The Lets Read Podcast - 200: WHAT SHE SAYS IN HER SLEEP | 32 True Scary Stories | EP 188

Episode Date: August 15, 2023

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about 7-ELEVEN, Office Work, & Sleep Talking... 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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If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. Ben MGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. I guess the only reason I'm even telling this story is to somehow try to move past the things that happened that day and the trauma and scars that had left me. My therapist says to move on, I have to talk about it and I don't want to talk to anyone I actually know so here I am, telling strangers on the internet about the worst day of my life. I live in what some people would call a third world country. I'm from the United States originally but moved to

this place when I was relocated for work. I honestly figured it wouldn't be that bad considering I was a man and men usually are treated better in that country. I don't want to name exactly where this was because I really don't want things to turn political or for people to make assumptions about what happened just based on the place. Part of me is also worried that if I tell you where this happened you'd be able to find an article about it online and possibly find out who I am. But maybe that's the paranoia my therapist was telling me about manifesting itself. Anyways, a little bit about me. I'm currently 32 years old, but when this happened I was in my late 20s. At the time I was somewhat overweight and didn't get out much so

when my job needed someone to relocate to another country, I volunteered, figuring it would be the push that I needed to try new things and go new places. I had to take five flights to get there and by the time the last flight landed, I was completely exhausted and not at all excited about starting work in a whole new place. I had a few days to settle into my new apartment before my first day at the office about 30 minutes away. What I do isn't super interesting. Lots of paperwork and phone calls. Part of me didn't even understand why they actually needed me there since everything I was doing was something I could have done back home. But I was already there and I had a contract for one year so I had to stick it out whether I liked it or not. I got to my apartment and was immediately disappointed. It looked literally nothing like the pictures that had

been posted online. Actually it was a whole different layout. When I tried to complain to the building manager he just stared at me until I realized that he had no idea what I was saying. I made my way back up to my cockroach infested apartment and had no hope for the next year. I immediately regretted my decision to go there, but unfortunately there was no going back. My first day went okay, no one really cared that I was there and for the most part, everyone just left me alone. My boss barely spoke any English so we said as much as we could to each other in terms of introductions before I went and sat at my dusty old desk that I'd be sitting at for the next whole year of my life. The first week went okay. I noticed a few of my co-workers staring at me and whispering things

to each other while they did. I honestly didn't care at all, though, considering I had no idea what they were saying anyways. I liked keeping to myself. It made the time pass by faster and when I zoned everything else out, I actually bought myself a pair of noise-canceling headphones to make it even quieter. The next month we got a notice not to come into work for a few days since they were remodeling and I happily stayed home and thank god for the time off. It was much needed. By the time I went back into work, they had added all new cubicles.

It was so much nicer and honestly made me want to stay at work even longer to escape the bugs in my apartment building. I found myself working 12 hour days, which at first I thought would have been an issue for the company considering four of those hours were overtime, but it wasn't. I was actually getting so much work done I got an email from corporate congratulating me on how fast I was helping the branch catch up with their late work. By month three I had this whole routine down. I woke up at 6am every morning and made myself breakfast and checked the news. Then at 7.30 I began my walk to work and by 8 I was there, about 30 minutes early every day. Actually, usually I was the first person to get there. Then I would put on my noise cancelling

headphones and get to work and some days I never even took them off. This was one of those days. I got to work at 8am as usual and everything seemed very normal. I sat at my desk and plopped on my trusty noise cancelling headphones and got to work. I love the cubicles because it secluded me so much than when we just had regular desks. Even in the little doorway in the cubicle I added a curtain to block myself off even more. It was like my own little room, where no one ever disturbed me. It was great. I got to work, and for the next few hours, everything went smoothly. I kept my head down in my work as usual, and like every other day,

I had no issues. At around 1pm, I felt the vibration underneath my feet of a lot of footsteps walking quickly out of the office. It even felt like some people might be running. But it was lunchtime and I naively chalked it up to people eagerly heading to lunch. I never even lifted my head to see what was going on. By 1.15 the power went off. The whole floor went dark with only bits of sunlight peering in between the blinds on the windows illuminating the ceiling. I slowly removed my headphones and stood up. And that's when I realized that I was the only person in the office.

I walked to our manager's doorway, but he was also nowhere to be found. 1.20pm. That's when I saw the smoke. It went from completely clear air in the room to smoke so thick I could barely see five feet in front of me in the span of only ten minutes. It was seeping up from the ground underneath me. I started to cough so hard it felt like my lungs were going to burst out of my chest. I started to make my way to the stairwell but with every step it felt like my body was getting heavier and heavier. At that point I ripped off my shirt and balled it up, shoving it against my mouth and nose to try to filter the air. I knew my lungs had already been coated with ash and soot but

I had to do something. The ground underneath me was hot, burning hot. It felt like my shoes were melting and the bottoms of my feet were being branded with white hot metal. It was excruciating. I still had about 50 feet between me and the stairwell door but to me, in that situation, it felt more like 500 feet. At that point the walls around me started to catch fire. The flames were so hot that even when I was standing a whole 20 feet away from it, it felt like the heat was melting away at my skin. I was terrified. It was like I was a kid again and all I wanted was my dad to come in and save me from this horrible situation and pain I was experiencing.

I started to pray. I was praying every second I was in that building. Every second I felt my skin burning off. Please God, please let me survive this. Please give me the strength to escape this building. Please, I'm not ready to die. Every step I took felt like walking on lava. I was determined to live through this.

The building around me had started to fall apart as I was surrounded by flames. 1.35pm. I actually made it to the stairwell door. I placed my hand on the door handle and the searing pain of the metal touching my skin had me pulling my hand back toward my body so fast I actually hit myself in the chest. I had to think quickly. I lowered my shirt from my mouth and wrapped it around my head. I knew the handle would still be hot, but any barrier was better than none. I braced myself for the pain I was about to experience and again,

set my hand on the handle and pulled quickly. It hurt, but at this point I think my body began going into shock. My legs began to burn and when I looked down I saw my pants had burned away from my body and my legs were now exposed to the flames and heat that had started to engulf me. I knew I had to make a decision. I had to go as fast as I could down those stairs, no matter how painful it would be or I would die. I put my shirt back to my face, took as deep a breath as I could, and began jumping down the stairs.

I skipped as many as I could in hopes that it would get me down faster. I screamed in pain with each step but eventually found myself on the bottom floor in front of the door that would lead to salvation. The stairwell had begun to fall apart above me, pieces of metal and wood raining down as I pushed against the door. Once outside, I was greeted by firemen yelling in my face in a language I didn't understand. The shock must have worn off because everything went black. The next thing I remember I was in the hospital. The doctor told me over 70% of my body had been seriously burned and damaged by the fire, but that I would survive. The pain, even in the hospital, was excruciating. I called my mom

and dad who were already arranging for me to be transported home for better medical care. I was in the hospital in that foreign country for two months before I was stable enough to be moved. The worst part was the debridement, which is where they remove dead tissue from your wounds. They literally are taking off pieces of your skin to ensure you don't get an infection. I knew it was part of the treatment process but it felt like literal torture. For the longest time I blamed my co-workers. I felt like they left me there to die. In reality, my boss, in very broken English, told me they didn't even know I was there. I made no sound throughout the whole day and because I always arrived at work 30 minutes early, no one had seen me come in. My resentment toward them eventually went away and I now realized it

wasn't their fault. As it turned out, a car had caught on fire parked in the alleyway next to the building. Because the building was old, it was made of cheap materials that caught on fire easily and there was no stopping it apparently. They thought everyone had gotten out and I guess no one had thought to get a head count. When I ended up coming out of the building everyone was shocked that I had been in there all that time. Recovery has been one of the hardest things I've ever gone through, but I am so grateful I escaped with my life. One thing I learned from all of this is I guess it doesn't really pay to be a big city. It's not where I pictured living, but finding a job in a small town like the one I grew up in just wasn't working out. I'd gone to

community college a few towns over since it was the only higher education school within a 50 miles radius so there were not many options. No options actually. I didn't consider moving for school since I had no money and my parents only offered to pay for my schooling if I stayed at home while I was attending. They were the controlling type. They even still tried to give me a curfew when I was like 20 years old. And I put a stop to that mentality pretty quick. Maybe it was the fact that I'm their only child, but I had to let them know that as an adult, they couldn't tell me what to do anymore. It was hard for them to accept at first, but they learned to respect my boundaries and I learned that compromise in a situation was better sometimes than arguing. I graduated with

an associate degree in journalism and I was so excited. I knew I didn't want to do anything in the political field. Those journalists are hated so much and I wanted to write about something a little more lighthearted and fun. I wanted to work for a magazine. Maybe fashion or something like home decor. And it seemed more fun than business or finance or politics where everything is so serious all the time. The only problem was there were no writing jobs in my area. My only options job-wise were the local grocery store

that people started working at when they were teenagers and never left, or the gas station where all the junkies hang out. Neither of those sounded good to me, and I didn't want to be one of those people that commute three hours to work a day since the city was the only place that could find work. So I decided I'd move. At first I didn't know where. I considered Los Angeles, but all writing jobs down there were all about celebrities. You know, OMG, he went where with her?

It's such meaningless BS in my opinion. Then I thought about Seattle. But then I remembered the awful weather they have up there. It rains all the time. No thanks. And that's when I settled on New York City. I found a couple of places that were hiring for writing positions I was absolutely interested in, and applied to all of them, of course.

I was hoping that one, just one, would take me. At that moment, I wanted it more than anything in the world. I'd already found a room to rent in an apartment with three other girls for a reasonable, by NYC standards, price. Everything in me was telling me moving to New York City was going to be a good thing. But man, was I wrong. I don't know if bigger cities just have more creeps or if they're just all really bold, but yuck. I hated all the unnecessary attention I was constantly getting from men literally everywhere I went. Just walking on the street or up the stairs to my apartment. It was so uncomfortable and had started to really get to me. My roommates all told me it was normal and if I wanted to live in this city I'd have to learn to get used to it.

That just made me even more angry about all of it. That it was something so normal to be experienced there that it was something to just be brushed off, forgotten about the second it happened. I hated that, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was too scared to say anything back to these people and I guess eventually I did get used to it and learned to ignore it. I forgot to mention I got a job working for a pretty well-known magazine. I wasn't exactly writing any articles, but I was still excited to be there. I had gotten a paid internship. I didn't make much, but the experience and opportunity to learn, I thought, was worth it. Unfortunately, the catcalling and unwanted attention from men didn't stop when I entered the workplace. It was actually somewhat worse.

The men in the top positions in the building felt emboldened by their status and obviously knew no one would do anything to them when they did something anyone else would consider wrong. And not just wrong in the business sense of the word, wrong in the moral sense as well. I found myself in an awful position, and in a place where anyone I told just told me to keep my mouth shut about it all and that the stuff I was saying wasn't something anyone talked about there. This one day, after I'd been working with the company for about six months, I was called into one of the higher-ups' offices. I knocked before entering and was told to come in. I noticed right away that he was an older man, probably in his sixties. He sat at a large desk in front of a huge window with the most beautiful view overlooking the city. He must have seen me staring out the window because he offered to let

me stand by him to get a better look. I thought it was a nice gesture and happily agreed. I made my way next to him and stood, admiring the city I now called home. He was sitting directly next to me and had turned his chair to join me in looking out the window. That's when I felt it. His hand was traveling up my thigh and made its way to the rest of my butt. I don't even know the words to express my feelings at that very moment. It's like it was a mixture of a bunch of emotions. I was feeling angry at the fact that he felt that he could touch me, scared that I was alone in a room with this man, ashamed that it had been about 30 seconds and I still hadn't swatted his hand away, and scared at what he would do when I did.

I couldn't let it go on any longer. I rushed away from him and asked him what he was doing. He actually pretended not to know what I was referring to, like I had made the whole thing up. After arguing with him about it for a couple of minutes, I decided going to HR was my best option. I quickly made my way to the elevator and pressed the floor I was going to. The second those doors closed, I burst out crying. I didn't even know how I was holding back tears and when they started they just wouldn't stop. The elevator dinged and signaled that it was my stop. I got out and made my way into the office where an older woman was sitting behind the desk. I told her there was something I wanted to report and she very bluntly told me that if it had anything to do with the guy who had just touched me, that there was no point

and that I should just get back to work. I was confused how she knew that's what I was there for, but eventually I understood. I wasn't the only woman he'd done this to and wasn't the first to come to HR to try to report him. I felt defeated. I was always told that whenever something like this happens to tell someone about it, to get help if I needed it. And there I was, trying to do exactly that and the person who was supposed to help me was adamant that there was nothing that could be done. The next day I was called into his office again. I was only an intern and whenever the other male interns were called into his office,

he only needed coffee or for them to run some paperwork to somewhere else in the office. So when he asked for me, I asked one of the guys to go for me. I was scared of that man. I was scared of what he might do to me if I stepped foot in his office again and I definitely wasn't going to risk it. Later that day I got an email from him. It said something like, the next time I ask for you, it better be you who comes. Don't forget, I can end your career in the city before you can even blink. It was intimidating. Of course it was intimidating. There I was, a 21 year old girl

faced with a man telling me he was going to ruin my career if I didn't do what he asked. The next day, he obviously asked for me again. I entered his office and stayed right by his door so I couldn't give him a way to get close to me and I had a quick exit if needed. He began telling me about articles the magazine had published the day before. He sounded funny though. The way he talked wasn't his usual manner of speaking. He began to stutter and his body was shaking.

I only realized what he had been doing when he let out a loud moan and his head rolled back. Yep, he was doing exactly what you think he was doing. I don't even want to say it. I yelled at him that he was disgusting and ran out of his office as fast as I could. I honestly didn't care about that internship at that point. I didn't care about anything that man had to say about me around the city. I could find another job somewhere else. If I had to move, I didn't care, but I couldn't let him get away with what he was doing. I went to the police and they told me that without proof there really was nothing they could do. I filed a report anyways. I went back to the

apartment and told my roommates what happened. Of course, they were as creeped out and disgusted as me but shockingly told me to keep the internship. They said the job was so good that having to put up with one pervy man was worth it. I tried complaining to HR again, this time insisting I at least be moved to a different floor. I was willing to try to find a new job, but I kind of needed this one to pay rent while I looked for a different one. I was moved a few floors down and for the next couple of weeks after that I had no issues. And that's when the emails started coming in. They were always from a new anonymous email address and every single one contained a nude photo, always from the same person. Unfortunately, I could tell. I informed

the police who again told me there wasn't much they could do. I started hating everything about the city. I hated how everyone told me this was normal and that I should put up with it. I just wanted someone to listen to me and agree that what I was going through, what I was being put through actually, was not okay. I knew exactly who was sending me those photos and I just couldn't take it anymore. I sent an email to everyone in the office detailing what had happened to me. I explained everything I went through and how many times I'd tried to report it to HR and how they did nothing to help me. Then I quit.

For the next few days, I got emails from some of the other women in the office telling me that they had experienced the same or similar things with the man who had touched me. I was so mad that no one would do anything about it but at least everyone knew now. I never went back so I never saw the fallout from my email myself. I hope he got what he deserved, although I know he probably didn't. I found a better job at a different company that I absolutely adore working at. I'm treated great and can gladly say I've not experienced anything like this since. To any woman out there who is going through or has gone through something similar and they feel like there is no one out there who understands or who listens, just know that you're not alone. We are here, ready and willing to hear you. Okay. Okay, I guess I'll just try to get straight to the point when telling you about the most

terrifying day of my life. I work in a bookstore. Not a cozy, cutesy, small-town vibes bookstore though. God, I wish, but no. I work in one of those obnoxiously huge, forces small bookstores to close bookstores. Knowing small businesses in the town I grew up in are forced to close their doors for good because the company I work for is setting up shop in town isn't the best feeling in the world, not even close. It does make me sad at times, especially when my mom comes complaining to me that all her friends complain to her about what I'm doing to the community. She's always asking me to quit or at the very least give back to the community that she says I'm stealing from. The funny thing is I don't even run the store.

I don't run the company. I just work in the offices connected to the bookstore and manage mid-level marketing for the company locally and in the surrounding areas. I also should say that I still work for this company, even after what happened. It really wasn't their fault, after all. Alright, so it was a random Thursday afternoon in October. My favorite month to work, by the way. There was an incredible view of Main Street from my desk on the third floor. The city went all out with decorations for Halloween.

On every street sign and lamppost there were fake spiderwebs and fall-colored leaves clinging on and swinging in the wind. The trees were all changing color and I couldn't help but stare at the world outside my office. The world I wish I spent more time in instead of at this stupid desk. This day however, when I found myself looking out that window, I saw something that I wish I hadn't. The bank across the street was just a local one. Not one of those big branch banks scattered around every city in the country. It was always very quiet and my mom actually worked there. She liked to wave at me through the front window every day at noon exactly when she was having her lunch. I always found it very sweet.

Only this day, at noon, when I'd gone to the window to give mom a little wave and a smile, she wasn't there. Actually, no one was. Usually there'd be people walking in and out of the bank at this time of day, but there was no one there. And that's when I saw him. A man in a mask holding a gun at his side, peering out the window as if though he was looking for someone. And that's when panic mode set in. I rushed to the phone on my desk and dialed 911 while trying to keep my eyes on the man inside that building with my mom and who knows how many other people. My heart was racing so fast that I felt I could barely speak. When the dispatcher

answered, it felt like it took everything in me to force out the words to describe what was happening right in front of me. She asked me a bunch of questions that I didn't really have the answer to considering the only thing I could see was just barely inside the front doors. But I made sure to inform them the man inside was armed and that I had no idea if he had any partners. I guess that's all they needed from me since they insisted I didn't need to stay on the phone with them. In my haste to explain the situation, I didn't realize the masked man wasn't looking out the window down the street anymore. He was staring directly at me. I slammed the phone onto the receiver and closed the blinds as fast as I could. I couldn't help myself though. I had to take a peek and see if he was still

looking toward my window. I slid my fingers through the cracks in the blinds and bent them slightly, creating just a small enough gap to peer through. And to my relief and somewhat surprise, he wasn't looking toward me anymore. Actually, I couldn't see him at all. He wasn't standing at the front of the bank anymore. And I felt this sense of relief fill me just for a second. And then fear came creeping in again when I realized not being able to see him meant that I didn't know what he was doing in there. And not knowing was the worst. He could be in there hurting someone and there would be nothing that I could do. In that moment of panic, not knowing if my mother was okay, my phone started ringing. And it was her. I picked up the phone and answered,

immediately asking if she was okay. She was crying and scared, but she said that she was okay and so was everyone else. And that's when she told me something that gave me chills. She said something had spooked him and he'd walked right out the doors, across the street and into my building. She told me that I needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Without even thinking, I walked calmly toward my office door and down the row of desks. I whispered to everyone along the way that they needed to exit the building. Just as I reached the stairwell, I heard gunshots behind me. About eye level on the wall next to the door was the fire alarm button.

I slammed my hand into it and couldn't help but cringe when the loud alarm began to blare overhead. That's when I felt a hand grasp harshly onto my forearm and pull me back. Well, you shouldn't have done that. His voice sounded raspy. I turned quickly to face him, knowing I had a better chance at fighting him off if we were face to face, and I could somehow predict what he was actually going to do next. Everyone down on the ground, now! I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will if I have to. Got it? He looked around after he said that, like someone would actually have the guts to answer the madman with a gun. He was still holding on to me at that point and it was starting to hurt.

I just stared at the guy. I had no idea what he had planned or why he'd even come in here in the first place. But I, nor anyone in the building, had an interest in questioning him. He was scary and armed. No thanks. Alright. Since you're the one who set off the fire alarm, you're going to be the one to turn it off. He looked more annoyed than anything when he said

that. My voice was shaky when I finally worked up the courage to answer him. I don't know how to turn it off. I think that's some one thing the fire department does. He just rolled his eyes and shoved me into a chair at one of my co-workers' desks. Then you're going to call the fire department and tell them everything is alright here, and it was just a stupid misunderstanding. And you're going to do it without complaining, otherwise I'm going to shoot one of these very nice people here. Okay?

Okay? He sat down next to me and reluctantly let me use the computer to look up the phone number to the local fire department. When I finally reached them on the phone and repeated what the guy wanted me to say, they told me that they were aware of the situation and that help was on the way. Thankfully, it wasn't on speakers, so when he asked me what they said, I was able to lie and tell them they said they weren't coming and that they'd turn off the alarm. A few minutes later, the alarm turned off and the masked man continued his tirade, explaining how life wasn't fair and that God hated him,

how his dad left when he was a kid, and that to him, making bad decisions while he was growing up was just what led him here. This man was telling us his whole very dark, sad life story almost like he was trying to justify what he was doing. I was towards the back of the office so I couldn't tell when the police had gotten there. I just knew that they were there from the look on his face and the sweat pooling in his shirt. And that's when the phone calls started coming in. Hostage negotiator, I'm assuming. Every time they'd call, the guy would just get angrier and angrier and demand more outrageous things than the previous time they'd talked on the phone.

At first, he wanted a car to drive away in and for no one to follow. Classic. This escalated to him practically begging whoever this person was on the other end of the phone for a helicopter to land on the roof of the building for him to fly away in. A fake passport and 10 million in cash. I was scared, but something was also telling me that he wasn't going to hurt anyone. If he was, he probably would have already done it. Eventually he started letting a few of us go at a time. I was among the last three still trapped inside with him. It had been hours and I was exhausted, mentally and physically just done. The phone calls became less frequent for some reason, he became more antsy. Just so genuinely desperate for a way to get out of there that didn't include

jail time. And to be totally honest, some weird part of me started to feel bad for the guy. He's had this really rough, unfortunate life and I couldn't help but wonder how he would have ended up if he'd experienced a better upbringing than the one he was given. After some time, he finally let me and the two other hostages out of the building. My mother was standing there waiting for me and I ran into her arms so fast. Only minutes after exiting the front doors, a loud gunshot was heard coming from the building. The police started yelling shots fired, shots fired, move in, while all rushing into the building. Turns out, he decided ending his life was a better option

than going to prison for his crimes. He chose my office to do it, which only made me feel worse. I watched as they brought him out in a body bag and loaded him into the city coroner's van. I found myself standing there, watching as the van drove away and the police cleared the scene. He had no funeral, and essentially no one cared about his passing considering that there was no obituary written for him. Just his death was announced in the local paper tied into the article about what happened that day. I requested to switch offices, of course, and to this day, the view outside the window just doesn't look the same. Some part of the view now felt tainted, like the happiness I once saw in the world was clouded by the harsh reality that I hadn't realized before.

That one person isn't always only to blame for the sad or dark outcome of their life. What I can say is, I hope, in death, he finally found the peace he was so desperately searching for in life. I'm 32 and at the time of this story I worked in a fairly busy office setting. I won't bore you with my job, but I can tell you it's incredibly average and not at all what I envisioned for myself when I used to think about what I'd be doing in my adult life. Everyone always told me college was the answer to getting a good paying job doing something I loved. But after I graduated, I was $100,000 in debt and couldn't find a job in the field I'd gone to school for. So I guess I just had to settle. And let me tell you, I was not happy about it. I felt lied to. Like everyone who told me college would lead to this amazing life, I just played this huge prank on me that cost me years

of my life and thousands of dollars. I was angry. My work consists of a lot of paperwork and phone calls and it makes my life super boring. And not just boring, but also sad. I'm sad at how my life has led me here. I get some people who strive for these kinds of jobs and are happy in them, but I'm just not. And I'm sure that comes across in my attitude throughout the day. I actually know it comes out in my attitude. Most of my co-workers don't like me. My boss actually told me that he would have fired me just because of my attitude, and what he called a lack of consideration from my colleagues if I wasn't so good at my job.

But I hated my job so much that if he did fire me, I really wouldn't care. I'd just find another job somewhere else, probably still doing something I hated. I will say I do realize now that it wasn't right for me to take out my own internal anger on my co-workers. I should have realized that at the time, but I kind of like that they all avoided me. I was a total introvert and socializing isn't my strong suit anyways, so if my attitude kept them away, then okay. My only issue was I wasn't just inconsiderate, but I was also just plain rude. At the time, I knew everyone called me the office bully, but a part of me found it amusing.

I just thought that it meant everyone hated me. Thinking back on it now, it was just because I was legitimately mean. I had issues building up inside of me and I guess subconsciously I wanted to bring everyone else down with me, as a bully does. I hate even admitting this right now, but I have to be real and I'm sure what I say next is the reason for what happened to me. I made fun of people at work, not just under my breath or behind their backs, but to their faces. I laughed and joked about how people looked and what they ate or the clothes they wore. If someone was having a hard time at work, I thought it was funny to call them

stupid, stuff like that. I know it was wrong but at the time I think I just wanted people to feel the torment I felt in my own mind and body. People used to tell me I was hurting their feelings and I should realize the consequences of my actions, but I usually just laughed off their concerns. I spent a lot of time in HR, but I guess I must have been an asset to the company because I was always just warned of a never actually laid off. This specific day I was in the break room eating lunch when one of my co-workers walked in. The second she saw me, she rolled her eyes and went into the fridge. I'm changing her name for the sake of the story, so we'll call her Angela.

Angela was a heavy set woman and I guess that day, that's what I decided to make fun of. She had brought leftover pizza for lunch and was heating it up when I made an awful comment that was something like, do you really need to be eating that? I laughed about it at the moment but now I just cringe and feel disgusted thinking about it. The look on her face is something I'll always remember. Everyone in the room went silent and what I will never forget is the tears beginning to stream down her face as she ran out of the room. Everyone else in the room looked at me with such anger and disappointment that I didn't know what to do other than get up and walk out and back to my desk.

That moment was almost like an epiphany to me. I actually started to see the way I was treating people was wrong and man I felt terrible. I wanted to go over to Angela and apologize but I knew then wasn't the right time. She was surrounded by a group of women trying to console her and all I wanted was to shrivel up into nothingness for what I had done to a woman who had never been rude to me or anyone in this office a day in her life. The next day I came into the office and put my lunch in the fridge like I usually do. As the morning went on no one would talk me, or even look at me for that matter. It was like I was being shunned. But I knew I deserved it. The guilt I felt was intense,

and I wanted nothing more than to take back all the awful things I'd said the years before to pretty much everyone I worked with. But there was no fixing these relationships. These people knew me as the office bully, and I didn't blame them. That's exactly what I was. Around 11am that morning, I decided I need to apologize to Angela. I slowly made my way over to her desk and began to apologize, but she wouldn't even look at me or even acknowledge my presence, which only made me feel even worse. I sulked all the way over to the break room and retrieved my lunch. I decided to just eat at my desk to avoid everyone else who didn't even bother to hide their mean stares. I opened my Tupperware and began eating my pasta, but something seemed off.

It was a little crunchy and I knew I hadn't put anything crunchy in my pasta. And that's when I looked down, horrified at what was in my container and what I'd just eaten. Peanuts. Now this might not scare everyone, but there's a reason it scared me, terrified me really. I am deathly allergic to peanuts. If I don't use my EpiPen within minutes my airway can close and I can die. It is literally life or death. I immediately felt my tongue beginning to tingle and my heart began to race. I rushed to reach into my desk drawer but my EpiPen wasn't there.

And this is when I went into full panic mode. I only had a couple of minutes before I would no longer be able to breathe. I knew the office kept an emergency first aid kit on hand and the office was required to keep an epi on hand at all times. I ran into my boss's office and in the most hoarse voice imaginable I told him what was happening. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. At this point my tongue had begun to swell and breathing began to be a struggle. Everyone in the office was staring in horror. Everyone but Angela. Even in that moment where I was fearing for my life, I noticed that she was the only person

still tending to her work. My boss found the EpiPen shortly after I burst into his office and I administered to myself, straight into my thigh. An ambulance was called and I was taken to the hospital for further evaluation. I was released the same night after receiving IV fluids and being monitored for a few hours. After telling my boss what happened, we both suspected someone had intentionally put peanuts in my lunch in order for me to have an allergic reaction. Only we couldn't exactly pinpoint who

since everyone at the office hated me so much and no one did fess up to the police. Eventually, because there was no progress, the case was closed. No one ever admitted to it but I gotta say my gut tells me to this day it was Angela. She never cared about what happened to me and was my only co-worker who never bothered to ask me what happened. I did get laid off a couple of weeks after that incident with them using multiple examples of my poor behavior in the past as the reason. I ended up getting another desk job doing the same kind of work, but now I try my absolute best to treat people with kindness and sincerity. Not because of what happened to me, but because I realized it took me way too long to understand that everyone deserves kindness and positivity

in their life. There is enough negativity in the world and I refuse to add to it. But if any of you are out there, be careful who you treat poorly, especially if they have access to what goes into your body. You never know what they would or could do to harm you. This story took place maybe ten years back, so if things sound a little off at times, it's because my memory of the incident had gotten fuzzy over the years, but I'll try my best to give as much detail as possible. At the time I was 22 and had just started working reception at a marketing office. I was trying to pay my way through college and this seemed like as good a job as any. I remember my first day very well because everyone was so inviting and sweet. Almost everyone came up to my desk to say hi and introduce themselves. It was great. I thought I was going to fit in there perfectly since

everyone else seemed so normal and nice. As the months went on, I made a few friends. They were all older than me, but it didn't seem to matter in an office setting. Although it was a little hard to relate sometimes when the older women would talk about their kids and grandkids when I was only still in college. Even though I had only a few close friends at the office, I was at least acquaintances with almost everyone else. Almost. There was a man who worked with us named Enzo. And he was interesting to say the least. Everything with him was routine based.

He walked into work every morning at 8.10 on the dock. He walked the same path to his desk and organized his pens the same way every single day. When he'd pick up the phone, he always tapped it five times. Now let me make it clear, these are just examples as I don't remember the exact number he did things in, but it was stuff like this. Then there was a bunch of little things too. What I do remember noticing is that there were only a few people in the office he would talk to. I ended up asking my friend Alex about it and I can't say I was surprised when

he told me Enzo had a severe form of OCD. He told our boss about it when he'd started working and our boss told the other employees at the time just to be sure that they would be patient with Enzo instead of getting upset at his quirks. Over the years since Enzo had started working there, many of the company's original employees quit, retired, or were promoted to another position outside of our building. So the only people Enzo talked to were the three people who he had originally began working with since his first day. And since he had a strict routine, it didn't involve him introducing himself to every new employee that walked in. I guess Enzo had told our boss about this who understood and said as long as he did his job, he wouldn't have to go out of his way to introduce himself to new

people. I tried to introduce myself to him a few times before learning about him and I just figured that he was rude and ignoring me. And this made me rethink everything and I felt bad for judging him right off the bat like that. Everyone knew about Enzo and what he was dealing with mentally and we all worked hard to make work a safe environment for him. We didn't get in the way of his routine and whenever any of us needed something from him, we made sure to ask one of the people he talked to to relay the information to him.

It always worked out and it was pretty smooth for a while. Except one day when our boss had a client come into the office and instead of meeting him for lunch like he usually did, this specific client was a bit of a hassle. I'd met him once before and he was honestly just super annoying and very loud and intrusive. He also didn't respect personal space at all, which frustrated me more than anything. We'll call him Mark. Well, Mark came in one day and it was hard not to notice him. He flung open the doors and started yelling across the room for our boss to come out and greet him. I politely tried asking him to sign into the office, but he just laughed at me and continued his rampage throughout the office.

He went over to almost everyone asking if they were going to take good care of him and I could tell that he was making everyone else just as uncomfortable as he was making me. It was only when we all saw him making his way over to Enzo when I started to worry. I watched as Mark sat on the edge of his desk and started patting Enzo's head, asking him if he was having a good day, buddy. He was messing his hair up in the process and I could see Enzo's face turning red as he did this. Then Mark started going through the papers on Enzo's desk. This is when multiple of my co-workers got up and asked Mark to stop messing with Enzo, to which he replied,

If he had a problem, he could tell me himself. At that point, he'd begun playing with Enzo's pens and basically laughing in his face. I guess Enzo had enough because he stood up and screamed in Mark's face while pushing him off his desk. And that's when things got a little violent. Mark was on the ground and we all watched in horror as Enzo began kicking him as hard as he could, just brutally landing blows on Mark's side and head. He got maybe about 10 good hard kicks in before someone ended up pulling him away. He didn't like that either since he hated being touched which led to him beginning to punch the guy holding him.

No one could get him to calm down and I guess at some point during the scuffle someone had called the police. They ended up coming through the doors and all I could do was point towards Enzo and Mark's defeated body laying on the ground as he took short breaths. They arrested him for assault and paramedics came and sorted out Mark He went to the hospital and we were informed that he had a severe concussion And a couple of his ribs actually had broken and even punctured his lung He ended up suing Enzo but the trial never really went anywhere Once footage of the incident and context of Enzo's mental illness was brought to light Unfortunately Enzo was fired, and although I have this feeling that he would have quit anyways, we all felt really bad for him,

considering if Mark had just left him alone, he could have kept the job that he had gotten used to for so many years. The three employees he talked to did end up keeping in touch with him, and I was happy to hear that he had gotten another job that didn't mind his routine-based lifestyle. I quit that job about four years back but to this day I still think about Enzo and wonder what he's up to. I just hope Mark learned his lesson and that everyone reading this can take away the fact that you really shouldn't intentionally mess with anyone. You never know what they're going through, and if what you're doing could to be average, if you way. I always had planned my life to be average if you will. I'm just not the kind of person that had super extravagant dreams that

I wanted to accomplish. I've always been the kind of person who was completely okay with having an office job and working an eight to five work day. I sometimes wondered why I never had the ambition to be great like most people did growing up but I figured it must have been because my parents also just live ordinary lives. This specific situation happened when I was 40 and working in an accounting office as a secretary slash receptionist. It was boring work, but I honestly didn't really mind. It was only 9 hours out of my day and the pay was decent. There was, however, one con to the job, and that con was a man named Gary. Gary joined the company a few years back. I had been working there about five years by that time and I'd seen many people come and go. I never really expected

someone to stay for very long given the fact that our building wasn't very nice and I knew for a fact that the assistant position he filled for one of the accountants did not pay well at all. I kind of felt bad for him at first to be honest. He was optimistic about the job and super excited but by the time a year came around he was obviously sad and bored. I guess feeling bad for him is what made me try to befriend him in the first place and that's something I'll regret forever. Gary was a nice, seemingly regular guy. We went out for lunch a couple of times a week as friends and sometimes went for a drink after work. Now let me tell you, Gary was boring.

Possibly the most dry, unfunny person I'd ever met. And all he had to talk about was himself and his cats. There's only so many times you hear a person talk about their cat's favorite toys and treats before you want to bury your head in the sand. It was painful, but I continued my friendship with him because I knew I was the only friend he had and I would have hated to hurt his feelings at the time. After around six months of us being friends and spending short periods of time together outside of work, I noticed Gary becoming very clingy. He would text me during my days off to ask me where I was and if I'd meet him for lunch or drinks and when I politely said no, he would get angry and tell me it was our tradition and I couldn't mess up our tradition, stuff like that. The other thing he hated was when I mentioned my husband.

He really hated that. If we were having a conversation, I brought it up. Gary would scoff and ask to change the subject. Or if he asked me to get lunch and I told him I had plans with my husband, he'd actually tell me to cancel with him so he and I could go instead. That's something I found very strange. Eventually he became this person who tried his best to control me. But Gary was just a guy that I worked with.

He couldn't tell me what to do, so I always ignored him. One day, however, he overheard me talking to another one of my co-workers about a barbecue I was having at my house that coming weekend that my husband and I were hosting. I had actually asked my other co-worker not to mention it to me at work because I didn't want Gary to know about it, but of course he did. She basically yelled across the whole office how excited she was for the BBQ and that she was so happy to be invited. As I expected, Gary came rushing up to my desk with an angry look on his face as he began littering me with questions on why he wasn't invited and if I hated him now. He was talking so fast I wouldn't have been able to get a word in if I wanted to. Finally, I ended up just raising my voice and telling him to shut up. He didn't like that, but I followed the shut up with an invite to the barbecue. I kind of had to invite him at that point.

I made up some dumb excuse as to why I hadn't invited him yet and went with something like, oh, I wanted to invite you in person. He bought it, which was all that mattered, and in my head the barbecue was already ruined just by the fact that I knew he'd be there. The weekend rolled around and my husband and I were setting up for the barbecue. It was pretty hot outside, but we had a swimming pool we were set to utilize that day. People started to arrive and we began cooking hamburgers and hot dogs. After an hour, Gary still hadn't showed up and I was really hoping that would have meant that

he wasn't going to. But there he was, stepping into our backyard from the side gate wearing a Hawaiian shirt and to everyone's shock and horror, a Speedo. I was visibly confused and upset and felt like walking over to him and telling him to leave. But my husband convinced me causing a scene would have been the bigger issue and I should just let it go. After a while our daughter came home and joined the party. She was 16 at the time and most of her time during the barbecue was spent sunbathing by the pool. I began to notice Gary staring at her which I found very creepy. I walked up to him and asked him how he was enjoying the barbecue but instead of answering he just pointed

to my daughter and the words that came out of his mouth disgusted me and changed the way I looked at him from that second on. Who is she? Oh my god, the things I'd do to that girl. The anger I felt in that moment was so intense, I could barely even find the words to tell him to get out of my house. Instead, I went up to my husband and told him what Gary had said. I watched my husband storm over to Gary, but I didn't hear what was said.

Instead, I just saw Gary storm out of our backyard and yell some expletives before closing the gate. I asked my husband what happened, but his only response was that he handled it. For the next few weeks work was normal besides the occasional glares I received from Gary. I didn't care though, I was just glad to have him out of my life. After work he would watch me walk to my car which I found a little creepy but I tried not to think much about it. Gary had become known for being a little creepy around the office so this was normal in everyone's minds. He tried texting me multiple times to apologize but I ignored him. I was done with our friendship,

if you could even call it that and just wanted him to leave me alone. About a month after the BBQ my daughter started complaining to me that whenever she was in her room she felt like someone was watching her. Every time I went in there she had her curtains fully closed because she said it was the only way she felt safe. I felt bad for her but we never caught anyone looking into her window so there wasn't much we could do to make her feel more comfortable other than tell her that we'd keep her safe always. One day though, everything changed. My husband always picked our daughter up from school after soccer practice, but this day he was running a little late. When he pulled up, he noticed a car pulled up beside her and she had opened the door and was just about to get in. My husband yelled out of the

window and asked her what she thought she was doing. Almost immediately the car sped away with our daughter standing on the curb of her school confused and visibly shaken. What she told my husband shook me to my core. She said that after she'd gotten done with soccer practice she went to the front of campus where she usually met my husband and had started to wait for him to get there. My husband didn't think to text her at the time that he was running late, but she waited nonetheless. She knew he'd be there. Instead, she said a man pulled up in front of her and told her he was her mom's work friend, Gary, and that I told him to go pick her up.

Of course, this wasn't true, but she'd seen him at the barbecue and assumed that he was telling the truth. That's when she opened the door and was about to get in until my husband showed up. After she told my husband what happened, he called the police, who managed to actually track down Gary. He was charged with attempted kidnapping, and when they searched his car, they found duct tape, rope, and zip ties, along with over a hundred pictures of her in her bedroom and at her school. The police said that he'd been stalking her for the past month and that this must have been planned. He was sentenced to two years in prison, as well as receiving a no-contact order. His two-year sentence went by fast and he's out now. We changed houses and had her switch schools just in case and so far we haven't seen him around town.

We don't know what he had planned with her that day, but we are beyond glad. We never had to find out. So So everything I'm about to tell you is going to sound pretty insane and I urge you to hear me out. Everything will start to make sense towards the end. I just have to tell it in a way where you can understand my fear in the same way I felt it. It's definitely the craziest event in my life that most people assume is fake, but I encourage you to have an open mind and try to understand not everything that seems fake actually is. I'll try to keep everything as detailed as possible so that you can accurately understand what I was going through and the insane things I was seeing that night.

Okay, so at the time I was around 35 years old and working as a janitor in a fairly large office building. Large enough where I had many other coworkers helping me clean up around the place during the day, but small enough where only one person worked throughout the night. Only at night we also worked as security as well as performing our janitorial duties. I have to say, I actually really liked my job and I loved taking the night shift. I was more of the keep to myself, so working alone didn't bother me. I also wasn't the kind of person to be scared of unoccupied buildings or dark places. I never had an issue in the office before, and whenever the opportunity to work nights

came up, I always was the first to volunteer. This night was a little different though. I wouldn't usually admit this but it's pretty relevant to the story so I kind of have to. So whenever I work nights, like I mentioned before, I was the only person in the building. I have keys to every office and access to every file cabinet, desk and so on. Well, I use that to my advantage. I'm a very nosy person and I have no issue going through everyone's belongings and occasionally taking the things I liked and never saying anything when it came up

to these specific things being missing. No one suspected me and I never really stopped doing it. If anything, it actually got worse. I started taking more and more stuff and maybe I'll even admit that it had begun to become a problem. I wiped the cameras every morning before I left so in case anyone ever thought to check them, they'd find nothing. It was like a routine at this point. I did notice people starting to lock their desks and cabinets more often but I still took from the ones who didn't. Now I didn't consider myself a thief. I wasn't taking things like expensive jewelry or anything of actual value. I took things like pens, ones I thought looked cool or like unopened snacks, stuff like that. Stuff I knew people wouldn't truly miss. I guess I should have realized it

was wrong because doing this is actually what led to the scariest night of my life. It was a Friday night and everyone had left for the weekend. I had volunteered for the night shift once again. I showed up at around 8pm at which point the daytime janitors handed over the keys to me. It was starting to get cloudy outside and that night we were expecting a pretty bad thunder and lightning storm. I actually loved storms though so I wasn't worried. The next few hours I spent cleaning up around the offices and in the bathrooms. My least favorite part of the job was definitely emptying the trash cans in the bathroom, just such disgusting stuff people put in there.

Anyways, then came my favorite part, snooping in people's desks. It became almost like a game to me, or a mystery. What will I find today? Sometimes, to make it more interesting, I would try to guess what was in each person's desk before I opened it. If I got it right or close enough, I would take what was in there. If I got it wrong, I wouldn't. Ah, who am I kidding?

I mostly just took the stuff no matter what, but I found a lot of snacks which I always appreciated. The vending machines didn't run at night for some reason and I was usually pretty hungry by the middle of my shift. The manager's offices usually had mini fridges that were stocked with some pretty tasty stuff so I usually went for that first. This night when I opened the mini fridge in one of the larger offices I found some gummy bears. I really didn't understand why they were in the fridge to begin with, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from taking and eating them. They tasted a little funny, but still sweet, so I ate them all. It kind of started to hurt my stomach, so I turned off the lights in the office and sat down in the chair in the corner of the

room. It was almost pitch black in the building with little bits of moonlight coming in through the large windows lining the walls. The storm had apparently not started yet. After about 30 minutes, my vision started to get a little fuzzy. And then I started seeing things. Things that weren't supposed to be there. I lifted my hands in front of my face, but they didn't look like my hands. They started to transform or meld into what looked like claws. Then the claws started to crack and break and from between the cracks emerged

almost like little spiders. And at this point I started to freak out. My spatial awareness seemed off too. I knew I was in a large room but it felt so small. I stood up and looked toward the corner of the room. It looked like a man was standing there in the dark. I could see the shape of his body and his eyes looked like they were glowing. I tried to scream at him to leave but nothing came out. I looked at my reflection in the window and my mouth. It was gone. You know that scene in the Matrix when Neo is talking to Agent Smith and

his mouth disappears? Yeah, exactly like that. I knew I needed to get out of there. I looked back toward the man in the corner, only now he was incredibly tall and looming over me. His hands were like shadows reaching toward me, trying to engulf me in the darkness. His eyes glowed red as he let out this monstrous laugh of ha, ha, ha. I felt the tears begin to fill my eyes and my heart begin to race. I had no idea what was going on. I felt like I had just entered hell and skipped the death part. I started to run, only I thought I was running. Except every time my feet met the ground it was as if I was moving in slow motion. The chairs in front of everyone's desk

started to turn into what I can only describe as demonic creatures. It was like they were all emerging from the darkness with the intent to harm me. They didn't speak, only laughed. My tears began to feel like acid running down my face. Instinctively I began swatting and clawing at my face trying to make the pain go away. I wanted whatever was going on to just be over. I eventually made my way to the bathroom, but when I walked in, the lights were red and the

walls were covered in what seemed like blood. The sound of heavy footsteps behind me sent chills down my spine and I had to hide. I had to escape whatever was following me. I stepped into the blood and it felt it squish under my feet. The squeaking from my tennis shoes meeting the blood-soaked floor filled the room. I opened the bathroom stall door and locked it behind me. I hopped onto the toilet, picking my feet off the floor to make it harder for that creature to find me. I heard the bathroom door open. It was like I could feel it in the room with me. My heart was beating so fast it felt like I was going to have a heart attack at any second. All the stall walls

and doors began to rattle as it started to laugh. Even louder than before, I shut my eyes, but somehow still could see what was happening around me. It was almost like I had no eyelids. Suddenly, I heard laughter directly above me. I looked up and was met with the most horrifying thing I'd ever seen. This shadow creature now had long horns. His face was completely black with no dimension whatsoever. When it opened its mouth, I saw its sharp teeth that seemed to go on forever. Its eyes were yellow now as it stared down at me, reaching toward me while it continued to laugh. I didn't know what else to do. I opened the stall door and stumbled my way out of the bathroom as fast as I could. I found an office that looked fairly normal and dialed 911. I told

the operator what was happening to me and she didn't believe me at first. She said prank calling the police was illegal. I told her I was telling the truth and to send officers to the building. Finally she agreed, probably because she legally had to send them and they were there in about 10 minutes I guess and those 10 minutes were some of the worst of my life and felt like forever. The creatures seemed to multiply and surround me as I clutched my head in my hands and covered my eyes to possibly shield myself from whatever they might do and not hear that awful laughter. The police arrived only to find me in the fetal position, not able to move or talk, with lacerations all over my face. An ambulance was called and they took me straight to the

hospital. I had to be sedated since I was experiencing such severe hallucinations that made it impossible for them to treat me. I woke up in a hospital bed in a psychiatric ward the next day, and I was informed that my blood tests revealed that I had massive amounts of LSD in my system. The police came and asked me where I'd gotten the drugs and of course I had no idea. I must have been poisoned. And that's when it hit me. The gummy bears. It had to be the gummy bears. I told them everything, even the fact that I'd been stealing from my co-workers. I mean, I had to make it clear that I wasn't some junkie or drug dealer or something. Unfortunately, I have eaten all the so-called evidence, so they had nothing to test. But I guess they figured they'd give me the benefit of the doubt. I looked in the mirror on the way out

of the hospital and I truly did look insane. I had scratch marks all the way down my face from where I thought my tears were acid. I had black eyes from where I kept shoving my face in my hands and missing hair that I guess I had pulled out during the whole ordeal. I was also fired that day since the police informed my employer about what I'd been doing. I didn't really care about losing my job. I don't think I could ever enter that office again. There's no way that I could see it the same way I once did. I still get a bad feeling even when I just drive by the building.

No one fessed up to having the drugs, of course, and from that day on I vowed to never, ever steal anything from anyone ever again. I still have nightmares of that night in The Shadow Man. I sometimes even still see his eyes in the darkness and hear his laugh when it's just a little too quiet. 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 30 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, like 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 7-11 just to taunt me sometimes, and he'd only leave once I'd threaten 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 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 To be continued... 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 and I've 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. To be continued... 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-Eleven 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 an 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, but 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 30-40 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. I already recoiled from the shock of having his hand slam 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 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. We're going back almost 10 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 7-11. 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 and 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 7-11 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 7-11 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. 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 can 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 they 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. 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 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 try to resist or tell the kid no, it had 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. 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, an 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. I I work night shifts at a 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. 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 7-11 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 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. Okay, so this is long, but there's a lot of info. So my mom is newly widowed since October and had been with my dad for over 48 years. She still looks great, is classy, and has always been faithful to my dad and because of this has always had a line of guys interested in

her including this one. I'll call him Todd. Todd has known her and my dad for years through a local watering hole they all went to, not together and were friendly from there. He finds out my dad passed recently. So a month ago Todd starts showing up to my mom's work. She works at a local store as a cake decorator. He initially comes in and talks to her which isn't out of the ordinary. She has many customers who come talk to her regularly but this time Todd says some things that let us know that he's been looking for info about her online. He first says, you're 65.

And she says, yeah, kind of confused why he's saying it. He then says, you were born on such and such date. And she says, yeah, still confused. Then he says her phone number. From then on, he began contacting her, and a lot. She didn't think much of it at first, even though those are major red flags in my opinion. Todd starts coming to her work more regularly, calling and saying, not asking, to come over too. She would say no, but he would still show up and be super pushy about things. When he would show up, she would let him in, but say fine, but you can only stay a half hour, etc.

He would come in, they would talk and sometimes have a drink and she would tell him it's time to leave. This continues for a few weeks and then I come to visit. My mom hadn't even told me about him before this. Then she comes home from work one day and is noticeably worked up. She says she has a friend coming over and it's a guy. I laugh and say mom it's fine. I know my dad would have been okay with it and wouldn't have wanted her to wait. He would want her to find someone and be happy.

She says they aren't dating or anything but warns me that the guy often acts like they're a couple even though they're not. So Dodd comes over and sure enough he does just that. I'm confused initially and by the way he is acting it seems like they've been dating for a few months and I'm wondering if my mom was just afraid to tell me. She is acting weird but I can't quite put my finger on it. She keeps saying in front of him that he acts like they're a couple even though they aren't. He just laughs it off and tries to grab her hand or put his hand on her leg. Then she goes into another room and he tells me how nervous he

was to meet me. He starts crying and I think for a moment that he's going to ask if it's okay to propose because he's so serious and going on and on about how much she means to him. He tells me that my mom was sobbing to him as he hugged her and that she just sank into him. It was incredibly creepy. Of course she was going to be sobbing because her husband of 48 years just passed away and my dad adored her. He also makes some alarming comments like saying my mom spends too much money. She doesn't and really hasn't had a whole lot of her life but she is better off financially than when my dad was here because of a few different things. My parents only recently as within the last five years purchased their first house.

He also tells her privately that she is not allowed to go out with my daughter and I that weekend. I find this out later. Needless to say, I'm not feeling good about him and I'm lost at this point and I'm fuming because I don't know when all this took place. I also need to add that Todd used to work with my husband. I wouldn't have even known as I didn't initially recognize the name but my mom mentioned it to me. So I call to ask him about the guy, not even telling him why at first, and he instantly tells me he is a snake in the grass, untrustworthy, manipulative, and vindictive. He goes on to tell me the guy was fired for stealing company time and reminds me that he

had told me about him before. About 15 years ago, Todd told my husband at work that Todd would be married to my mom if it wasn't for my dad. I then remembered the conversation and about how we all laughed about it and joked about it back then. I'm also very concerned at this point because I realized that he had had this obsession with her for over 15 years now. So I don't address it with my mom that night because I want to collect my thoughts and don't want to hurt her feelings. The next day she has a hair appointment and Todd had heard us talking about it. I come back from the store and Todd's vehicle is in the driveway. I'm not happy at all about it. I go in and he's there talking and standing with

her in the kitchen. She tells me right away that he just stopped to see her hair real quick. I find out later that he just showed up without calling. He also kept asking questions and seemed a little too interested in our St. Patrick's Day plans that first night. We were going to meet up with my grandpa and go out for a bit as we were Irish and it's a big deal for our family. I could see that he was taking mental notes of what we were saying when we talked about it so it wasn't surprising when he brought it up the next day at my mom's. I made it a point to barely say anything and he left a few minutes later. He leaves and I tell my mom right away that he is not effing coming with

us the next day. She immediately says okay and that she doesn't even really like him that much so she's fine with it, to my relief. Then he knocks at the door again and walks in and says that he left his phone there. My mom says he couldn't have left it anywhere but the kitchen because they didn't even go anywhere else in the house but he makes a weird point of saying that it must be on the couch when they were in there and sure enough it's there. Even though my mom swears that they didn't go in there but they are right next to each other and he could have easily just set it in there real quick while talking to her. I almost felt as if though he was listening outside but I can't be sure. So he leaves and I explain to her what my husband said.

My husband was very concerned to the point that he said that we needed to contact her work because Todd would try to get her fired as well as contact the police and let the neighbors know. I'm very concerned for her safety at this point. She trusts my husband with her life so she takes it very seriously and says okay. She goes on to tell me that she had only been talking to him for a few weeks and that he kept stopping by even though she would tell him not to. She did kind of like him I guess but wasn't really invested or anything like that and I think honestly just liked having someone to talk to. She tells me that he was going through a divorce but they hadn't finalized it because he was still on her insurance. I get that but he tells her that he just went to a lawyer to

finally get it done. She tells him, well I hope that isn't because of me or anything, and he tells her, well I had already paid the $5,000 to the lawyer and makes her feel obligated to him. I also find out from my uncle that he had a run-in with him. The very first week they were talking, Todd got my mom some tires for her car. She paid for them, he just picked them up. He drops them off and my uncle is shoveling the snow in her driveway. Todd comes up and doesn't even say hi or ask him who he is but just says, how old are you? In some weird way. My uncle tells him and then explains how he's related.

Todd doesn't respond and walks off into the house. When he comes back out my uncle says, thanks again for doing that for her, we really appreciate it. Todd doesn't even acknowledge him and just gives him dirty looks like he's jealous or something. I also find out that Todd told my mom some ridiculous story about my dad offering to do drugs with him at the bar, knowing my mom is against that kind of thing and she obviously can't question my dad. It's like he's competitive with my dad who isn't even here and it infuriates me that

he would bad mouth him and say something that I know isn't true. So that brings us to St. Patrick's Day. Todd shows up to our work again and just says, give me your keys, I'm gonna go wash your car. My mom says no, you can't take my car, and he's never even drove it before, he's just this pushy and presumptuous. She tells him he can't go my car and he's never even drove it before. He's just this pushy and presumptuous. She tells him he can't go with that night. He can't come over anymore and can't call. And she goes on to explain that we don't think he is good for her, that my husband is concerned and

that she wholeheartedly trusts him so that he is not to contact her anymore. She calls to tell me this and while I'm on the phone with her I start hearing someone pounding at her door. It's him I find out but I don't answer. I'm not sure how it's even possible to get there that fast. He knocks for 15 minutes and then leaves a note in the door for me to call him. I don't call but text and tell him I got the note but I don't feel that we need to have a phone conversation about anything. I tell him my mom explained the situation already. She doesn't want to see him anymore and he needs to respect that.

He responds saying that he deserves to know who said that. I tell him that's not necessary and we would have felt the same based on our interaction with him. I failed to mention earlier my daughter was also there when we met and realized she knew him. She was the main bartender for a year at that bar that he frequents and she hated him. He constantly tried to tell her how to do her job. When he met her, he tried acting like he didn't know her at first. He pleads with me to speak to him on the phone and I say it's not a back and forth discussion and he needs to respect that. He then goes on and says that he thinks it's all BS and that no one said anything at all. I tell him that I'll do everything in my power to make sure he stays away at this point and that we've notified her work, neighbors, and the police and he continues to call that night.

We've not heard from him since then directly but he sent a mutual friend to my mom's work to let her know that Todd said he won't bother her anymore, but that if she wanted to call him in the few weeks after everyone settled down that she could. This worries me that he's still holding out hope. It also worries me about what will happen tomorrow when I leave. To be continued... was home alone as my partner, a 32-year-old male, was still at work. Two delivery guys show up and one, a regular guy that we'll call RG, stayed outside while the other, complete creep or CC, came in to measure the doorways. My doors are narrow so it took some maneuvering to get the fridges in and out of the house respectively. While CC is measuring the various apertures of the house, I noticed that he was pinching himself through the front of his pants, like he had an itch.

So long story short, the fridges switched places in my kitchen and I was left alone with CC in my kitchen while RG loaded up the old one for disposal. At this point, CC starts drawing more attention to his groin and says that he's having a problem with his junk There was a language barrier so I assumed he had somehow hit himself during the fridge swap Turns out, he was just fully aroused and walking around with tent pants while he was finishing up the install I am now officially extremely uncomfortable and I tend to laugh when faced with situations that make me this uncomfortable, paraphrasing the conversation that followed due to the language barrier between myself and CC. I say, are you okay? Did you get hit? Not hit, just uncomfortable. And I note the obvious boner at this point as I've been trying not to look down

as soon as he started pinching himself. I start uncomfortably laughing. I'm going to need some help with this, I think. Referencing to the obvious. Not me. Extra uncomfortable laughter. Well, it looks like you'll have to deal with that elsewhere. Oh, I'd not do it here. Turns away from me and is obviously touching himself. Thanks for the delivery. It looks like we're all done here. Maybe you could help.

No, I'm at the point of intense, uncomfortable laughter. Uh, nah man. Now he's meandering towards the door slowly and seemingly reluctantly. Okay, things are getting weird. Things are getting weird? This is weird! I yelled. At which point this complete creep leaves my house and I

immediately lock the door. I told my landlord what happened and he was honestly aghast and followed up with the delivery company the next day. After reflection on what happened and how disturbing that behavior was, I have decided to go to the RCMP to report what happened tomorrow. This guy knows where I live, but I can't stand by yet again while some creep gets away with this kind of thing. Also, who knows how many other people have dealt with a similar behavior from this dude. Is it going too far to light up the business on Google, Facebook, etc. with reviews about their pervert delivery people. I gotta get this off my chest.

For context, it was probably after 2am. I was in a WhatsApp call with my girlfriend and we were talking like normal. Sooner voice cut off from the call and I started hearing a child, I assumed a little boy. He was talking, or more like babbling like babies do. My girlfriend has a younger brother, he's about 13 so it couldn't have been him. She didn't have any family in her room with her. And this was quite odd because it sounded like whatever it was, it was pretty close to the mic. I said, Jess, who is that?

Jess? Then as suddenly as it started, it ended, and an eerie silence took over the call. Jess? I asked again. Jess responded, What? And I asked her,

Are you alone? She responded, yeah, why? I just told her, nothing, just curious. And I left it at that. A couple of months passed and the strange interference happened again. I'm sure it happened after 12am. This time the call with my girlfriend got interrupted and got really staticky conversation between two ladies coming through. It was too staticky, I could just make out a couple of words and I said excuse me like at least five times and hello and I got no response or reaction. When silence filled the call once more I called out for my girlfriend and asked, did you hear that? She said, no, what did you hear? I told her what I heard and she just stayed

silent. I calmed her down by saying, maybe someone tapped into our call or my phone intercepted another call, I don't know. I'm not sure what it is. Trying to reason it made me even more uneasy. Thinking about a thing tapping onto a call was really creepy. Imagining that it was a creep hacking my cell phone connection was honestly worse. Some months after it happened, this time, it was worse. It happened during the early hours of the morning. The call got interrupted and I heard on the other end this chillingly high-pitched and fast laughter. It slowed down and lowered the pitch until it was the deepest laugh I'd ever heard. It shook me to my core. The laughter stopped and it started crying hysterically and after a few seconds of wailing, it stopped.

I immediately told my girlfriend and she got really scared this time and I told her to forget it and just to go to bed. I never forgot about these three incidents. It still freaks me out. I fear calling my girlfriend because of the interferences. If someone can explain this or has had similar experiences, please share in the comments. When I was eight years old, my family moved into a lower-income part of town. The good thing about it was my aunt, my mom's sister, and older brother on my dad's side lived in the same neighborhood as us. There was an old small building from what I'm told was a church. I used to come there to play a lot as I didn't have many friends. My father kept my family isolated the majority of my life. There was a girl who used to always

come and play with me. Before you ask, she was not a ghost. Her name was Henrietta. I always liked Henrietta. We always played together. She was like the best friend I'd ever had, considering I hadn't had any. Henrietta's family stayed about two houses down from an older man named Mr. Herbert. I'd say maybe he was in his early forties during the time. He was always very creepy looking to me. He would always stare at me and Henrietta through his bushes, or he'd be peeking out the windows at us. Mr. Herbert gave me the worst feeling ever. He used to tell Henrietta not to talk to him because he seemed like he was kind of weird. But she always as a child tried to

see the good in people. But I just couldn't shake the feeling of something sinister about him. I remember one night looking out my bedroom window and seeing him across the street in the bushes, just staring at my house. I closed the curtain for what seemed like 10 minutes and when I opened the curtains back up, he was walking through the field back to his house. The next morning the police were everywhere. It seems like Henrietta had went missing and no one could find her. I remember her parents being really hysterical about it because Henrietta was their only child. Because I was her friend at the time, the police along with my parents went to the station and I told them I'd last seen Henrietta at the old church we played at.

I was heading home and she said that she was waiting on a great friend to come by with candy. I had no clue who she was talking about, but I did mention the creepy neighbor Mr. Herbert, how he was always following us and staring at us and had made some comments about our body from time to time. My parents told me to stop telling stories, as they called it. Anyways, they apparently ruled Mr. Herbert out as a suspect in her disappearance, and Henrietta never came home again. Mr. Herbert skipped town about six months later, and there was still no Henrietta. It's been 24 years now since her disappearance. One day I cut on the news in our town and lo and behold,

Mr. Herbert, who was much older, was on there. Apparently the police came up with testing and found new evidence that was overlooked that linked to Mr. Herbert. They found Henrietta's body, or dismembered parts I should say, buried in a shallow grave. Mr. Herbert had violated her and then murdered her. He buried her beneath the old church floor. Apparently he was wanted in other places as well. The police said he had a list of young girls he was going to kill or had killed. He marked them out after each death. The police say that he had my photo and my name in a list, I was after Henrietta on the list, and apparently he was going to kill me next at some point. They ended up giving him life with no parole and he's currently still incarcerated.

Every time I think about what happened, I get the chills because it could have been me next. I love my wife Lena to the moon and back, and with each year that passes I become more and more convinced that she's my person and that I made the right decision to marry her. But oh my god, does she say some messed up stuff when she's asleep? She told me she's a sleep talker on our third or fourth date, pretty early on in our relationship anyway, and obviously I didn't hear any of it until we started having sleepovers. It wasn't even that bad when I first heard it either, just dumb stuff, and I actually had a lot of fun having these bizarre sleep conversations with her, because if you responded to some of the stuff she'd come out with,

she'd keep on talking like her subconscious had taken over. For example, one time when she was asleep and I was drifting off, she just said the name Brian. I'm like, who's Brian? And she just responds with, Brian's coming out of the faucet. I laughed so hard it actually woke her up, and when I told her what she said, she rolled over in embarrassment with a stop laughing at me. But then, as the years went by, she started coming out with this stuff that wasn't nearly as funny as the Brian thing. And then it got to be stuff that was honestly downright frightening. One time, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I did my business, walked back into the bedroom, then turned off the lamp on the bedside table as I climbed back into bed.

Then, in the pitch darkness, my wife says, It was following you. I actually felt the hairs on my arms and neck stand up on end as I asked her, What was following me? But my question was greeted by silence. Sitting in the dark, imagining some creature having been following me in total silence, that was one of the creepiest moments of our whole marriage, and it wasn't even the only one. This other time, I ended up staying up to binge watch the first few episodes of that Better Call Saul show. I try my best to stay as quiet as possible, then, just as I'm about to turn off

the light, I actually thought that she was awake because she says, Leave it on. I reply to her in all seriousness saying, Leave it on. Why? To which she responds, Because I need it to see. I thought she might have been reading, but I lean over the bed to see that she's not reading, and she's not even awake.

I then ask her again, leave what on? And she says, my head. That one was so creepy that I ended up running my hand down my face while half laughing, just blown away by how creepy some of her sleep talking was. I don't know what kind of horror movie dream she was having, but I'm glad it was her dreaming it and not me. Then there was the time that I woke up in the middle of the night with a mouth drier than the Mojave. I rolled out of bed as quietly as I can, and then right as I'm doing so,

I just hear Lena say, Can you see it? I just hear Lena say, Can you see it? I just freeze, primed for another one of her creepy sleep-talking moments, and I ask, See what? She then replies, It's over in the corner. Now, bearing in mind, the corners of the room are in complete darkness, and as much as I was well accustomed

to my wife's creepy nocturnal outbursts, I found myself extremely anxious as I reached for the bedside lamp. Then click, when the light came on, there was nothing there. I found myself just shaking my head, still amazed at how she had this absolute talent for saying the most unnerving things, even though she wasn't even awake. Most are really innocent things too, apart from the head comment, like she'll be dreaming about a freaking kitty cat or something, but in my head, it's some spawn of Satan just sat there in the corner, watching me with beady, black eyes in the darkness. You'd think I'd get used to it after a while, and I kind of have. Not everything she says is super creepy like I said, some of it's kind of hilarious too. But good god, the timing of some

of the things she says, it's like the sleeping version of her should write horror movie scripts or something, because even after all these years, she still has a way of seriously giving me the creeps with their sleep talking. This happened last night and I'm still rattled. My wife and I went to Target last night to pick up some tea and soups because she had a bed head cold and couldn't stand eating anything hard. She stayed in the car and I went in to grab what she liked and needed to make her feel better. I walked in and grabbed a water from Starbucks and turned to grab a handheld basket. At the same time, I didn't notice a man in Starbucks watching me. As I walked through the aisles looking for anything else to make her feel better or happy, I noticed him fall into step beside me. Now coming from a southern background,

I simply smiled and kept a subtle eye on him. He kept trying to talk to me, asking how I was, if I had a boyfriend, if he could have my number, etc. I cut my answers short and unmistakably uninterested in his company. I informed him that I was married and held up my wedding ring for him to see. He got huffy and again asked if he could have my number. I said no and to leave me alone. He starts getting aggressive and making disgusting comments about things he'd do if we got together in bed. And then he grabs my arm and tries to turn me around to face him. I don't take kindly to people touching me without my consent,

and slapped him, loudly telling him to F off and that he has no right to touch me. An employee comes running over and asks if I'm alright. The guy immediately tries to say that I'm his girlfriend, and that I was overreacting to an argument that we were having. I scream at him that again, I'm married and he's a complete stranger to me. He tries to argue and then hurries out to the parking lot when the employee asks the manager to call the cops. The employee and the manager walk me to the car and stay while the cops arrive to take the video footage which clearly shows the guy stalking me to the car and stay while the cops arrive to take the video footage, which clearly shows the guy stalking me from the Starbucks around the store and my statement.

I had to reassure my wife I was okay, and that I'd keep an eye out for him next time we were at Target. For God's sakes people, no means no. When I was in fifth grade, our washing machine broke. That really sucked for my mom because she had to haul two kids to the laundromat every weekend till the landlord got us a new one. It also really sucked for me because of what I had to endure every time. There was always this one man there, older and scruffy. I don't know why he was always at this laundromat. I don't recall him doing much laundry. He would just chat with my mom and us and whenever my mom was out of earshot, he would whisper vile, awful things into my ear.

My mom would usually give me a few dollars to go next door to the grocery store and get a magazine, Cosmo Girl or something like that. My memories of those days in that laundromat are of sitting there, staring at my magazine, trying to burn a hole with my eyes in it as I attempted to block out what he would tell me. He told me what he would do to my body in graphic detail, what it would taste like, what I could do to him, again in graphic detail naming every body part in the most vulgar terms imaginable. How much he wished that we could do these things. He said that he had a daughter and he would describe what we could do to each other. After one such day on the car ride home,

I was just feeling so gross and dirty and embarrassed, and all I could work up the courage to tell my mom was, so-and-so's weird. She immediately scolded me for being rude, and said that he was a nice guy or something like that. And that was the end of that. There was one day that she asked him to keep an eye on my sister and I while she ran to the Dunkin Donuts next door. I was nearly in tears pleading with

her not to leave us, but to let us come with her. But she just brushed us off and went. Luckily nothing did happen, but I sure was in fight or flight mode terrified till she got back. I don't talk about this to hardly anyone because it's so upsetting but I want people to know that with a scared humiliated kid without the right words to explain what's happening, so-and-so's weird might be all you get. Don't brush your kids off and don't trust friendly strangers. I still won't go into a laundromat to this day. In late 2020, I was working at a chain hotel off the interstate. I won't say which hotel, but it's a major brand. I was training a co-worker for the night audit shift.

She and I are both females in our mid-twenties. Around 3am, after all the paperwork for the day was done, I decided to show her the different room types, starting with the largest suite up on the third floor. Upon arriving on the third floor, we got off the elevator, started walking down the hall, and noticed a man who was sweating profusely just standing in the doorway of his room. He definitely seemed intoxicated at the very least. We walked by him, greeted him, as one does, and get no response. The fear was subtly palpable. We get to the suite that I'm showing her and as soon as the door shuts, I say that guy is giving me a weird vibe. I don't think we should walk

past him again to get back to the elevator and suggest that we instead continue down the hall to the stairs. As soon as we exit the room, we immediately notice the man is not only not back in his room, but facing and watching us. I whisper to her, girl, take your shoes off, we're going to run down the steps and into the parking lot, okay? She agrees and we take our shoes off at the top of the stairwell and bolt down the steps and out into the parking lot. We enter back into the building and run into the office and check the cameras. Sure enough, that man had followed us down the steps and was now looking for us in the hallway and by the door of the parking lot. We checked the reservation tied to the room number so I can inform my manager and tell them to place this person on the do not rent list. All I remember was that his name was

extraordinarily normal, so forgettable that it was something like John Smith. But jump forward to late 2021 and I turn on the local news and see this man who followed us down the steps that night. His name was Anthony Robinson, now dubbed the shopping cart killer, who killed two women in Harrisonburg and two more that we know of in Northern Virginia. He is known to have utilized hotels to meet and then victimize women he was communicating with online. This was my only close encounter and definitely very creepy in hindsight. Now that I'm safe at home, I'm beginning to process what happened, and I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. I, a 25-year-old female, had friends from out of state come into town for the weekend, and we decided to go downtown for drinks.

I drove separately because they were coming from an Airbnb. Around 2 a.m. we decided to leave, and my car was parked in the garage a block over from where my friends parked. I say my goodbyes and begin the short walk to the garage. As soon as I hit the corner, two large men began walking behind me. I try to suddenly put space between us. They suddenly whistle loudly and shout, but I don't see anybody ahead. I don't acknowledge but start walking faster. I pass an alley to my left and there's another guy walking out of it towards me. At this point, I'm no longer subtly walking fast. I make it into the garage and I park by the entrance so I quickly slip into my car and lock the doors. I turn around to look behind me and

see the guys that were following me stop at the entrance of the garage and watch my car. They talk for a minute before they spread out and stand across the entrance, blocking the exit. I don't move. I keep watching until other vehicles start coming in forcing them to move, and I take the opportunity to quickly pull out and floor it out of there. I could be paranoid, but my instincts were telling me something was up as soon as I saw them initially, and now I can't sleep. This happened literally about 30 minutes ago. I'm a 15-year- old female, short and petite size. I live in Florida so it was raining all morning today and I decided to go on a run in the evening.

It was a regular run. I don't like to run in my neighborhood just because there's too many turns and it messes me up at times. I'm on the side of the highway on the sidewalk where usually bikers and people walking their dogs are. There's a fire station close to me and I feel relatively safe most of the time. I carry pepper spray and always have my phone on me. I stopped at the two mile point and turned around and started walking, texting my mom where I was and then I'm coming home, changing the music, etc. I noticed a golf cart stopped ahead of me that I had run by before that same day. I recognized it by the smell of weed coming from it and occupying it was an old man who I was earlier not paying attention to because there was a golf course right there where

usually old people go to golf. I already get a bad feeling being a teenage girl and having something like this happen before. I walk past it and he tries to say something to me. I completely ignore it and just start sprinting away. I turn my head back and the headlights are on and this man is following me in his golf cart. I'm starting to freak out at this point so I call my mom and I'm crying while actually running for my life. I see a group of old people in a golf cart going into a neighborhood so I flag them down for help and get into their cart. At this point the guy following me is right there and continues

literally following the people that I'm with trying to get to me. My mom is livid by this point and thinks the people who literally saved me are the ones that are trying to kidnap me. She eventually gets there and figures out that they helped me instead of kidnapping me. I know the story is nothing serious and I'm thankful that nothing bad happened to me but I keep thinking what would have happened if those people weren't there and he was able to catch up. I could never outrun a golf cart and there was nothing but random neighborhoods around me. When I, a female, was 15, I became friends with this girl that we'll call Allie. We ended up becoming more than friends, but our relationship was sweet and pretty innocent. Her family was middle class and lived in a suburban neighborhood. She got along with her parents, but the whole family dynamic was just a bit odd to me.

She had one slightly older sister. Her parents were older than most of our friend group, like approaching 60 years old. And her dad used to be a pastor or something. Some very religious career and had a lot to say about the Bible and such. Which is why we were afraid to tell him that we were in a gay relationship and we just acted like we were besties. I remember early on Allie telling me how they got kicked out of the church because of some very insane lies and rumors, as she put it, and that CPS was called and is still an issue.

I was confused, but it made her angry to talk about so I didn't press it further. She seemed to believe none of it was based in reality and that was the first weird thing. They didn't allow her to have her door closed especially when she had friends over but the house was empty most of the time. One day we were changing into swimsuits or something and turned away from each other. I was facing a mirror and I saw her dad peeking through the open door at us. We were both nude. I froze and pretended I didn't see him and hoped that he'd go away. Then he was gone and I never said anything. At the time I thought it must have just been an accident somehow, like he was

just checking on us and didn't mean to see us like that. I don't know. Then Allie would tell me about these strange women who would come over and disappear into her parents' room for hours. Once her dad came back into the kitchen covered in sweat with a camera around his neck. Again, these people were middle class white Christians so it was really confusing. Once he came in the room after me and Allie had a sleepover and she had gotten up to get ready for whatever. He sat with me on the bed and basically said that being gay is okay because I can't get his daughter pregnant and that it's a sin but all sin is the same and that I might as well because we're all forgiven in the end so nothing matters. I thought that was incredibly jarring at the time. I didn't know how he knew because

we were only affectionate and private and even pretended to like boys. We never talked about it again. We ended up breaking up at age 17. There must have been more little weird things but those are the main ones I remember. I don't know what I'm looking for posting it here, it's just I kind of wanted to get off my chest. I'm still just very confused about all of it. 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.