The Lets Read Podcast - 207: MY NIGHTMARE FIRST DATE | 27 True Scary Stories | EP 195

Episode Date: October 3, 2023

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about 4chan, First Dates, & Home Invaders...   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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Hashtag make a play. Back in 2017, I was a 29 year old guy working as the head of social media for a large supermarket chain here in the UK. I had job security at a big semi-recession-proof company, a great retirement plan, and plenty of opportunities to advance further up the marketing team. There was just one big problem. I hated it. I hated how my entire life revolved around Twitter and Instagram. I hated the stale corporate lifestyle and all the cheesy pretentious management and marketing lingo. I hated the cretins that would somehow take issue with all of my team's posts, and I hated having to glad hand with executives who clearly resented having to deal with me. I also felt like I just hadn't enjoyed my twenties enough,

having spent more time climbing the corporate ladder than doing all the traveling and partying that brought my peers so much happiness. So one day, I just quit. My colleagues were stunned when I handed my notice in, although one or two were definitely hiding smiles since my old position would be up for grabs. I didn't care though, as one more year in that job would have driven me absolutely mental,

and I had enough money saved up that I could spend a bit of time just drifting and trying to find my passion. I didn't really have a plan for my future, only my near future, and that consisted of a whole lot of traveling. The only question was, where to? Given that I'd earned a B in GCSE Spanish, Central and South America was always on the cards. But after doing a little bit of research on the different countries I could visit, I decided on Colombia. Before you assume, no, my choice had nothing to do with a particular

marching powder that the country seems to be famous for Although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a fan of the show Narcos It was more of a case of Colombians having a huge passion for football As well as it being one of the cheaper South American countries Then when I heard that they could be very welcoming to tourists, my mind was made up. I paid three months rent in advance, did a big shop for all things I'd need for travel, you know, big rucksack, hot weather clothing, etc., then started shopping for cheap flights almost right away. Then, once everything was booked, including some initial accommodation,

I took a cab to the airport and caught my flight to Colombia. My first stop was Bogota, the capital city. And as incredible a place as it was, with amazing people and amazing food, Bogota isn't where my story occurs. I spent three weeks there and over the course of those three weeks I spent most evenings in this little bar around the corner from my hotel. That's where I got talking to this guy called Luis, who was an overall top geezer and introduced me to a lot of Colombian slang and culture. He also gave me a few tips on places that I could travel to next, and one of those places was Cali, near Colombia's southern coast. The first reason I liked the sound of Cali was because Luis said it was much safer than Bogota or Medellin,

which made it great for tourists. They had two football teams whose games I could catch for tickets that costed a fraction of what they did back home. And there was a massive salsa festival on for a week, which Luis assured me would be a good laugh, even for someone like me who had two left feet. I definitely wasn't into salsa dancing, but I did think the music was cool and at that point, it was all about experiences for me. And a few days before the festival,

I packed my bags and jumped on a plane for the one hour flight to Cali. Cali was a lot smaller than Bogota, still big, just not so overwhelming, so it felt a lot less intense and much more homely after a few days of living there. And then the festival started, and it was suddenly just as busy as Bogota because people from all over the country flocked to Cali for the annual Salsa festival. Like I said, I definitely wasn't into dancing at the time, but after watching so much of it, I suddenly found myself very jealous of some of the blokes. Because oh my god, some of the girl dancers were just stunningly beautiful. They were also everywhere, packing

out almost every nightclub and bar. Anywhere salsa was playing, these girls were looking for someone to dance with. I think the last time I danced before my trip to Colombia was the Macarena back in primary school. Then in the middle of this festival I suddenly found myself wanting to learn how. And that's how I ended up sitting in a nightclub, nursing a few beers and hoping I could find a girl who would teach me to dance. It took a few nights of hanging around and getting shot down but eventually I ended up making eye contact with a girl from across the bar. It was one of those you make eye contact then you look away and blush kind of things and since her table was all girls I just

knew I had a shot with her. So the next time she approached the bar to get a drink I sidled up to her and my best Spanish asked her, can I buy you a drink? She said yes. We got to talking and before I knew it, I'd forgotten all about the salsa lessons and was solely interested in her. She said her name was Maria Eugenia. I'll never forget that. She gave me two first names and said that she was a student at one of the local universities. We talked about this and that over a drink for hours before one of her friends popped over to tell her that they were leaving. I tried my luck and told her that she was welcome to stay in my hotel room. But she just laughed and told me that Colombian girls just don't do things that way.

If I wanted to see her again, it'd have to be an actual date where I took her somewhere nice and not just for more beers. It was a deal. I promised to take her somewhere fancy, and she gave me her phone number and asked me to WhatsApp her. A few days later, we met up in a very fancy little cafe for more conversation. She was even more beautiful than I remembered, and her English turned out to be so good that we kept swapping back and forth and sometimes leaning on her English more than my mediocre by comparison Spanish. Maria was just amazing, and I was just over the moon that she was showing any interest in me at all. I'm quite a streetwise person too, I'd like to think so

anyway, and nothing about her behavior was remotely suspicious to me at the time. So, after we grabbed some coffee, we got some food, then ended up going for more beers at a quieter place than the night before. We stayed all night, then when the bar kicked out, we bought a few bottles of beer and decided to walk back to Maria's hotel. Only two things. She bought the beers and walked out with them already open and I'm not sure the place we walked to was her hotel. That's the last thing I remember of that night. Walking through the warm, humid night and chatting away with this gorgeous Colombian girl.

After that, nothing. I don't remember saying goodnight to Maria, I don't remember walking back to my hotel, and I certainly don't remember everything else that I got up to that night. I had to piece it together the next day and believe me, the pieces weren't pretty. I woke up in a bed, my bedsheets covered in vomit, with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. I didn't fancy going back to sleep next to my own sick, but then the moment I sat up in bed, another wave of nausea hit me, and I closed my eyes and lied back down to keep from puking again, even though it felt like I had nothing left in my stomach. I've had some bad hangovers in my time, but nothing like that.

Yet, I've never actually been blackout drunk before, so I just assumed that that's what was happening when in reality, it was way worse. I had absolutely no recollection of wandering through Cali and somehow stumbling into more alcohol, and strong stuff too by the feel of it. But I must have, otherwise I wouldn't have been feeling like death, right? The first thing I did when I finally managed to roll out of bed was start looking for my phone. I think it was just instinctual at first, but then as I was looking for it, I realized that I could check for any calls, texts, or pictures that I made during the night which might help me fill out my patchy memory. The only thing was, I couldn't find my phone.

I checked the whole hotel room before realizing that my wallet was missing too, but that wasn't quite as bad as my phone because I got into the habit of just taking cash whenever I left the hotel and leaving my debit card tucked into my passport, kind of like an insurance policy for if I got robbed or something. So I get dressed, then go into my luggage to get my debit card just in case I needed to pick up a new phone that day. I then leave the hotel with the initial plan of heading over to where Maria was staying, naively thinking she might be able to help me piece together the previous night so I could maybe retrieve my lost phone and wallet. Only once I got to her hotel and the

manager told me that no one fitting Maria's description was staying there, did the penny actually drop. She got me blackout drunk and stole my phone and wallet. Obviously I didn't want to believe it was true. I wanted to believe that this stunning Colombian girl wanted to date me, and it was all just some horrible misunderstanding. But slowly but surely, it starts sinking in that something really dodgy had happened. But even as I was walking to the nearest ATM, when I actually accepted that I might have actually just gotten scammed. I had no idea how bad the damage really was.

I'm feeling pretty low by the time I find myself at the ATM, sliding my card in and selecting the 50,000 pesos button. 50,000 Colombian pesos was just less than a tenner at the time, and it was supposed to be a bit of hand cash so I could pick up a new wallet, get a bite to eat, that sort of thing. But then the ATM started telling me insufficient funds over and over. I knew I had way more than a tenner in that account, which foolishly was my only bank account at the time, so I honestly just thought the ATM might have been broken. But then, just before I walked off to find a new one, I instinctively got a bit panicky and decided to actually check my bank balance to make sure all

my money was actually still there. My balance should have been around 80 million pesos, which was roughly 20,000 pounds, and I remember how I started to feel sick again when the balance came back as just over 4,000 pesos. 4,000 pesos is nothing. It was just over a pound back then, and as I stood there, staring at this nauseatingly low number, I once again entered a complete state of denial. There was no way I could have lost 20 grand literally overnight, I just refused to believe it. The next ATM said I only had 4,000 pesos, then the next machine said the same thing, and it finally took a third ATM before it really hit me that I'd lost way more than

my phone and my wallet that night. Since I had no phone to call my bank, the first thing I did was go to the nearest police station to tell some officers what had happened. My Spanish isn't fluent by any stretch, but I knew enough to make myself understood and to understand what the officers were telling me. And once I told them everything that happened, from start to finish, one of them just looked at the other and said, Escapolamina. I had no idea what Escapolamine was at the time. I didn't even know it was a drug or what effects it had. So the cops had to tell me exactly what it was and how someone had used it to drain my bank account.

Basically, Escapolamine turns an awake and responsive person into a sleepwalker. Some people have used the word zombie to describe those under the drug's effects, but from what I understand, that's a pretty inaccurate way of explaining it. People affected by scopolamine seem mildly intoxicated at best, to the point that you'd have no idea that they were under the drug's effects unless you actually tested them for it. What the cops think happened is this. When Maria went inside the shop to grab some beers for us, either her or someone she was working with put the drug in my beer.

Then, by the time we were at the place that she said was her hotel, I was just gone. After that, I must have been in such a trance that I just gave them all my bank details and only later found out that they'd taken me to a load of different shops and ATMs to siphon off all the money. The police knew exactly what happened to me and were very familiar with tourists being robbed while under the influence of scopolamine, but they could do absolutely nothing to help me. Apparently, prosecuting someone for that kind of crime is very, very difficult, and unless I could bring them a list of places that had siphoned off my money, there was just nothing they could do. My bank was also disgustingly unhelpful when I was finally able to get in touch with them,

saying that I had passed several fraud checks by giving all my details when the fraud department called my phone. I tried explaining that I was under the effects of scopolamine, and although they too seemed familiar with fraud cases involving the drug, they explained that it was a criminal matter and that filing for compensation would be a long and arduous process. I did eventually get a list of the places I'd been robbed and I was in touch with a Colombian lawyer for a while about criminal charges but that all fell through after a while when he contacted me to tell me that the police weren't likely to put a case together. The only luck I had was with my bank who ended up offering me a few thousand pounds in compensation, but I did have

to basically threaten them with legal action unless they paid the compensation usually entitled to people who are robbed under duress. I couldn't get victims of crime compensation from the British government either as it was something that happened overseas, but honestly, I still count my blessings. As I'm sure you can all imagine, scopolamine is a very powerful drug, but people who get spiked with the drug before getting robbed, they're considered the lucky ones. Those that drug people and rob people with it barely know the exact doses to give people, and deaths from overdoses are shockingly common. Many a tourist has been found dead in their hotel room from scopolamine

overdoses, and so the fact that I even got to walk away with my life makes me feel very, very blessed sometimes. I ended up leaving South America early, as after getting in touch with my parents via the police station, they sent me enough money to get a plane ticket home as soon as possible. It was a really dark time for me after that, and I felt stupid and depressed for a long, long time. The only thing that actually got me over losing the amount of money was the fact that I could have died, and I just weighed up 20 grand against the end of my life, and suddenly things didn't seem so terrible anymore. I was one of the lucky ones, one of the people who got to leave Columbia

with just a bruised ego and an empty bank account, because there are many people who went to sleep after having their bank accounts drained, and never woke up. This happened back when I'd been out of the dating game for about a year or so. And being a painfully awkward person who doesn't really get out much, my best friend had convinced me to try online dating. I thought it was a good idea at the time, so I ended up signing up to that OkCupid website. I could just chat with people for a while, get to know them, then I could work out who was creepy and who was not, then just hit up whoever was the best match. So I meet this guy on the site and we spend a few weeks chatting and getting to know each other.

He actually seemed really cool and chill, kind of quirky but not nearly as red flag waving weird as some of the other guys I'd talked to. When the time was just right, he asked me on a date, and by that point I was quite excited about meeting him, so I said, sure, why not. I told the guy that I preferred simple, low-profile dates, so he suggested that I go over to his place so he could make us some dinner, and after that we could watch some indie horror films, which was something we were both into. I told my friend about this, the same one who suggested online dating, and we discussed some of the risks of just going over to his place instead of meeting in a public place first. I get that it's a real roll of the dice

doing that kind of thing, but there was the minor detail of me being 6'2 and him being 5'7. I know that's hardly a major height difference and it didn't bother me that he was shorter, especially when it meant that he probably wouldn't be able to straight up overpower me if anything went wrong with the date. Plus, I gotta admit to being a real sucker for a guy that can cook, so that definitely clouded my judgment in many respects. That being said, when I showed up to his place, me and my friend had developed a code word system that we could use through text or calls and she had all the details of where I was. So if I got there and things just didn't feel right, I could call her or text her,

drop the emergency code word, and she'd think of a reason for me to leave and then come pick me up. Anyway, as I said, I arrived and we got up to his apartment so he can show me around. He started emphasizing his bedroom a little too much, commented on how his big bed would fit me, but I just put that down to some awkward bad taste jokes and got him to move on. After that, he then takes me to the kitchen, where I assumed that he was about to try and claw some points back by actually cooking me dinner. He talked about what a good cook he was and how he was going to wow me with his cooking skills, but when it came to it, he hadn't actually bought anything to cook at all.

All he bought for our date was this bottle of red wine, and he claimed that it was super expensive, I guess. I made the mistake of showing up on an empty stomach, thinking that he was actually going to cook for me, so when I found out that I wasn't about to be fed, I was very disappointed, and actually kind of angry too. But then, instead of understanding why I'd been so annoyed, the guy kept emphasizing the bottle, telling me how he'd spent like a hundred-something bucks on it,

and that I should be more grateful that I actually dug deep into his pockets to buy a something like that. Don't get me wrong, I like wine, but I don't know wine. So to me, that thing could have been the rarest bottle in existence, or the cheapest crap from the crummiest liquor store, and I'd never have known it. So instead of having dinner, we ended up talking over this bottle of wine, which I'll admit was pretty good, but not something I'd ever pay hundreds for. The first actual red flag I noticed was when it became blatantly obvious that he was trying to get me wasted. There came a point where if I took so much as a sip for my drink, he'd be all like, want a top off? And pour even more wine into my glass.

That combined with the not making any kind of dinner at all and I started to get very uncomfortable. I still figured that he was just trying to be romantic or whatever, and that he was just dumb as opposed to malicious or predatory. So after pretty much forcing him to let me eat the remains of a bag of chips and some toast, I felt together enough to just carry on with the date and see where things went. I mean, he was also drinking pretty heavily, and I always figured those kind of guys would, like, pretend to drink or something, just to make their date drink more.

But he was chugging that wine down like a trooper, so I just slowed my sips until all the wine was gone, then we headed to the couch for some movies. Anyway, we sit on the couch and I ask what movie he'd pick for us to watch. He'd already picked something out and was keeping it a surprise until I got there and had teased me with a selection all day like, you're gonna love this movie, it's so hardcore, so underrated, stuff like that. Gotta admit too, I was actually

pretty stoked to find out what he'd picked, as I knew that he had good taste and we shared a lot of favorite indie horror movies. But then instead of some hidden gem I'd never heard of, something I could actually take an interest in, something that might salvage what had been a pretty crappy date so far, he pulls out a Serbian film. For those that don't know, a Serbian film basically bills itself as the most graphically gruesome and disturbing movie of all time. I know some people are really into it and can talk for days about all the metaphors, hidden meanings, and theories surrounding it, but me personally, I hate it. It's just an increasingly violent but meaningless mix of gore and adult movies that has zero value past shock. So when he suggested we put it on,

I very politely asked if he had anything else in mind because I'd already seen a Serbian film and I wasn't all that excited about watching it again, obviously. But nope, he insists we watch it, picking up on the fact that I wasn't into it and then trying to tell me that the only reason I didn't like it was because I didn't understand it. I pretty much decided there and then that this guy wasn't getting a second date, and as much as I was mad at how patronizing he was, I just kept my cool and got my phone out to text my friend our emergency code word so she could end the date. As soon as I got my phone out and started typing, the guy is like vocally irritated when he says, who are you texting? His tone and attitude once again affirmed why he

wouldn't be getting a second shot at this, but again I just kept my cool and replied, just letting a friend know I'll be home late tonight. This is something me and my friend had already planned out and it worked like a charm. The guy totally thought that he was in the clear and calmed back down again on the assumption that I was going to give him some or whatever. Then a few minutes later, my girl comes through with the call and puts on an Oscar winning performance that there had been a break in at our apartment, we lived separately. The call volume was loud enough that the guy could hear and all I had to do was act naturally and sell the bit.

My friend then asks if I need a ride from somewhere and I tell her this guy's whole address down to the zip code just to suddenly let him know that someone knew where I was. I thought I was going to be out of there in maybe 10-15 minutes, but then my friend tells me how she had to drive her little sister somewhere and that she was 40 something minutes away. I was livid. It turned out that she had to run an errand for her mom whose car was in the shop so I guess it was just bad luck more than her not sticking to the plan. But still, I was pretty horrified to think that I'd have to sit through 40 more minutes of such a gross film with a guy that had gotten way weirder and creepier as he'd gotten drunker. For the next 30 minutes, I had to sit through the guy giving me this whole thesis on why a Serbian

film is the best indie horror movie since The Blair Witch Project, and that the reason it's so horrible is because it's a mirror which reflects a decaying society or some nonsense. As the minutes tick by, increasingly weird and gruesome things are happening. But basically, there comes a point when something super gross is happening, and a kid is involved, I'll just say that. I don't want to tell you exactly what happens in the movie, less because of spoilers and more because it's so disgusting that I don't want to type it out. But it gets to this really bad part of the movie and the guy next to me starts breathing super heavy and loud through his nostrils. He'd also insisted on

turning the lights off by the way, which admittedly I did agree to. But then picture the sound of heavy breathing right next to you in a dark room and you understand how creeped out I was. I gave my head the tiniest little turn, straining my eyes to see what he was doing and saw him just staring at the screen. First time he'd been quiet for pretty much the whole movie. I then actually turned to face him to say, you good dude? And after giving me this weird little groan of, uh huh, actually scoops up to the couch a little to be closer to me, like so close our hips are touching. I tell him, whoa there buddy, way too early for that move. But he just sort of whines again and replies, Why not?

Thankfully, it really was coming close to pick up time, so I could use that as an excuse as to why we couldn't start doing anything. But then he saw it the exact opposite way. Because I was leaving soon, he felt all entitled to getting a little something. Two waves of grossness hit me, one after the other. The first was how poorly he timed his little move on me, coupled with the actual physical contact. Both made my skin crawl, but the second wave of grossness hit me way harder because that's when I considered what had actually prompted his little finesse attempt.

He'd been staring super intently into some of the grossest, most obscene stuff I'd ever seen on film, and that's what had him wanting to make out. I cannot overstate how completely creeped out I was. I remember recoiling a little, but then he tried to put his hand on my thigh and then that was it. I was out of there. I didn't care if I had to wait then that was it. I was out of there. I didn't care if I had to wait in the street outside. I was not spending another minute in this creepy handsy guy's dark apartment. I grabbed my purse, stood up and told him, I'm sorry, I have to go.

After that, I just marched towards the apartment front door and hoped that he wouldn't try and make a scene in the hallway. He didn't actually follow me outside, which I'm grateful for, honestly, but somehow what he did was way, way worse in terms of how terrifying it was. Picture me walking down the apartment's hallway, almost total darkness, praying that he wasn't about to run up behind me to kill me, and then all I hear in the dark is this screech, and I mean screech of, You're not leaving! I just zoomed for the door, somehow got it open after panicking that the guy had locked it somehow, then bolted downstairs and out of the apartment building. I kept thinking that he'd follow me with a freaking knife or a baseball bat or something

and although he didn't, that fear was constantly with me as I power walked up the street, looking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure that I was still alone. I then gave my friend a call and told her to hurry up and thankfully she was only a minute or two away so I was out of the neighborhood and finally safe from the guy, or at least in my mind I was safe from him since I didn't know his neighborhood very well. The whole car ride back I was telling my friend how a weak start to the date had just descended into this total nightmare, and the whole time she's cringing so hard, until I got to the part about that scene of the movie and how he'd reacted to it. And that's when she started getting scared for me, laying on apologies about taking so long

to get to me. Obviously, I forgave her. It wasn't her fault that her mom had a car emergency, but I was still pretty shaken up after having to wait there for so long. I ended up blocking the guy's number before he could try to get in touch with me again, but after a few days of the incident being on my mind, I decided it wasn't enough to just cut him out of my life. He might not have hurt me that night, he might not even try to, but something told me that it was just a matter of time before that guy did something that couldn't be fixed by just a pint of gelato and some girl talk. I know it's not illegal to go on a bad date with anyone, and I know this might make

me sound like a total Karen in many ways, but I ended up calling the cops just to tell them what had happened. They agreed that it wasn't illegal to be bad at dating, and I knew trying to pursue assault over his thigh touch thing would just be pointless. But the cops were cool in that they said that they keep his name on file just in case anything came up in the future and they actually thanked me for letting them know too. That made me feel like I might have actually done something to prevent anything really bad from happening in the future and part of me hopes the cops went over to warn him but maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part. What I do know is how that experience totally warned me off of online dating for a few years and it wasn't until Bumble came out that I actually started dipping my toes back

into the water. I know, I wasn't hurt and I can say that in a world where so many young women's lives are snatched away by violent men, what happened that night still terrified me. And I'd never have guessed that the guy was like that from our few weeks of talking online. But the number one thing I learned from it? Always, always meet in a public place that you know well for a first date. And always have an escape plan. This all happened during my first year in uni. I once agreed to go on a date with a very good looking guy that also seemed pretty nice so obviously I'm chuffed. He'd approached me in the city center saying he recognized me from uni then he laid down loads of charm before asking me out so I decided to see how

it would go. First date he started by being a gentleman, you know, holding the door open for me, pulling out my chair, that sort of thing. He was actually pretty good at conversation too. Things felt natural and chilled. We had a nice dinner too but then when it came to the end of the night he started to really push into the physical whereas I was in no hurry at all. I had to straight up tell him to back it up because I am not that type of girl. I didn't know nearly enough about him to trust him and honestly thought he was smart enough to respect that. But after that date he started constantly texting me at all hours and would get irritated to the point of threatening if I didn't message him back. The last straw was when he called me

twelve times in the middle of the night, each call coming one after the other. There were a bunch of weird messages like, why aren't you answering when I need you? And I just couldn't take any more from him. I was very straight and curt. I told him he needed to back off and chill out, but his response was to tell me that he was in love with me. I felt these intense, twin feelings of cringe and dread,

cringe because of how obviously cringe it was to say that so early, then dread because I realized getting rid of this guy would be a total ordeal. I texted back something like, I have no idea how you can think that because you have barely gotten to know me and I hardly know you. He then followed up with this barrage of texts that continued long into the night and each one somehow got more and more creepier as the night went on. I remember he'd always send two messages, real quick, one after the other and one pair was like in all capitals, why aren't you answering? I thought you were the one and you can't even text or call? That's messed up.

Then he'd follow up with, don't make me come find you. He mostly kept to that same pattern for the whole time that he was texting me that night. One text would frighten the life out of me, then the other would read like he was trying to convince me that it was all my fault, or that I shouldn't be so scared of him even though he just said something incredibly scary. I wish that I had been somewhere other than my uni dorm which was away from where all my friends from lecture were staying because there was no one there to stop me reading his messages. I know I should have stopped for the sake of my own sanity but at the same time I just couldn't stop reading them. I remember wanting to know if he had actually found me or had said anything like, I'm on my way to you and I wanted to know if I really needed to

worry about my safety so I just kept on soaking up all this horrible words and threats until I just turned my phone off and cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I demanded that he delete my number and stop contacting me because he was scaring me. He responded by trying to call me roughly 30 times throughout the day. Then when he realized that I wasn't going to answer, he texted another night until I turned my phone off. One morning, I had to be up for 6 for work and I must have forgotten to put my phone on do not disturb because it just started screeching my ringtone on the bedside table, waking me up in the process. When I saw that it was his name on the screen, I just lost it. I actually answered the call, then proceeded to give him what for. I told him that his behavior was disturbing and that I truly

thought that he needed help and that I really didn't know him enough to be at the receiving end of this, how I just didn't bloody deserve it. I think he was just in shock that I answered the call in the first place, because he just broke into apologies and started telling me how sorry he was that he'd been so immature. I could barely get a word out, as he told me how if I gave him another chance, I'd be glad that I did, and that we were so right for each other and he was just overwhelmed by it all. I thought I was rid of him, but to hear how he was just so completely deluded and over-emotional about a first date was as scary as it was depressing. I just went with a new clear option. I told him I didn't want to see him again, and that if he contacted me again with any threatening messages, I'd be going straight to the police.

He didn't even respond when I told him that. He just went all quiet, either out of sadness or out of rage. Then after a few seconds of silence, I just hung up. The next month or so was pretty blissful. I didn't hear from him at all, and the whole incident went from being a fresh wound to something I joke about with friends. Then suddenly he starts writing me on Facebook, commenting on all my pictures and posting all kinds of stuff on my wall.

I had naively lowered all my privacy settings so that people I met at uni could contact me easier as I was still a first year and I wanted to network. Big mistake on my part, and as much as I blocked and reported them as quick as I could, in my mind, the damage was already done, as some of the people I'd met over the year now thought that I had some weird obsessive boyfriend. After that, he started sending me emails that said things like, I can't stop thinking about you. Sometimes I see you around and it kills me that I screwed up my chances with you. You're such a decent person, but it's pretty messed up how you handled things.

I didn't reply. I just made sure to block all his social media and email addresses as I figured showing him any attention at all would just make things worse. That definitely seemed to work for a while as his attempts at communication dropped off completely, but then things escalated in a way that was even creepier than his attempts to talk to me online. So during the last few months of my first year, I managed to get myself a part-time job at a little cafe in the town center. Then towards the end of one shift, my colleagues started talking about some guy who had been sitting across the road from the cafe on some steps

and how he'd been there for hours. I got this sinking feeling right away and asked one of them what the guy looked like and they pretty much described my stalker to a T. When I went to make sure that it was him, basically praying that it was just some kind of coincidence, my stomach dropped when I saw him sitting there, staring at the front windows of the cafe. We made brief eye contact for a second, then I went straight into the back of the house to tell the manager what was going on. She was brilliant about the whole thing and told me to stay in the little manager's office to phone the police while she went out to tell the guy that the police were on their way, and he shouldn't be hanging around outside a girl's workplace waiting for her to leave. Over the next week or so, I was in touch with a police officer who asked me to share all records of times the guy had communicated with me, especially all the threatening messages he'd sent me. Luckily, I'd had the presence of

mind to screenshot the more violent and threatening messages just in case I had to actually go to the police. I didn't want it to be an empty threat. I wanted to be able to really show the guy that I meant business so the police could show up at his place or give him a call to let him know that they knew what he was up to. And that's exactly what they did. They gave him a call to let him know that they knew what he was up to. And that's exactly what they did. They gave him a call to check his thinking, as the one officer put it. Then after that, he didn't attempt to contact me again. That incident of stalking at the cafe was the last interaction I had with the guy, but it wasn't the last I heard of him.

A whole year later, I was talking with a girl in the smoking area of a pub I was drinking at and the conversation got on to student dating. She started telling me how she'd gone on one date with a guy that she thought was really handsome and charming and he turned out to be a complete nightmare. I asked her how he was a nightmare and she basically described the exact same behavior I'd been subjected to the year before. I asked her if the guy was named Liam, and her jaw dropped before saying, yes, how did you know? I then spilled my guts on how the exact same thing happened to me, then basically told her to do all the same things I did, screenshot messages, forward them to the police, and most importantly, do not engage.

She seemed really, really grateful to be talking to someone who knew what she was going through, and we kept in touch to make sure Liam left her alone too. We're still good friends actually, even all these years later, and although we're not in the same city anymore, we still keep in touch to provide a bit of dating support network, so to speak. Thankfully, nothing like that has ever happened to me since, but at least I know that if it does, I'm actually equipped to deal with it in a way that I just wasn't when I was 24, I tried my luck at PlentyOfFish.com. This was maybe only months before Tinder started getting popular and I had a way better experience with that app, but then instead of just holding off for a few months, I was so desperate that I went with the jankiest, most depressing website in history, Plenty of Fish. When I was using it, there seemed to be a lot of really sad looking divorcees who put their last

few chips on finding love online. I mean, all power to them, they deserve it and I hope they find someone. But reading all the stories of divorce and wanting to remember what real love feels like as a 24 year old guy, it was just uber depressing sometimes. But then, after a month or two of striking out, I get talking to this cute girl who's the same age as me and as the days go by, we really started hitting it off. We had to wait until I was home from college in December to actually meet up but she was great conversation and she was so cute so I don't mind waiting to date her. And even better when it came to actually organizing something she invited me over to her family's home because her mom and dad were out of town

visiting relatives for the holiday. I know it might sound crude but finding out that her folks wouldn't be there was when I figured that it would no longer be just a movie and a pizza kind of deal and that if I played it right I actually might get to eat breakfast there too if you know what I mean. Anyway I go over to her place for what amounted to our first date. Everything went smooth and I ended up staying overnight. Then the next morning I wake up earlier than she does and I'm just sort of lying there, watching her sleep. I know that sounds creepy but she looks super cute asleep and generally reveling in that little feeling of victory you get after a date going well.

The next thing I know, I hear the front door open and slam as someone enters the house downstairs and instantly I'm rolling out of bed to get dressed because there's no way I want my first introduction to her parents to be just appearing in their house having obviously slept with her daughter. Me rolling out of bed wakes her up too and when she hears someone downstairs she starts freaking out and telling me to hide as we begin hearing someone walking up the stairs. I just throw on what little clothing I had in reach, then basically dived under the girl's bed and kept really, really still and quiet.

Seconds later, I see the door open, and the feet of the guy I assumed was her dad walking into her room. But then the way he started talking to her was not how any dad talks to his daughter. At first I assumed the worse, like they had some kind of really unhealthy relationship or something, especially when I heard them kiss, and it sounded a lot like it was on the lips. But then, as they carried on talking, I realized that they definitely weren't father and daughter and that my date had some kind of weird sugar daddy relationship with this guy while living in his house. The idea of getting caught by that guy and not the girl's dad had me way way more scared for some reason. But then when he said that he was going to go take a shower, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I actually had an escape route.

The second the guy left the room I scrambled out from under the bed and started putting the rest of my clothes on, whispering to the girl like what the actual F were you thinking putting me in danger like this. She's just like oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't think he'd be home so soon. She didn't even address the fact that it wasn't even her parents' place, and I was so mad about all the things she'd lied about that I didn't even bother to bring them up. After all, the priority was getting dressed and getting out of there. I figured since the guy was in the shower, I'd have at least a window of like five minutes to get down the stairs out the front door without him being any the wiser. But then, right as I walked out of the girl's room and onto the upstairs landing, the guy walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel and we lock eyes right there and then. There's just this brief moment where all he says is, who are you? And then he sort of just looks over my shoulder at the bedroom

and quickly puts two and two together. I started running down the stairs before he even reacted, but I knew that he was chasing me just from the sound of him screaming right behind me. I ended up struggling with the front door for a second, just long enough for him to grab me by the shirt, but somehow I managed to pull myself out of his grip and get some more distance between us. Then I look around and the guy is chasing me down his driveway, completely naked, with a look on his face like he was seriously about to kill me if he caught up with me. I swear to god, I've never been so terrified in my whole life. Not just of having the crap beaten out of me by a guy way bigger than me, but having the life beaten out of me by a naked dude.

That was just this whole other level of fear. The next time I looked behind me, the guy was gone, and I figured that he suddenly realized that he was running through the early morning streets with no clothes on, before bailing back inside before anyone called the cops. Probably even weirder than that though was the fact that the girl actually wanted to see me again. It kind of dawned on me that she actually liked the idea of two guys fighting over her and that she was just some manipulative cheating skank. I didn't see her again, I just deleted her number and she stopped trying to contact me. But sometimes I wonder if she hooked some other guy into her little game and that he wasn't so lucky in being able to get away. To be continued... I ended up going back to this guy's apartment after what had admittedly been a great first date.

But when I got there, it turned out that he lived like an absolute savage. Just to be clear, I wasn't actually planning on giving him anything. I was just really vibing with him and didn't quite want the conversation to end so early. His kitchen smelled like death, his bathroom was disgusting and I swear to god I spotted some kind of brown red stain on his pillowcase as I walked past his bedroom. I was on the verge of just ghosting right then and there, but I figured no one's perfect and his cleanliness was something that we could just work on if we ended up being a couple. But then, he mentioned something about having a kid he never saw, and when I asked why he didn't get to see them, if his ex was a psycho or something, he just said something like

nah, I have no interest in being a dad at this stage in my life. I really didn't like that answer, so I pretty much just ended the date minutes later by telling him that I was tired and had to be up early the next morning. He obviously didn't take that very well, as I think it was kind of obvious that I just decided that I wasn't into him based on his attitude towards his ex and how he kept his apartment. But still, he lets me leave and I head down to my car to drive back home. Then, as I'm backing out of his apartment's parking lot, I see something rushing towards my car out of the corner of my eye. It was the guy that I'd been on a date with and for a second,

I figured that I might have left something behind in his apartment so I stopped the car and waited for him to knock on the driver's side window or whatever. Instead, he walks around in front of the car and just slams a fist into the windshield so hard that he cracks it. I swear that he must have broken his knuckles or something from the impact, but I didn't stick around to find out. I just backed up and gunned it towards the parking lot exit as he ran after my car. I was instantly shaking so hard that I had to pull over after a few minutes of driving and I called my mom to tell her what had happened. She ended up taking an Uber to where I was parked so she could drive me back to my apartment as I was honestly worried that I might cause an accident or something. It was definitely the single worst date I'd ever been on,

and it was really weird because it started out so well. I guess you just can't tell a lot about a person until you actually see how they live. To be continued... I have some exploration stories that I feel should be shared. I work as a contractor for this maintenance crew, but since we're a rather small team, jobs often get split up. So one day, I was late with my maintenance at this one spot that was enshrouded by massive blackberry bushes. The only way that I could get out at that point was to exit via a tunnel that I had to cut into the bushes. But even after I got through the thick bushes, it was too dark to walk back on the mountain trail so I had to sleep on site. It was May and still pretty cold in the mountains and I only had a cotton parka jacket with me,

which was completely wet from digging deep holes all day. Along with this, I had a small utility tarp that I was using to make soil, but I didn't have any cord to create a faux tent. I used my pack and bags with soil conditioners as a pad and the tarp as a blanket. Falling asleep was easy, but the actual sleep itself was rough. In the middle of the night, in absolute darkness, I woke up hearing frightening sounds that I obviously can say I've never heard before. Every five seconds, I'd hear what sounded like cries from a large bird, but the sound was emanating from behind the blackberry bushes and I could tell that it was screaming at me. If I were to estimate from the sound of it, this animal must have had a voice box about the size of a pig or dog.

I mean, you could tell that it was large. But soon I noticed that there were also several other cries and they were circling around my sleeping spot. And this went on for a good hour. Absolutely terrifying and I still don't know what it was. Another time, I hiked to a location that I needed to get to that night. On my way there, apparently a storm had broken off quite a few large branches from some trees, and I had to move them out of the way. They were massive, making it difficult to move through the thicket. Only an adult would be able to move them. When I was walking back about two hours later around dusk, I was absolutely sure that nobody else was around me, just me and nature.

As usual, I could hear the birds' warning cries from the storm and could see every spider web overstretching the path that I had avoided previously. I could see fields of goldenrod still untouched. I'm only mentioning this because I need to hammer home that once again, I'm absolutely sure that there was no other living person around here at the time of this. But when I came back to this section of the path, the branches I had moved earlier were now moved back into the middle of the path, the branches I had moved earlier were now moved back into the middle of the path. There was zero chance that they had just rolled back onto the path as I rolled them down a slope. There isn't even a parking lot or a nearby road. Something picked

up those branches, walked them up the slope, and placed them where I had once moved them from. I've never seen a single soul in that area. Another thing that scared me quite a bit was an experience I had during winter. I was sleeping in just a sleeping bag in a section of the forest that I thought I knew quite well, and I had my campsite on a small elevation overlooking a small glade. There was light snowfall, and the dark clouds above in the night sky were moving fast and occasionally revealed the stars. There were no other sounds, so you could hear everything quite clearly. However, after some time I was sure that there was something in the woods that

is laughing in a mischievous, perfidious fashion right at the other side of the glade. It occurred a few times per minute, but sometimes there was nothing at all for a while. I estimated the origin of the sound to come from slightly higher up, as if something would be sitting in the branches above, as if I was being watched by whatever it was. Coyotes can't climb trees, that's more of a feline trait. However, based on these observations, I think that there was a spirit in the forest that can be benevolent or malevolent depending on what you're doing there. All of these events happened during a time where I had been intruding or messing around with the

forest in these locations, so that might be a reason why this happened. I know it's weird to pinpoint in on forest ghosts, but ever since I got recruited to a different employer, I am now only going out for recreational hikes and nothing like this has happened again. The next one is much more unsettling. The horrifying story of John Jones, a 26-year-old young man who decided to explore narrow tunnels on November 24th, 2009 with his brother, Josh. What started as a simple exploration into the nutty putty caves west of Utah Lake would turn into a nightmare. John grew up in the area and was even familiar with the caves since he visited them several times. He knew what safety measures he had to take to explore them since they

contain a network of tunnels narrow enough for a person of average height to pass through with hands and knees. That faithful November 24th, Josh decided to organize an exploration of the Nutty Putty Cave since John was visiting Utah and would be staying for the holidays. John, who had always liked exploration, accepted, along with nine other people including friends and family. However, his wife Emily was expecting their second child, so she didn't go. Finally, the group arrived at eight at night and began to descend through the caves. They wanted a challenge to pass the narrowest tunnels of the place, and for this, they needed to make a series of stealth

movements. An hour after having entered the caves, the group separated into a formation called the Birth Canal, which would send them to narrower caves in the shape of a circle. But John ended up choosing the wrong path, and got into a rather narrow tunnel. One that, when advancing each time, would get narrower and narrower. Moments passed and he realized that this was not the tunnel he was looking for. The more he got in with his head and arms, the harder it was to return out. He was stuck, and he thought that the only way to get out of that mess was to continue ahead, not knowing that there was no way to turn back. Terror took hold of the situation. John exhaled and sucked air out of his lungs to be able to flatten his chest, then he advanced further.

However, fate took a hold when John went to take a breath again. His lungs expanded, leaving him trapped under pressure inside the cave. He was alone, and when he struggled and tried to back away, the flashlight that was on his forehead fell off, getting him lost in the tunnel and leaving him totally in the dark. While John was calm, his brother Josh had found his legs and tried to pull him out, but he couldn't, so he told John that he would go to seek help. The cave where John was found was so deep that the rescue team took more than an hour to reach the scene because it was so narrow. Only a person with certain bodily characteristics could enter so that they would not be trapped either. The rescue work seemed to be easy, just grab his legs and pull.

Susie, who was a volunteer for knowing theaves, took care of going to where John was. By this time, he had already been face down and stuck for more than three hours. However, he talked to her and told her that he really wanted to get out and she told him not to worry because they would have him out of there very soon. Susie tied a rope to his feet and they pulled between three people, but it didn't work. She tried to accommodate him in different positions, but this didn't work either. She tried to cut his clothes to give him a few more centimeters of space and even another member of the aid team descended and pierced the wall. But still, there was no good results.

John had been on his stomach for too many hours, making it difficult for his heart to pump blood that accumulated in his chest and on his head. The rescuers did everything in their power, like using a pulley system as they did years ago with another young man in a similar situation, but that other person was much smaller. John was 6 feet and weighed 189 pounds, so the pull was so painful that everyone began to fear the unthinkable. Later they realized that the only way to get John out was by breaking his legs, but nobody wanted to do that, so they tried to continue with the pulley plan. Twelve hours later, John was in a panic and began getting claustrophobic. The only way to calm him down was talking to his wife who spoke to him through a radio.

Nineteen hours later, the bow holding the hand rope with the pulley broke, causing loads of rocks to fall on John. The rescuer who was with him at the time was also hit by these rocks, knocking him out and breaking his jaw. Sadly, the last rescuer who was with him at the time was also hit by these rocks, knocking him out and breaking his jaw. Sadly, the last rescuer who entered experiencing the worst pain, which was hearing John finally admit defeat. I'm going to die, right? The rescuer promised John that they would take him out. And John's last words were to ask about the other rescuer. Is he okay? And after that, John lost consciousness and stopped talking.

It was almost 28 hours of panic at 215 meters deep in the cave, Bob's Push, which had an L shape and was only 18 inches wide and 25 centimeters high. It was difficult to abort the mission. A paramedic declared that he was dead, even though he knew that John could still only be unconscious. His wife did not want to leave the place and the lieutenant and the sheriff convinced her, saying that they would take him out to bury him. But everyone knew that this would not happen either, just as it was impossible to try to get him out alive when he could push and wiggle without life. It would be much more complex. The cave was sealed and today his remains rest in that very place. Hey X, I've got something interesting enough to bring me here to post this. I hope some of you can perhaps give me some insight as to what I experienced.

I was just another average 8 or 9 year old kid living in Utah, wasting a summer vacation while life was still fun. Out behind my house, practically in my backyard, was a huge embankment at the mouth of a canyon coming from some nearby mountains. There was a drainage pipe that acted as an outlet for the little water that came down from the canyon at the base of the wall, right above this big old pile of accumulated sand. It was like a perfect natural sandbox with a natural garden hose providing a constant, steady trickle of water. This was easily visible from the back windows of my house, and this allowed for my mom to watch me play from within the house and she'd let me mess around all day at the base of the pipe. Back then, I was a huge dinosaur nut and had a bunch of those nice, cool collection models that a destructive kid like me should never have.

I would take a bucket full of these out to what I'll just call the sandbox every day and would create little river systems, immersing myself in some fantasy anarchist society that I'd created for my dinosaurs. I would sit out in the sun for hours and get sunburned pretty much every day with a neighborhood kid who was kind enough to tolerate me. I believe I did this on and off for the majority of the first half of the summer, and the way kids pass time, man, it's something else. In mid-July, it started to rain more and one night we got hit with a decent thunderstorm. I lay in bed that night, no doubt anticipating the new mud pit environment I'd be able to play in the next day.

I got so excited that I could barely sleep that night, and so I got up at an hour that no doubt upset my parents and headed right out to my sandbox, not even bothering to wait for my friend. When I arrived, a significant amount of water was coming out of the pipe and a small pond had formed where I usually played. I played with my newly created lake for about half an hour as the sun rose a little bit. By this time, it had to be 7 or 8 in the morning and I was sticking dinosaur toys in the shallow mud and trying to balance other toys on pieces of floating wood debris

when something floated next to my hands. I went to push it away because it was on a collision course with one of my improvised boats but ended up recoiling from it. You know when you're a little kid and something startles you so badly that you don't even scream? You just kind of stare and retreat back a little while your heart jackhammers in your chest. That's what I did. Whatever this thing was that floated up next to me, it was about the size of a guinea pig. And I'm using an animal as a comparison because whatever it was, it was definitely something organic. But it sure wasn't any animal or living thing I had ever seen or seen ever since, and it still freaks me out to think about honestly. I floated in a low current region at the edge of the pool for a few seconds and

I got a decent look at it. It had that fatty pink-gray waterlogged color of something that had been dead and in the water for a little while but not yet decomposing or falling apart. It definitely had a head and a torso from which trailed half a dozen tentacle-like things splayed out around in the water with a couple dragging in the mud. The thing was hairless, nor did it look like it even had hair, but it wasn't scaly either. But the worst of all was its face. Not a human face, not even close, but definitely a face. It reminded me slightly of the face of a pug or bat, all wrinkled and flat. It had a toothless, slack open mouth, and I could see one of its its eyes which had that dead, custard-like color. I was so scared that all childish desire to examine it or poke it with a stick was gone.

I quickly retreated back to my house and told my mom what I had seen. My mom seemed both worried and interested and accompanied me back out so I could show her. By then, the current had carried it away, along with a couple of my dinosaurs, which to me at the time was almost as equally as upsetting as seeing the dead corpse itself. We looked around and found one of the dinosaurs, but never found the body or any remnants of its tentacles. I was too nervous to play there for the next couple of days which worried my parents because I really loved playing out there. They tried to convince me that it was just a decaying dead animal and so eventually I got over it and went on playing. A few years later

when I was 13 or 14 the whole incident flooded back in my mind and I tried to explore up the canyon to see if I could find anything, but of course I didn't. I never forgot the way it looked. I know it could partially be explained away as the result of a creative childish mind, or that it really was the decomposed remains of something else, but I remember it very clearly, more clearly than any other childhood memories. I had searched the internet for explanations and haven't found anything. I have even looked into cryptids and the like, but nothing fits its description to a T. I've had some unexplainable things happen to me while playing video games. Either bottled characters would show up with their names that related to me on a personal level,

like my search results, or sometimes I would join a lobby and felt like I wasn't supposed to be there. It's hard to describe. Have you ever wandered around on old Minecraft files, for example? Not in multiplayer mode or a friend's server. Just you and yourself looking at a world that you made years ago. It has this eerie, almost liminal feeling to it. You know you're alone, but then you can't help but question if you really are. Maybe it's just me, but it always felt like something was watching me. Now I can chalk all that up to being paranoid or something, however, I have a few instances that I still cannot explain to this day. Example 1. This isn't anything paranormal, but

once whilst playing The Elder Scrolls Oblivion about 10 years ago, I fought an enemy called Goblin Assassin during a quest where you're asked to defend some farm from a goblin horde. Afterwards, I repeated the quest multiple times in several different playthroughs and I've never encountered the Goblin Assassin again. I rummage through everything in my folders. It doesn't exist in the game's files. It doesn't exist in the test room. I have absolutely no explanation for it. Example 2. I have a Mandela effect with Fable 3 of all games. There's a level toward the end of the game where your character and his mentor, Walter, travel to a distant land to discover some true evil that was coming to threaten the world.

In the process, you both get separated and trapped in a dark tomb. Now, I distinctly remember a part of that level where you play as Walter who is cripplingly afraid of the dark. He can't fight and just slowly walks through the dark ruins with a torch while some dark ambience plays around you. Stuff like statues falling, shadow monsters showing up and disappearing in the distance, etc. This all happened until, at the end, where he's captured and you go back to your character. I remember it even more clearly because Walter's dialogue the entire time is just him angrily saying, balls, balls, balls, over and over again through the course of the

scene. A friend and I, who were playing it at the same same time made it into a dumb meme as well. We would talk about that level and start to repeat the word balls over and over again as a goof. Well, turns out that never happened. Walter just disappears when you're separated. There's no segment when you can't fight and are forced to walk. The game just plays like normal, spawning enemies to fight in a dungeon. Still no idea what happened, and it feels like I'm being gaslit every time I search for it on Google. Example 3. I don't know if this counts as paranormal, but there was this group of quests in a Fallout game that revolved around a small group of people.

I remember them all having similar names to people that I knew when I was growing up. Most of them were unique names too, or at least unique spellings. As the player, I had to read about the group, their final moments, and learn about how they died. I couldn't save them either, because they're already dead by the time you get to their hideout. Another time, in Fallout 3's The Pit, I remember playing it on the PlayStation 3 at the time. Long story short, there was a quest involving a baby, Marie, who was deemed as a cure to everything. Resistant to radiation, poison, trog, degeneration, all that stuff. However, due to me having the cannibal perk and also due to me being super bored that day, I clearly remember choosing an option to eat the baby at the end with my cannibal perk. The game prompted a dialogue

box calling me a monster and completely tarnishing my karma in the game. But everywhere I look, I'm just told that I was playing some sort of unofficial PC mod. Problem with that is, I never played PC. I was playing this on the PS3, plus my internet was terrible back when the DLC was released, so I'd remember downloading something like this because it would have taken ages to finish and install. I can't explain what happened, but I know that I remember clearly getting the text box after eating the baby and being like, man, that's awful. But cool they respected the immersion all the same. I was participating in a reenactment one year.

This was a Vietnam one, so I had my AR-15 along with several extra blank loaded magazines. It was getting very dark, and most of the crowd had left. We talked to the group's captain and he recommended night practice, basically a patrol in this abandoned cornfield. It sounded fun so I said yes. After the first two scenarios were done, I was placed on the opfor, opposing force side. I went into the woods and waited, and that's when I first noticed that it was dead silent. All that could be heard was the occasional gust of wind through the dead stalks of corn. I glanced around the forest, then crawled out when the wind started up again. Two loud cracks then filled the air, and I watched as an Op-4 walked out of the cornfield with his weapon up.

This was followed by something standing up near the corn and firing again. Now, if you've never shot at night, it's a sight to see. The sudden light of the gun's flash makes everything freeze in time. It's to the point that you can quickly survey the area after a shot's fired, or so you think. Anyway, he's soon taken down as well, so I continue into the cornfield and lie down in a nice spot, hoping they'll come my way. I rest my rifle in a nice spot on my shoulder and everything kind of goes quiet, and that's when I hear a deep breathing beside me. I slowly turn my head, looking to my right. It's pitch black out so I can't see anything.

I could use my light but that'd give my position away at this point. I peer through the blanket of darkness, seeing what looked like fur. I slowly rolled over to my side and drew my knife, just in case it was a predator. Look, I at least wanted a fighting chance, I suppose. But then something moved in front of me. I quickly readjusted, but missed what it was. When I glanced back to where the breathing was, it was empty. I soon got up and moved, somewhat shaken at this point. And that's when I heard another two cracks, along with the captain, laughing.

I walked right into his line of fire, and that was it. The game's done. His next idea was using the woods only. I loaded up a fresh mag and began to follow him in. It's him, me, and a Viet Cong actor that was there for the actual event. I was at the back in case they tried to flank the rear. After a few minutes of walking, I heard a rustling nearby. I called for them to hold it, then took a knee and looked toward the bushes where I heard the noise. I saw what looked like a person standing there, but that's all they were doing, just standing. Figuring that it was opt for, I fired. Everything froze and I could see what can only be described as a person that was dragged out from hell. They were beaten up and mangled looking, with pale white eyes. I tried to take a

closer look and focus, but it went black again. The captain glared at me for letting our position be known when there was nothing there. He didn't see whatever it was. We continued down the trail and hit the ambush, winning the fight. We gathered up, cleared our weapons, then began the trek back to camp. When we reached the field, I glanced around the group. We'd gone out with six, and I now counted seven, including myself, in both times. Strange, but maybe I'd miscounted before. After all, it was dark and I was tired.

When we reached the camp, I decided to count again. Six, including me. Something wasn't right. I asked about the other guy that was with us and got funny looks as a response, so I just ignored it and went to sleep. The rest of the time was thankfully uneventful. I've looked into this recently, and I want to say skinwalker, but it doesn't fit the stereotypes. This thing didn't do harm or lure one of us out for an attack. Either way, I haven't gone out at night for patrols since then. I know carnivals often have a layer of controversy to them, either because of clowns or because of some creep who ruined someone's experience. So I've decided that I'll share my story because it involves both of those. It was 2016, middle of September, and the county fair always comes to town during this

time of year. Being a good brother, I promised to take my little sister who was only four years old at the time to the fair. The time comes around, I get off of work, and we get there at about 6pm. I let her ride on the kiddie rides, eat funnel cakes and other fried foods, all the good stuff. She's having a fun time, and that's all that mattered to me. We weren't having a great time at home, and so I just wanted my sister to have a good time somewhere else. After I lost a game at getting her a large stuffed animal, we walked over to the snack bar to cheer her up when a clown walked up next to us. Now, I was weirded out seeing that this was the only clown we had seen since arriving there. But I figured that he noticed her being sad over the

stuffed animal and wanted to cheer her up. Maybe for a cash tip, I don't know. He was an old looking man, probably in his 60s, and seemed like your standard carny man. I don't mean any disrespect, it's just that he seemed like he was built entirely for the circus or carnival or whatever. So he greets my little sister and makes her this little balloon animal. She instantly cheers up, smiling at him, and he returns a big grin. I thank him, but he ignores me and walks off, really playing the bit, I think to myself. The stand we originally went to was out of soda, so we made our way over to another nacho stand and I ordered her some nachos. Food meant comfort to me so I figured I'd spoil her. While we ate, I noticed the same clown we

had met earlier was leaning against a game booth along with another guy who looked much younger than him. Think maybe mid-thirties with long hair, a muscular build, and a few tattoos on his arms, and both of them were staring at us. I'd try to keep my profile low as I watched them keep saying stuff to each other, but unfortunately, they were way too far away for me to comprehend what was being said. But from the way they looked, I knew it couldn't have been kind words. Finally, they catch me looking at them and the clown gives me a light grin, exposing a few yellow crooked teeth as well. I give him a nod back and try to think nothing of it. We finish up and go about our business. About an hour later,

we're getting ready to leave as she started complaining about her stomach. My fault too, but I love watching her be all giddy about fried Snickers bars. As we're packing stuff up into my bag, I notice that the same two guys from earlier are sitting at a bench near me. They don't notice me again and this time, I unfortunately hear their conversation. Old guy says, The little blonde girl was the one I liked. The one in the black shirt with the flowers.

I would have gone up to her too, but the guy wouldn't let her leave his sight for nothing. She was high on you too. All real friendly like. Probably wouldn't have put up much of a struggle if you just snatched her. I heard the younger guy saying back to him. The younger guy then turns to his side and looks at my sister and I pretend not to notice. Hey, isn't that her right there? I watch as the old guy flashes her a wink and that's when I freak out.

I began raging at them, picking up my sister at the same time and tell them that I'm contacting the police. And without another word, I ran off with her in my arms. I ended up contacting the police and they tell me that they'll investigate it. Eventually I get a call from the police telling me that there's no leads yet, but whoever it was, they didn't even work there. The police went on to tell me that the company that runs the fair doesn't even employ any clowns. To be continued... I didn't get to see them very often but when I did, my cousins would usually always tell me about a neighbor they had. They'd tell me all these stories about how weird he was, how creepy he was, and so on and so forth. Well come summertime, I'm out on break from school and my dad suggests going to visit them for a few weeks.

Beyond excited, I agreed to it and we flew out later that month. It was actually a really wholesome experience seeing them that year. I think someone just got married so everyone was all bubbly. Either way, I'm hanging out with my cousins and they bring up the weird neighbor again, saying he got divorced and how it was probably because he was so ugly. I don't know, just something cruel that kids would say. While we giggled and made all these hyperbolic statements about how ugly he could be, I did feel sorry for the guy. Being divorced simply because your partner doesn't think you're attractive anymore, that must have hurt anyone's feelings. The following morning, I wake up before everyone else and I'm just outside swinging on their swing

set. I finally saw the neighbor out that morning and decided that it was time someone was nice to them. My cousins can joke all they want, but maybe the guy wasn't anything like they said. Besides, none of them actually spoke to him, so I'd be the first one to do so. I went up, greeted him, and just like that, we got to talking. He was actually rather soft-spoken, maybe even a little shy, but it felt like he meant well. He was loading garbage bags into his car when I went over, so I helped him out. I didn't think that he was weird or anything, just that he was an old fellow that could have used some conversation. We loaded up the trunk with the bag and he left, waving me goodbye.

My dad and I left Australia a few days later and I finished up my summer break at home, completely forgetting about the neighbor. Fast forward 13 years later and my cousins come to the states to visit me. By this point I had my own apartment so it was just my cousins and me while my aunts and uncles went to my dad's. We got to talking about old memories and finally the topic of their neighbor came up. I mentioned how I didn't think that he was as weird as they said and he seemed like a caring, nice old man when I helped him with his bags.

Suddenly, everyone just stops immediately. Wait, do you know? Is this like a joke or something? One of them said, and I shake my head and comment that, again, I thought that he was nice. The bags. How did you find out about the bags? Another cousin spits out. They're all just staring at me, shocked while I was clearly showing that I wasn't playing some joke or prank on them. And finally I say,

I have no idea what you guys are talking about. I spoke to him once while we were loading trash into his car and I helped him. Immediately, several of them get up and pace around the room, while another puts their head in their hands. It turns out, he wasn't actually divorced, but rather he found out his wife was cheating on him and proceeded to kill her. Everyone in town knew that she was a cheater so once she vanished, the town just assumed that she left him. And so on that specific day he was dumping his wife's chopped up body into his car. And I, a 12-year-old little wholesome teenager who was just trying to be nice, was his accomplice.

Ever since finding that out, the summer is no longer just a hot season or a break from school. To me, it's the season that I dragged around. A dead body. To be continued... I was out with friends at a party at some girl's parents' log cabin in the middle of nowhere. Late into the party, I ended up getting separated from my friends and decided to chat up some random people. I like being friendly with people and it comes much easier to me once I have a drink or two flowing through me. So I get into a random conversation with some guy and his friend talking about whatever. I distinctly remember that one of the guys is brown haired while the other one is blonde and looks like he hadn't slept in three days. I casually mention how hard it was to find this place given that it's in the middle of nowhere. All of a sudden, the brown haired guy looked at me with a really worried look and his blonde friend stands up, probably over two meters tall and skinny as a

tree branch. The blonde guy starts laughing about how I couldn't find my way here. Confused, I ask what he means as there are no other houses nearby. I continue about how as mentioned before it's in the middle of nowhere and that I had to drive two hours by car to get here. His voice starts shaking for lack of a better word, almost like it was changing pitch on every word that came out. He says something about how stupid I am for thinking that. And so I, being a bit drunk and an overall aggressive teenager at the time, tell him that he shouldn't call me stupid or I'll beat him where he stands.

The blonde guy just looks at me with this eye-piercing gaze and says, Oh you will? Do you want to take it outside? His brown-haired friend is visibly scared but I continue to look into the blonde's eyes and they are, without a doubt, the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen. And look, at this point, I had already been in my fair share of fistfights, plus I was drunk and I had done some coke, so generally I wouldn't really think twice about beating some skinny lanklet. But something about this dude just screamed danger, like every cell in my body was urging for me to move. Suddenly, I start sweating and feeling faint, like I'm about to pass out, and he says, I want to take you outside.

And like that, I promptly pass out. I wake up, not five minutes later, but my friends who were asking where I went and why I'm lying in the backyard. I looked around and saw that I was lying next to the opening of the forest. We went inside the cabin and into the place I was sitting just five minutes prior. Before, there weren't any people in the room, but now it seemed packed. Then it hits me. During the time that I was talking to these two guys, which must have been about 15 minutes, not once did I see another person or even hear one.

My friends comment that I must have vanished for over an hour, which I guess lined right up with the timing. Finally, I asked about the guys, to which nobody knows what I'm talking about. My friends had been in the room that I was in for quite some time and not once had they seen me or the blonde and brunette that I was describing. We go around questioning everyone and we find out that there were no two people like that at the party nor anyone invited that fit their descriptions. Sometimes I have nightmares about this to this very day. I still don't know what happened to me to be honest. Do any of you guys have literally any idea? I used to hang out with my friend in Dublin when I was 15. Normally I'm from the countryside so this was a pretty cool time away from things. One day he and I went to hang out with two girls in a park somewhere. He says he knows them pretty well so I trusted him and from things. One day, he and I went to hang out with two girls in a park somewhere.

He says he knows them pretty well, so I trusted him and went along. We all were just chilling outside beside some trees, relaxing in the shade on a nice, sunny, dry day. The girls were actually pretty cool to be around, if I remember, until all of a sudden, some 40-something guy approaches us. He looked completely disheveled, eyes looked exhausted, and he was clearly not all there in his mind. We're friendly towards him, making small talk and humoring him as he asked us who we were. But then out of nowhere, he starts to get sort of aggressive. He begins standing too close to the girls, raising his voice irrationally,

not exactly mad but very loud and forceful. We all want to bail as we try to politely come up with an excuse to leave and that's when the man takes a real close shine to the one girl, Grace, and suddenly rambles out, Grace, I'll take you and we can get married. Look, I have a car. And he pulls out actual car keys. The way he talked about the keys made it definitely obvious that they weren't his, which was even more concerning. Freaked out, we just got up and started walking away at this point. Grace's friend is still trying to be like, Okay, see you later, bye now, bye. But instead, the man starts closing the gap between us. He starts shouting, in a rage,

demanding to know where Grace was going. And that's something that I wondered about from time to time. Like did the rest of us even exist in his mind? Or was it all about Grace? Anyway, the guy starts jogging towards us and we drop the nice act and break out and do a full on sprint. I don't even look back as I'm sprinting because a part of me knew that he was giving chase after us and he just screams out again. Grace! Grace! I love you! Finally, we all turned around to see where he was as we got to the edge of the park, and it looked to be that he tripped near one of the trees. He was just rolling around on the ground, kicking up clouds of dust and screaming incoherently.

Before anyone even could call 911, these two strangers in coats arrived at the park, catching him as he screamed out in a rage. Turns out, my friend forgot that the central mental hospital was right around the corner from the park, which means the guy was probably some highly dangerous forensic patient and likely attacked someone before. The keys he had, while they could have been anything, might have been stolen from a doctor or nurse and aided him in his escape. When I was 16, my dad dated this horrible woman who I'll just call Suzanne. So Christmas was coming up and my dad decided to uproot the family tradition of spending holidays together just so he could spend Christmas at her place. This caused a huge argument one night over dinner and even years later, things are still shaky. I called him names, I called Suzanne names and then I got kicked out. I was told to fix my behavior, respect my elders, all that stuff teenagers usually get. Luckily my uncle at the time also didn't like Suzanne so when finding out about this he lectured my dad, my uncle's the oldest sibling between them all, and then let me stay at his place over Christmas break. My uncle picked me up the following weekend. He lives rather secluded with a nice house up in the mountains. There's a good

amount of land that belongs to him but his neighbor's land is vastly larger. One night, I decided to use the land to my advantage so I told my uncle I was going for a walk and then snuck off to get high. Before I left, he told me that it's fine to walk around but to just make sure that I stay on his side of the property line. Apparently his neighbor had shot some hunter chasing a wounded deer onto his property earlier that year. I started to look around for somewhere not visible from the house which is harder than it sounds because the house has huge windows everywhere. I finally spotted an old shed on the neighbor's side of the property line and went to check it out. The door had a padlock, but the guy left the key in, so I unlocked it and stepped inside. Suddenly, I'm smacked by this raunchy smell. I mean, it hits me like a freight train. It's like a dead raccoon or sun-cooked roadkill, but a hundred times worse. Instantly, I dart away from the shed and nearly vomit,

thinking that I might have stumbled into a serial killer's base or something. I took lots of deep breaths before finally working up the courage to walk back in there. I turn on my phone flashlight and shine it inside and am disgusted with what I see. Small, decapitated animal carcasses. Everywhere. There's animal bodies piled up against the wall. A few rabbits and a coyote nailed to the wall. Or at least what I think used to be a coyote. The walls and the floors of the shed are all caked in dried blood and what I can only describe as miscellaneous gore. I don't even check my surroundings, I just instantly nope out of there and I ended up just walking down the street to get high behind

a 7-11. After some years I went back and heard some rumor about the neighbor actually shooting himself. Shed was long gone by that point, apparently. Honestly, I'm just glad that he didn't catch me snooping around. When I was 18, after high school final exams, I was selected for some of the preparatory classes to the most difficult selective schools that exist in my country. Despite how pretentious it sounds, I didn't even want that in the first place. But long story short, my father forced me to go, so I moved up to these classes the next year in another city. Once there, I was assigned to a paid room with a roommate. At very first glance, he appears to be okay, just a little bit annoying, like he was playing his music at loud volumes and rapidly became unsettlingly familiar with me and yet I still

barely knew him. I mean, he was like giving me nicknames already right out the gate. I'm not much for conversation or socializing in general, so as time went on, things began to get worse and worse. I was extremely introverted at the time, so I guess I became a perfect prey for him. He would start to try to guess personal information about me, like if I was a virgin or if I had ever kissed someone before. He'd become intrusive and use whatever I would naively confess about my personal life in order to demean me, and to progress to the point where he really was just trying to verbally humiliate me. I was very isolated, so maybe I was too responsive to that. He would often get on my

bed as I was lying down reading and make these weird comments about a teacher he liked. Then he would lay in what I can only describe a rather ambiguous pose. Then came the physical altercations. It started off with punches on my arm or smacks on my back, ones that could be played off with him just messing around. One day, out of nowhere, he shoved me across the kitchen, and I had enough and just shoved him back. I remember he stared at me in both confusion and humiliation, like how dare someone do it back to him. From there on, he never roughhoused in a friendly way, but more in that I'm alpha way, from pushing me away from doors so he could enter rooms first, to randomly putting me in chokeholds in front of girls.

It finally got to the point that one day he would block me in the bathroom just to beat me up on the floor. All just for fun, I guess. You might think to this point that it was just kind of hardcore bullying, but it was blatant for me that the guy was actually simply wanting to gain power on someone that appeared to be weak for no reason, and he could be physically violent at times, even if the worst part was simply emotional manipulation. Personally, I have no doubts in my mind that he could likely be a narcissistic pervert or something close to that. So I skipped that class after a few months, partly because of him, but also because the class was dreadful in general. One night, years later, I decided to see what his deal was, where he was going and how he made it into those

classes with me. So after checking his name out on the internet, I found out even more unsettling news. Not only was he some senator's rich snobby kid, which explains the ego and the fact that he was in a selective school, but that he was in the process of becoming a teacher. This guy will have students under his will, and that is the most concerning part to me. I was about 10 years old. I had to go to speech therapy maybe three times a week. I had a bit of a stutter and a lisp, so I was quite the regular by the time this happened. The place we went to was quite a distance away from town, so we would pull up, my mom would let me out, and I'd go in there alone after school. Then my mom would pick me up after it was all said and done.

She always said that she had errands to run, but I think she just didn't want to go in with me. This actually allowed me to open up more about troubling problems I had at home since no one was around to correct what I told the therapist. So one day, I get dropped off and begin the session as usual. Once it was nearly over, my therapist left the room and crossed the waiting room to get something from her bureau. Now, I can't see the waiting room since her office was pointed into the hallway, but I could hear the therapist talking to

someone. This surprised me, honestly, because every time I entered the building, it always seemed empty with no other clients. Of course, that was just my child brain's logic, and I probably was coming in at a dead time. But suddenly I hear, Yes, we'll finish in just a minute. He's doing well today. To which I hear another voice say, Fine, I'll wait. It sort of dawned on me that I didn't recognize that voice. It wasn't the reception, and she was definitely referring to me.

On top of that, my therapist was only talking with me the last hour or so and didn't take any calls nor see other clients. So she comes back and tells me that my mother is already waiting in the lobby, which again doesn't add up because she never came inside. Shortly afterwards, I got into the waiting room and of course, my mom is nowhere to be seen. I give the situation the benefit of the doubt because hey, maybe she was in the bathroom or something, so I waited for a while. Eventually, I checked the restroom and there again, zero trace of my mother. My mom wasn't a smoker either so she couldn't have stepped outside for that but at this point I had no ideas left in my mind. So I walk out and go down to the parking lot and lo and behold, our car isn't even there. Now I'm left stranded at this building with literally no one inside yet

there was apparently someone nearby who came to pick me up. I walk back up to the front doors and I continue to wait. Approximately 10 minutes later our car finally pulls up. My mom keeps apologizing and tells me that she's late because of a traffic jam and I asked if she stopped by earlier and she said no, that there was some crash that took out the bridge that exits town and that she was in a jam for the last 40 minutes. I look at her, shrug my shoulders and get in. Nothing like this has ever happened again so I guess that just leaves me with a question. Who did my therapist see and talk to in the waiting room? I've quibbled with the thought of publicly sharing my story for a while now. Recently I've arrived at a place where I think the benefits of sharing outweighs the risk.

People can be so judgmental. So I'm taking a chance and just putting it out there. And maybe it'll help someone. Many times I've looked back on the odd events leading up to the scariest night of my life, October 5th, 2015. I'd like to say that I did everything right. But honestly, in hindsight, I should have done more. I'm convinced that my son, who was three and a half at the time,

actually saved me from harm that night. I could have easily become another statistic in the crime database. Although my stalker didn't hurt me physically, it took me months to get past the psychological damage. And here is my story. In May 2012, I temporarily exited the workforce following the birth of my son Chris. He was born with a physical birth defect that would require multiple corrective surgeries during his first year of life. He was also born two and a half months early, which had complicated things further. NICUs are no fun. Chris's father Aaron agreed that I should stay home with our son until he

was one years old, considering the circumstances. In May 2013, I felt comfortable enough to leave my son with a babysitter, so I went job hunting. I ended up being hired on the spot as a waitress at a small but very popular chain restaurant in my little town. Let's just say that this little diner is widely known for waffles and we'll just leave it at that. I was hired on to work second shift, the newbie shift because it was not as busy. After two months I had worked my way up to first shift, the breakfast shift is the money maker. By the summer of 2014 I had long built out a clientele of regular customers that enjoyed my service and tipped me quite well, enough for me to have a little put back in the savings which came in handy when Aaron and I broke up, which

is not an amicable split at first. I ended up moving out of our apartment with Chris and renting a small two bedroom trailer in the same town. It was mid-November of 2014 when I first met Ryan, the man who would later stalk me. It was an abnormally slow Saturday morning shift at the diner. Two men, one late 40s, early 50s, and the other maybe early 20s, walked into the diner together and sat down in my section. They weren't my only customers at the time, so when the older man of the two started making small talk, I had the time. The older man introduced himself to me as Ryan, and the younger man with him was his son. Right away, by his body language and tone, I could tell Ryan was being flirtatious with me. He even cracked a cliche joke saying,

There's no way you work here because you're too pretty. You have all your teeth. Honestly, I wasn't super amused with that tired kind of humor. I'd heard it a million times over by then. And while Ryan was decent in looks department, I'd even venture to say semi-attractive, I was a little annoyed with being casually hit on by him. I was 25 years old at the time and much closer to his son's age. But nevertheless, I faked merriment because a happy customer equals a better tip. It's just part and parcel to the job. Suffice it to say, my fake laughing and smiling paid off, earning me a $10 tip on a $20 ticket. They were only there for 30 minutes too, not too bad I thought to myself.

The following weekend Ryan came back to the diner. This time and every subsequent time thereafter he came alone. There was nothing unusual about this interaction than from the last. I took his order, we chit chatted when I had time, I kept his coffee refilled and that was it. But apparently he enjoyed his experience because, again, he left me a nice $12 tip on an $8 ticket. Ryan began visiting the diner every weekend from then on up until the end of December. By then, he'd started coming two to three times per week, and at this point, he really started showing an interest in getting to know me. Now, that's not something unusual per se.

I had some other regulars that I actually developed friendships with, some even getting me Christmas gifts and such. So I did tell him things about myself in casual conversation during his visits. Just normal things that normal people talk about. One of the things I eventually told him about was the medical miracle that is my son. I even bragged about the fantastic job his doctors did, showing him the before and after photos of his surgeries. Over those past several weeks, Ryan's attitude toward me had changed. He was no longer this annoying, flirty middle-aged guy, but rather a seemingly caring person.

Maybe I was naive, but I genuinely appreciated his kindness and I did not interpret it as a romantic gesture at all. Ryan continued coming by on my shifts for breakfast three times a week. February 2015 is when the first strange event occurred, which was soon followed by a string of more. It was a Tuesday afternoon. I had picked Chris up from the babysitter and was headed home from work. Now, where I lived was on a small uphill dead-end road. As you pulled onto my road from the main highway, you could easily see my trailer on the right side at the top of the hill. It was positioned perpendicular to the road and the backside of it is visible as you drive up the road. As I eased my way up the hill, something

immediately caught my eye. I could clearly tell my back door was open. I put the brakes on immediately and tried to figure out what to do. I literally never touched or unlocked that door, much less opened it, so I knew something was off. A door is not going to unlock and open all by itself, and I ended up parking my car off to the side of the road and calling Aaron. At this point we were on good terms and co-parenting our son very well. Aaron came straight over and checked out my trailer while I remained back in my vehicle with Chris. About five minutes after entering he called me and told me that it was all clear. Again it's a pretty small trailer so I made my way up the hill expecting to have been robbed or

something, but nothing was missing. There was no damage to the door and so Aaron basically brushed things off saying that I must have forgotten to close the door myself or something. I knew better, but since there was no sign of a breaking and entering, I let it go. Two days later, on Thursday, I come home from work and the same thing. My back door is wide open. At this point, I know I'm not crazy. I know I had locked that damn door.

It didn't have a deadbolt, by the way. It just had a lock on the doorknob that you turn. I had even tested it out that morning before work to make sure that it was locked, so I called Aaron again. I stayed parked with Chris on the side of the road while he did a quick pass through my trailer. Again, nothing out of the ordinary except my open back door. A quick inventory showed that nothing was missing. I was nervous at this point thinking that someone had broken in twice and Aaron disagreed. He attributed this problem to a faulty doorknob lock which made no sense to me and he then went to Lowe's and purchased a type of heavy duty swivel lock to install on the door that locked from the inside of my home.

He wanted to put my mind at ease at least. So while he installed the lock I combed through my home. He wanted to put my mind at ease at least. So while he installed the lock, I combed through my house. I mean, I literally spent hours after Aaron left inspecting every nook and cranny of my trailer. The outlets, my shower head, vents, my panty drawer, etc. I thought that maybe some freak had broken in and planted secret cameras since they didn't take anything. I didn't find anything amiss, so I begrudgingly let it go. Two days after that, so on Saturday afternoon, I'm off work, heading uphill on the road towards my driveway. My son is spending the weekend with his dad, so I have the house to myself that

evening. A wave of relief washes over me as I see that my back door is still closed. Now, I don't know why I decided to do this, but something compelled me to actually inspect the door up close. I needed to also make sure that it wasn't tampered with. To my horror, I discovered that it had. There were pry marks along the edge of the door jamb. I immediately went inside and unlocked the door so I could open it and inspect further. The edge of the door was bent to hell and back on the inside with the doorknob met the jamb. That damage wasn't there two days ago when Aaron installed that new lock. I deduced that someone had probably been using the credit card trick or something similar to easily break into that door since the way it locked was by the knob.

And when they figured out that that would no longer work, they tried to pry it open not knowing that a new lock was on the other side of the door. I'm thankful that lock held. At this point I called the police and made a report. They basically told me that there wasn't much they could do in this instance other than document the incident. They told me to call them if anything else happened. Needless to say, that wasn't satisfactory to me but I didn't know what else to do. I didn't feel comfortable sleeping at home that night so I ended up making the hour drive to my parents house and just crashing there. Nothing else happened for a little while.

By March, I had been able to put February's events behind me and feel secure in my home again. I was working and going about life as usual. At this point, Brian had begun visiting the diner five days a week. Oddly enough, he was there each shift that I worked, and it became a running joke with the other waitresses and in fun they teased me about having a stalker. I would soon find out just how true that actually was, because in April, things got weird. I came home from work one day to find my grass had been mowed. Now I usually pay a neighbor to do it for me since I

didn't have a lawnmower. My yard was small but maintaining it was a requirement for my lease agreement. My neighbor didn't charge much to mow it and he didn't need the extra cash so it was a win-win. I knew I hadn't asked my neighbor to mow recently so I thought that it was strange. I asked him if he went ahead and decided to do it anyway and he said that he hadn't. So then I called my landlord and asked her if she had mowed my grass for some reason. The lease said that if it reaches a certain height then she would mow it and charge me for it. I knew my grass hadn't been high enough to warrant that but it was the only plausible explanation in my head. Of course, she said no. She hadn't mowed the grass, and I was stumped. I then assumed that an anonymous neighbor must

have mowed my grass out of the goodness of their heart. You know, like a pay it forward kind of thing. I mean, what else was I to think? All throughout April and the beginning of May, my grass was being anonymously mowed once per week. I know it sounds strange reading it, but at the time I genuinely thought a neighbor was just doing neighborly things and didn't want to be recognized for it. On May 5th, 2015, Aaron and I decided to take Chris to the zoo. When we got back from the zoo late that afternoon, we discovered that my front door was cracked open. Now, my front door did have a deadbolt, but I must have forgotten to lock it that day. How freaking stupid of me. You can imagine how upset I was due to my back door being tampered

with multiple times back in February. I just didn't understand why this was happening again. Like all the other times, nothing was taken. My belongings seemed untouched. And yes, I was feeling targeted. But I didn't call the police because I felt like I technically had nothing to report. There was nothing stolen or vandalized. Just an open front door. So I let it go.

Two days later, I would discover the depth of things. May 7th, 2015. It was one of my rare days off. I was at home relaxing when the diner called me. I answered thinking maybe my boss wanted me to come into work. It wasn't my boss, but my co-worker, Celia. She stated that someone named Mary had called the diner asking to speak to me. Mary had asked for me by name. Since I wasn't at work that day, Mary left her phone number and requested that I call her as soon as possible. I thanked Celia for relaying the message and ended the call, feeling perplexed. I didn't know who Mary was, but out of curiosity I gave her a call. Mary ended up being Ryan's estranged wife, and I didn't even know that he was, but out of curiosity I gave her a call. Mary ended up being Ryan's estranged wife and I didn't even know that he was married. She informed me that Ryan had a nervous breakdown

while they were arguing earlier. He started raving like a wild man about how my name is a better girlfriend than she is a wife. He told her that we were in love and that he had been taking care of me and my quote-unquote, and this is him saying this, Down syndrome son for months. My son doesn't even have Down syndrome by the way and my son is not mentally impaired. I was incredibly offended by this when I heard this. She initially thought that it was all just crazy talk considering his mental state. He mentioned where I worked. He said that we were going to get married. He said that I had asked him to adopt my son.

He said that he was going to run away with me in order to get away from her. He told her that he had started visiting me after following me home one day. When he said that, Mary knew that something was very wrong. Ryan had somewhat of a history with mental issues and Mary was used to him weaponizing things to hurt her feelings during arguments, even if those things are complete lies. But she said this time was different. She knew he had started frequenting the diner, and red flags went up for her when he admitted to following someone home. So she decided to call the diner and red flags went up for her when he admitted to following someone home. So she decided to call the diner to see if anyone by my name worked there. When Celia confirmed this, Mary perceived the possible danger and she left me her name and number requesting a call back.

My head was spinning at this point. While things were finally starting to make sense, I was still gobsmacked. At one point in the conversation, Mary mentioned my grasping mode. Yes, Ryan even flaunted the yard work that he did for me in her face. It was all very strange and very surreal. Basically, Ryan had been obsessing over me for months. He became delusional and it created a whole relationship between me and him and his mind. It was all in his head. And obviously, he was the one that was breaking into my home when I was gone. Those visits. Why he did it, I still haven't pieced together 100%. He never took anything and I imagined that he was mowing my grass because that was his little

way of taking care of me. Anyway, by the end of the call, I decided to go to the police department in person to file a report about Ryan. I thought at the very least this is harassment and I needed it documented. Maybe I could get a restraining order. Mary offered to provide an official statement to the police as well, to which I thanked her. And the police department took our statements, and the harassment complaint was filed. Although I couldn't get a PO based off of my statement alone, I had no hard proof, the officer did assure me that he would personally go talk to Ryan. I then went straight to the diner to inform my boss,

Chase, of the situation. Now Chase took this very seriously. Just that morning, a third shift waitress actually brought up to Chase how a man came into the diner very early, around 4am. This man was trying to get her to tell him which days that I would be working that week. She told Chase that it made her uncomfortable. So when I told Chase about Ryan, he went back and looked at the cameras from that morning. And sure enough, the man that was bothering the third shift for info about me was Ryan. So Chase initiated the process through corporate to get a permanent ban on Ryan from the diner and it was approved at a later date. I was scheduled to work the following day and I was approved at a later date. I was scheduled to work the following day and I was nervous throughout my entire shift, but thankfully Ryan didn't show up, nor did he show up

the following day or the next day after that. All was quiet at home as well. The officer showed up at Ryan's house to speak with him and it must have spooked him enough to stop. Weeks and then months went by, no Ryan in sight, no vandalism at my home, no mysteriously mown grass, nothing. My life had gone completely back to normal. But things changed again in October. October 5th, 2015. It was around 8pm. My son Chris fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie. I had dozed off as well until I heard a few very light knocks at my front door. I then walked to the kitchen and looked out the only window that faces my driveway. No cars there except my own. So I figured the light tapping that I heard at my door was either

just the TV or my half asleep brain playing tricks on me. I then returned to the couch and started playing a game on my phone. About 5 minutes later I heard a few light knocks on my door again. This time I was wide awake so I knew my brain wasn't playing tricks. So I walked back over to my kitchen window to double check the driveway to see who was there. Again, my car was the only one in the driveway, and right as I go to close the kitchen window blinds, loud knocking suddenly erupts at my front door. I mean loud, angry banging. I guess my instincts kicked in, and I sprinted to the couch. I scooped Chris up into my arms and ran down the hallway to his bedroom. I did the only thing I could think of in that fraction of a moment. He was groggy and confused but he listened

to my instructions of get under your bed, stay under your bed, and don't come out until I tell you. I then ran to my kitchen and grabbed a knife while dialing 911. I actually screamed at the door that I was calling the cops in hopes that it would scare them away. I positioned myself at the end of the hallway which connects my son's room to the living room. This way I'd have a clear view of both the front door in front of me and my son's bedroom door behind me. As the operator picked up my call, the banging on my front door was getting even louder. 911 said that she was dispatching police right away. She instructed me to stay on the line until they arrived. About 12 minutes into the call, the banging got more violent, rattling pictures off the wall even. I thought for sure that they

would break my door down at any moment. 911 asked me where I was located in the home and I told her. She asked me if I could hide somewhere. She told me not to put myself in danger. In that tiny moment I felt enraged. No, I'm not going to hide. I'm not taking my eyes off my son's bedroom under any circumstance. Where are the cops? And besides, I lived in a small trailer and the only hiding place for an adult is my bedroom closet. I'd be easily found. So I just erupted over the phone, saying, look lady, I'm a single mom, I have no man, no gun, and no place to hide. If he breaks this door down, what am I supposed to do? Throw this knife at him? Where are the effing cops? She assured me again that the cops were on their way and stay on

the line. More banging, but this time it moved to the actual side of the trailer, and it sounded like they were taking a baseball bat and beating against the outside of the trailer. At that moment, Chris started shrieking. I ran a few steps over into his room to check on him. The loud commotion had just pushed his fear gauge over the edge. He was screaming, crying incessantly under his bed. I quickly ascertained that he was physically okay and I returned back to the end of the hallway to check on the front door. As I was explaining to 911 that my son was okay, just scared, I noticed that the banging had suddenly stopped. I waited another minute or so, trying to listen out for any sign of further escalation, like a window breaking. All I could hear were sobs coming from my son's room. All in all, it took the cops 23 minutes to

arrive, and by then, their perp had long gone. For reference, I live about ten minutes away from the police station. 911 even called it in as an act of home invasion, and I was livid about the response time. My front door was made out of some type of metal, just a cheap generic trailer door, and it was now covered in dents. There were noticeable scratch marks on the locks, failed attempts at picking the deadbolt. The siding on the trailer was damaged where the perp had hit it with something. Given the history, I immediately suspected Ryan was the perp, and the police said since I didn't actually see the person,

then they couldn't arrest him without an eyewitness. The most they could do was make a report, and they did end up canvassing the immediate area in case that he was on foot, since I didn't see a vehicle in my driveway prior to this happening. However, there was no sign of him or anyone around and about. I deduced that he probably had parked nearby out of sight, that way his vehicle wouldn't be spotted or recognized at my home. My home was situated next to a thin patch of woods that has public access roads on the other side. I also am absolutely convinced that Ryan had nefarious plans for me that evening,

but when he discovered my son was at home with me, via his terrified shrieking, he came to and bailed. He stopped trying to break into my home the moment my son inadvertently made his presence known. For whatever reason, Ryan always lit up when I talked about my son. He used to initiate conversations about Chris just to watch me dote over him. Looking back, I guess it was his morbid way of bonding with my child, and I think in his own warped way he grew to care about him. So when he heard Chris scream, he decided not to follow through with whatever his plan was for me.

I ended up taking a few days off of work because I was so shaken up. I stayed at my parents' house during that time because I was afraid to go home. My landlord had the damaged door replaced while I was gone and realizing that I had a job and a life and that I couldn't stay gone forever, I knew that I had to go home. So I got a gun, a small caliber revolver, but it would do the job and then I went home. I lived in that trailer for another four months before I saved up enough money to move. It was totally peaceful during those months, with no further events or altercations,

but I just couldn't stand being there anymore. Since then, I have changed jobs, met someone special, gotten engaged, bought a house, and got a dog. No further sign of Ryan anywhere during any of these life changes, and it's been nearly seven years since any sign of him. Ryan seems to have disappeared out of my life in the same manner he first appeared, out of nowhere, and I couldn't be happier that he's gone. Hopefully, it stays that way. At At the time of the story, I was 21 and living in a major Midwestern city, attending the university there. Having lived there for only a month before my story began, I had witnessed a train stop stabbing, been yelled at by a crackhead, had a homeless guy follow me and threaten to choke me outside the physics building on campus, and watched a 13 car cop raid on a drug house just across the street.

The area around the university is known for being rough and had a notoriously high rate of crime. We would get a few texts a week from the campus police saying things like there had been a robbery, a break-in, an assault, stalkings, attempted kidnappings, etc. And I always ignored these texts, thinking foolishly that I would never be a victim because I was smart enough to stay out of trouble, not go out alone late at night, all the cliches. I seriously regret this behavior now, and to anyone listening to this, please never think that you're 100% safe, no matter your level of preparedness. Always do your best to stay observant and careful.

The first incident wasn't too unusual. I was just a block or two from my apartment building one day in the early evening. It was still light outside. I was walking my dog Sesame, a cute Shiba Inu who just looks like a fluffy goofy puppy and has never been frightening or particularly protective in his life. As I was heading back home, I passed a small parking lot and in it, a large van. I could see a man in his maybe early 60s sitting in the driver's seat smoking a cigarette. He was staring at me. As I passed, he actually leaned out of his car and called out to me. Hey, you there. It's a cute dog. What's his name? I should mention this isn't even my first story like this. I have a pretty

intense fear of strangers and actually struggle with PTSD from other incidents in my life. Being pretty wary for this reason, I ignored him and just walked faster. I heard a car door shut behind me and turned quickly to see that he had gotten out of his van and was slowly walking towards me. He called out to me again. Hey, baby, I just want to see your dog. Come back. This phrasing made me angry, then I gripped my dog's leash and started to speedwalk away from him, starting to feel nervous. My heart was beginning to pound, but I kept telling myself over and over that I was overreacting.

It was just my paranoia acting up and there was nothing to worry about. But boy was I wrong. I managed to turn the corner and was about to cross the final park before getting to worry about. But boy was I wrong. I managed to turn the corner and was about to cross the final park before getting to my apartment. In my fear over the van guy I wasn't paying attention as much as I usually do to what was in front of me. I looked back over my shoulder and the guy had stopped following me. He was however standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a huge creepy grin on his face. I whirled back around with my eyes glued to my building.

I only needed to walk for another half a block and I'd be home. I was going to get away from him and his creepy van. And just when I thought I was safe, a group of five or six men came from the side of the park that I wasn't watching. They were all tall and intimidating in stature and all of them were laughing and looking right at me. Out of the corner of my eye, the van guy had started walking towards me as well. I remember he was whistling. I again picked up my pace and desperately searched for my keys in my pocket as I hurried to the door.

The group of men then veered towards me, partially cutting me off, and in all my stupid politeness, I stopped. They grinned at me with sick, perverted smiles, obviously checking me out, looking up and down my body, and it made me sick. I tried not to panic and inch closer to my apartment. Hey, what's your name? Where you going? What's your Snapchat? Is that your apartment? Can we come over? Do you smoke? They all barraged me with questions one after another. I tried to refuse them, stammering, No thank you. As I saw the van guy come and join their group, leering at me. While I inched away, they inched closer.

One of them reached out for me, his fingers actually touching my arm. I leapt back trying not to start crying, but Sesame suddenly lunged at them, his teeth barred, a horrifying snarl ripping from his throat. Every bit of cute Shiva personality was was gone and he looked like he wanted to tear one of these guys throats out. It startled them enough that I was able to turn and sprint the final distance to my building, locking the door behind me. I fell to the floor inside my building, hugging sesame. However the entire front of my building was glass and to my horror and disbelief, the

group of men came and stood in front of the windows, grinning at me, laughing and making kissy faces and lewd gestures at me. The apartment manager came out and called the cops on them but they ran away. I made it back home and scrubbed myself in the shower, crying and shaking with fear. Sesame got a special dinner that evening and I kept telling myself that they just wanted to mess with me and I was never in any real danger. Stupid of me, I know now. About a month later when I had finally managed to be able to walk outside of my apartment without severe anxiety, I was actually planning on moving a bit further away from campus.

It was still going to be in a sketchy neighborhood but the thought of those men knowing where I lived kept me up at night. My apartment actually hired a security guard to be there 24-7 after someone had broken into the building, smashed all the windows, destroyed some of the furniture, and stole a bunch of bikes. Of course my bike got stolen. Anyways, I was headed home from class and it was a beautiful day. I actually felt pretty happy for once and popped my earbuds in on the last few blocks before I got home. Silly move. After a block or so I started to feel like someone was watching me.

My palms started sweating. I glanced behind me, trying not to look obvious and a tall man was about 20 feet behind me, starting straight at me. I snapped my head back around and ripped out my earbuds. No, no, no, I thought. It can't be one of them. I was just jumping to conclusions given my anxiety disorder and paranoia, surely, but there was something familiar about him. My heart started racing as I hoped to god the others weren't waiting for me around the corner of my building ready to jump me. I walked faster, wishing Sesame was with me. I was too afraid to look back at him as I fumbled with my keys and wrenched the front door as hard as I could, and this turned out to be a crucial mistake.

As I ran to the elevator, trying to breathe a sigh of relief, I saw with absolute horror that the man had caught the door that I had thrown wide open and was slowly coming into the building with me. He paused, standing away from me but close enough that I could hear his ragged breath and smelling alcohol coming off of him. My heart was thudding in my chest now and I struggled to think clearly. The apartment manager was already home for the day and I was completely alone in the lobby. There were no other doors out of the room and the stranger was blocking my way to the door. The security guard was supposed to be keeping an eye on the building was nowhere to be seen.

The elevator came and I tried running into it and slammed my hand over the door close button as fast as I could. I pushed my floor button and huddled into the far corner of the elevator. I started to once again try to catch my breath but right when the door was almost closed, he stuck his hand in. I couldn't believe it. He waited until the door was just about to close and then he stopped it. He was standing close enough that there was no way that was a mistake. My stomach dropped and a suffocating sense of dread crept in. I kept my head down as he joined me. My desperate hope that he was just a dirty drunken resident of the building was dashed when he didn't press any buttons. I don't know why I didn't run

out of the elevator or try to leave the building again. I was paralyzed with fear and all I could do was watch as the door closed and sealed my fate. The elevator was filled with the stench of alcohol and BO. If I wasn't so terrified I may have gagged. It was nauseating. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't move. I tried to scream at myself in my head to press the wrong button and to try to escape, but I was completely petrified. He leaned closer to me and I heard him breathing deeply and very quietly sigh, like he was content. I felt tears well up in my eyes and the seconds it took to reach the top floor where I lived felt like hours. I saw no way that I could escape the sick drunk guy who was smelling me. In the reflection of the elevator walls it could make out this disgusting smile.

He was staring directly at me, his hands in his pockets, clearly holding onto something. I'm not religious but I prayed that I would make it to my door in time. I realized that he probably wasn't going to attack me in the elevator, there was a large camera in the ceiling. I looked up at it, feeling a tear spill out of my eye as I did so, hoping that whoever saw the tape eventually would identify this man. The worst part of all of this is that I've trained in martial arts and self-defense since I was about 8 years old. I thought of myself as stronger and

braver than I was acting. I should know what to do. I should be strong enough to do it. But no matter how many times I had disarmed, thrown, or choked out attackers in the studio. Nothing totally prepares you for the dread of a real-life situation. As the elevator reached my floor, I managed to snap out of my stupor long enough to dash to the door and run to my apartment unit. I nearly missed the keyhole, but I threw open my door. I was nearly through when my backpack snagged on the outside handle of the door, trapping me. I heard the man walking quickly to my door, a low chuckle building in his throat as he watched me panic and struggle to get free. I felt like a mouse being watched by a cat, trapped and helpless, so close to escaping. I finally gave and shoved my arms to the straps, abandoning my backpack.

As I did so, the man suddenly reached out for me. I was able to slam the door shut, deadbolting it, and the gust of air from the door slamming brought his disgusting smell in with me, and in my terror and disgust I retched violently. I looked through the peephole. He was staring right at me, pressing his forehead against the door, his mouth bent in a furious scowl. He swore at me and ripped my backpack off the handle of the door, slamming it to the ground.

I winced as I heard my laptop thud. I was still too terrified to say anything, but I grabbed the knife that I kept by my door in my hand, ready if he tried anything. After a few minutes of staring at my door, jiggling the handle, licking the peephole, and making obscene motions at it, he unzipped my backpack, dumping its contents on the floor. He picked up my bag, sniffing it and leering at the peephole as he did so, like he knew that I was watching him. I couldn't look away, again paralyzed in fear. Finally he left, using the elevator visible from my door like nothing had happened. I continued to stare out the peephole for what felt like an eternity and then finally

called the apartment manager, feeling my anger sinking in that the security guard hadn't been anywhere in sight, not paying attention. It turned out that he had fallen asleep eating Taco Bell and watching movies on his phone. He was only 10 feet away from the elevator the entire time, sleeping in the office behind a closed door. They fired him, but the creepy guy was never caught, and neither were any of the others. I don't even know for sure if this man was part of the original group. I was honestly too terrified to look much at their faces during the first incident. I moved out of my apartment a week later, staying with my boyfriend at the time for

the remainder of my lease and keeping Sesame with me at all times when possible. A few more things happened while I lived in that city, from having to call in a gunfight from outside my new apartment window, to having to pick up my friend who was being followed by a van, to having to evacuate during an arson incident. There are nice things about that city too, but during my time there, besides learning the police department was absolutely useless and corrupt to nearly escaping with my life multiple times, I couldn't be happier to be far, far away from there, and doing a lot better with my fear and anxiety. Back Back when I was just 6 years old, my family home was subjected to a home invasion that was straight up like something out of a horror movie.

I don't actually remember too much about it, and for that I'm extremely grateful, but my sister is 5 years older than me and remembers enough to still kind of be traumatized by it, and obviously my parents can recall every little detail, so most of what I'm about to tell you comes from their memories, not my own. From what my dad has told me, the home invader didn't break in because he wanted to rob us, he broke in because he was a violent schizophrenic who just wanted to hurt someone. My dad said that he could hear the guy before he actually tried to break in, screaming in our front yard about how he was going to kill our whole family. So by the time he actually smashed one of the front windows and climbed in, my dad was ready for him. It took a few minutes from his arrival to him actually breaking in, and in that time,

my mom gathered up my sister and I then we hid in the hallway bathroom and that's my only real memory of it. One minute I was playing Legos and the next my mom was scooping me up and carrying me to the bathroom. I knew something was wrong just from the way she and my sister were acting, I just didn't know exactly what was going on. My dad says that when he actually faced the guy down, it was horrifying because he saw how huge he actually was. He says the guy was maybe only an inch or two below 7 feet with his big barrel chest and tree trunks for arms. Not only that, but he's holding a snow shovel, presumably what he used to smash out our front window. My mom called the cops as soon as we heard screaming in the front yard, but we later found out the cops accidentally drove past our house while they were looking for the address. This

meant my dad was holding back, expecting them to arrive at any second, but little did he know, he was completely on his own. He said he took a position on the stairs and just waited for the guy to walk into the hallway and spot him. When he did, my dad says the guy just locked eyes with him, then stares him down for a few seconds. My dad starts to give him a warning about how he'll shoot if he gets any closer, but the guy doesn't even let him finish. He just started running for the stairs, right at my dad, and the loaded gun pointed at him. He gave my dad no choice but to open fire, and he opened up with three shots from his 9 mil,

but the way my dad tells it, that was probably the most scared he was all night because the shots from his nine just did absolutely nothing at all. I remember hearing the shots as I hugged my mom and how she kind of whimpered with fear after they rang out. The guy was so off his rocker that he barely even felt the bullets hitting him and just kept yelling stuff as he started swinging at my dad with a shovel. My dad then starts backing up the stairs trying to dodge the guy's swing but he ends up falling backwards on the stairs just as he's trying to take another shot at the guy's head and ends up missing. The guy then gets another good swing on my dad with a shovel and ends up knocking the gun out of his hands. My dad thought that he

was going to try and grab the gun but he must not have noticed that he'd knocked it out of his hands. My dad thought that he was going to try and grab the gun but he must not have noticed that he'd knocked it out of his hands because he just kept swinging at my dad with the shovel. My dad then kicks out at the guy and this throws him off balance a little resulting in him just tumbling down the stairs. The sound is one of the only things I really remember from back then, because I thought it was my dad that might have fallen and that had me just bawling in fear. Meanwhile, my dad said the guy fell down stairs in such a horrible way that he thought that he was dead at first. You gotta keep in mind that my dad started roughly in the center of the stairs, then retreated almost to the top when he got rushed. So, when he kicked out at the psycho guy, he had a long way to fall down before he hit the bottom.

And when he did, my dad said that he just laid there, completely still, and didn't even look like he was breathing. First thing my dad does is retrieve his gun from the stair it was lying on, but obviously it's lying on, but obviously it's lying about two thirds of the way down the stairs so as he's taking slow careful steps down them he's got his eye on the unconscious psycho just waiting for him to open his eyes and start rushing him again. Luckily that didn't happen, my dad was able to retrieve his gun before keeping it trained on the guy until the cops finally showed up.

The guy was just out for the count, and he didn't wake up again until he was cuffed to an ambulance stretcher with the cops riding along with him. This next part is the thing that still really creeps me out, even all these years later. From what I understood, my dad spent an awful lot of time dealing with these same two cops who were investigating the break-in. He said they were totally on his side from the get-go and super helpful when it came down to keeping him up to date with all the home invaders' charges and hearings and stuff. They told my dad the guy's name, which was Richard something, and told them that he was

from the next town over, which is like a three hours drive away. They knew what his job had been, all of his criminal history, but when it came to the motive they had no idea why the guy had targeted my dad since he'd never met the guy before in his life. At one point the cops told my dad that they only knew one thing about the guy's state of mind when he decided to break into our house. They said that while the guy was cuffed to the stretcher on the way to the hospital, he came too. He was obviously woozy and was barely getting any sense, but the cop riding with him starts asking him all these questions, have to get some info out of him, and have to just keep him awake. Keeping in mind that

he's lost a fair bit of blood from the gunshot wounds, and he was in such a bad way that the cops didn't think that he was going to survive his stay at the hospital. Only, he does. The guy somehow pulls through, gets transferred to a jail hospital, and he's subject to a full psych evaluation when he's well enough to talk. One of the questions that he was asked was why he brought a shovel along with him while breaking into our house. I heard the goal of the question is to get the guy to prove intent, to get him to admit to wanting to do harm, not just that he happened to be digging a ditch at the time of the attack or whatever. But he goes a bunch of layers deeper

and replies with something like, I wanted to be able to bury them after I killed them. The guy didn't even really want to hurt anyone, but he somehow got into his head that the voices would stop if he sacrificed something to them, something along those lines anyway, like a blood tribute. And we just happened to be the unlucky family that he picked that night, as he wandered through our neighborhood after having wandered like over a hundred miles or so from his home. Like I said earlier, Guy turned out to be a complete fruit loop with multiple personality disorders, but primarily, it was the paranoid schizophrenia that actually

pushed him over the edge into violence. He's still interred at some psych hospital out of state, I think, and the cops have to let us know if he ever gets conditionally released. But for now, I don't think we're going to just run into the guy at the HEB anytime soon. Honestly, I'm glad I was too young to really remember what happened. It's still the scariest event of my childhood by far, but I didn't end up having to go to therapy like my older sister did. She couldn't sleep properly for weeks after the break-in and kept having nightmares about strangers breaking into our house and murdering us in our beds. Dad became a total

home defense nut after that whole thing too, which, like my sister and her nightmares, is understandable. I just think it's sad that one little night almost 25 years ago changed our whole family for the worse. Mom and dad got the bullet holes in the hallway patched up, they installed cameras, they bought more guns and bear spray and all sorts of other stuff, but I don't think it changed the fact that they're still scared. I don't think they feel any safer, they'll just be more prepared if something like that happens again.

And I pray every day that none of us ever have to go through something that traumatic ever again. So I live in a compound and we have a gym in the community. I used to go at 2am six times a week. One day this guy walks in and starts working out and at the end of my session, he says if I needed any gym advice that I should ask him. What was weird is he's really skinny while you can tell I've been gyming for a pretty long time. I didn't think much of it until a few days later and he appears again at the same time. For a whole year I've never seen him come at this time and he starts talking to me

during my workout and we exchange Instagram accounts. I didn't think much of it at all, maybe he recently moved into this compound and wants to meet people. Same day, he messaged me saying, I see some good chest progress, to which I replied thank you and that I appreciate it, and also didn't think much of it. For the next three weeks he would try to initiate outings and gymming together, which I wasn't interested in, so I avoided him and changed my gym time because I changed my sleep schedule. It was just kind of coincidental. Once again, I went to the gym at 9pm and he was already there,

and I was kind of forced to have a conversation with him afterwards for like 10 minutes, and he said let's go for coffee which I declined saying my friends are waiting for me online and I could see a disappointed look on his face. A few days later he was driving into the compound and saw me walking back home so he honks the car and initiates another conversation right outside my house. He talked about his uni work and how busy he is as I cut the conversation, saying that it was too humid so I'm going inside. The next day, he walks into the gym a few seconds after I did and we were chatting about random stuff. One of them being how I was buying these LED lights on

Amazon and slowly, he started talking about praying and religion and what I think about it and whether I pray. I said I do have a relationship with God and that I pray in my own way, and he kept repeating some of my sentences, sighing right after, and it was so weird. So I put my earphones on and said that I'll listen to music and I could tell that he was doing random workouts as if to wait for me to be done. He catches up to me as I'm leaving, and started talking about the car parked out of my house, and how I should see his car one day, which I agreed to. Literally right the next day, he calls me three times, which I don't pick up until the next day,

where he called and I picked up in case I see him at the gym. I was preparing to go. I told him I was busy the day before and he said, It's okay. I just wanted to tell you I left you some LED lights on your car. I couldn't relax until I made sure I gave them to you. To which I replied that you don't have to. I don't want them as he kept insisting and saying it's nothing.

Everything that has happened before this moment seemed weird, but not creepy. During the phone call, I felt so uneasy that I almost just hung up and blocked his phone number as he was becoming really obsessive is all I can really describe it as. He said, what are you up to? To which I replied, not much. I might go to the gym later, but I was planning to go now. I just didn't want him to follow. To which he replied, oh cool, I'm doing some studying and researching some stuff. So I said alright man, enjoy, and hung up. I went around my whole house, making sure all doors and windows are completely shut and locked, and headed to the gym. And bam, he was there. We said hi to each other and I put my earphones on and completely avoided him until I finished. He followed and said hey you want to see my car now?

Which I said sure. I know I shouldn't have but I did. The whole building is covered with 24-7 surveillance so I went and saw his car in the basement floor. And as we got to it, he looked back at a guy that had just arrived there in this sort of bothered look. So he looked back at me and said, well, this is my car. I said, okay, cool, as I started stepping away. And he starts talking about his bike and how he wrecked it. It was next to the car, as if to get me back closer to the car. So I said, all right alright well, I'll see you. Just as he said, wait, let me walk you home. To which I refused as he gave me another weird look. I forgot to mention this guy's

presence on Instagram is just super weird. He just posts about cars and selfies from up to a year ago and nothing about him before then. No name, no age. He told me that he was 18 and I'm 22. I have no idea how to act. Do I block this person and tell him I don't want to communicate with him? Do I stay in contact with him to make sure that they don't pull some weird stuff since they know where I live? Do I call the authorities? I'm sitting at home feeling like I'm being watched right now. Any advice would really help. My story takes place when I was 15 years old. A lot of people would have considered 15 year old me conventionally very pretty.

I had long dark brown straight hair, freckles, tan skin, and bright blue eyes. This day, my mom and I are in Dillard's looking for a particular type of shirt that I needed for school. Lucky me, I went to a public school that required uniforms and our school colors were very common so a lot of the more affordable stores had been picked clean. I would consider Dillard's to attract a certain type of customer most of the time, mostly little old ladies that smell like powder. But I guess creeps can be anywhere. My mom and I are going from rack to rack trying to find school shirts when I notice a man nearby. I glance up at him and he was staring at me, smiling. He was probably in his mid-thirties, very tan with shiny black

hair. I looked away and continued searching for clothes. I guess my mom had noticed him too, because I could feel that she was tense standing next to me. We calmly walked to a rack further away to see if he would follow, and he did. He kept a little distance, but his eyes stayed locked on me and he continued smiling. He must have watched and followed us for at least 20 minutes. My mom tested him again and we continued to another rack once more and he followed. This time he came up directly to us and spoke to my mom. Is that your daughter? My mom coldly told him yes. She's very beautiful. A princess.

Mama gave him a sharp, Thank you, and went to pull me away. He reached for me and shouted, I'd like to buy her. I'd like to buy your gorgeous daughter. I'll take her with me and give her everything she ever wanted. All while still trying to grab my arm. I kept taking steps backwards, but he continued advancing towards me staring into my eyes, still talking about making me a princess at his palace.

It was all happening so fast. Suddenly, mama bear mode kicked in and like lightning, she pulled me behind her to get between me and the man. She pretty much chest bumped him backwards, and through gritted teeth she hissed at him that if he valued his life, he'd leave the store, get in his car and drive away. He tried to protest once, but my mom roared leave, and his eyes got huge and he fell into a rack of khaki pants trying to get away. We immediately left the store and in the safety of the car, my mama broke down in tears. I don't remember even being afraid while everything was happening. I was ready to put up the fight of my life, but looking at the tears on my mom's face made me realize exactly how dangerous that situation was. When I was in fifth grade, I met Caitlin.

I would stay over at her house constantly. Her mom was a drunk, that's a whole other story, and her dad locked himself away in a room to smoke and watch TV all the time. She has a sister who didn't come out of her room either. Her parents had a friend, we'll call him Keith, who would come over after the bars closed and leave before the morning. At night, we would be in her room playing or sleeping, and Keith would come in and immediately, Caitlin would get up and tell me that she'd be right back. Caitlin would always get Keith to leave her room with her and they would go watch a movie or show

on the couch. I was always so jealous that she got to watch movies late at night so sometimes I would come out to the living room to join them. She would always make it a point to leave room on the other side of her for me to sit. Over the years we grew apart honestly and I didn't think much of it. I was young and didn't understand what was going on or I blocked it out. In high school she started getting into some pretty rough stuff and I saw marks on her wrist. When I confronted her to talk about it, she spilled what was really happening during those movies. This happened from second grade to seventh. Once she told me, the memories all came back. She saved me and I had no idea. I could have helped and instead, she wanted to protect me. I wish I had a beautiful ending,

but she ended up telling her parents and all they did was kick him out of their life and beat him up. Her parents became sober when she got into drugs. She became a dancer and an escort. She got married and had children, but apparently still uses. I got a life that I am proud of because she let me. I always feel this sense of guilt, but I promised to do good for her. She gave up her life and innocence so I could live unharmed. To be continued... one night with some friends. I wasn't drunk or on any hard drugs but I definitely smoked a blunt or two. Around 3am we went our separate ways and I got off the train and began walking home. I had to take a longer route home that night because some train lines were under maintenance.

When I got off the train I realized that I had walked past the cemetery and started to feel uneasy but I wasn't afraid for any real reason. About ten blocks and I'm home. I always saw trucks lined up on the cemetery blocks and being that it was a desolate area, I assumed truckers would park their trucks by the cemetery to take naps or sleep before continuing their routes. Back then I thought nothing of it. A few minutes after getting off the train I heard a faint sound of what I guess was a car or truck door being shut behind me I turned around and saw nothing I scanned my surroundings once quickly and didn't see one other person ahead or behind me for as

far as I could see I keep walking this time a bit faster and about a minute later I hear footsteps behind me. I turned so quick and saw a man walking fast a few feet behind me. When he saw me turn he began catcalling me by making these weird kissing noises. I was used to these catcalls, especially living in NYC. By my house there used to be a line of men on the corner every morning waiting to be picked up for construction work and every time I passed them to go to the store I would get catcalled and harassed. So I ignored him and kept walking but definitely faster this time. A few seconds later he was running to catch up with me and he was now at my side speaking to

me in Spanish which I don't speak. He grabbed my arm tightly and began pulling me toward him when I started screaming and fighting him off. He pushed me up against the cemetery fence and in the midst of this, my heart sunk to the floor as I thought that things were about to get real bad. Seconds later, he had me off my feet by both arms, and his face turned white in the moonlight, a face of pure horror as he looked past me into the cemetery, fixated on something. He just let out a blood-curdling scream and let me go. As I dropped to the floor, he was already across the street and running out of sight. I was choking on tears, shaking and just beside myself. I picked myself up and ran so fast the last few blocks to my house.

I didn't turn to look inside that cemetery once. I didn't turn around at all. I didn't stop until I was home. I never took that train or walked past that cemetery again and to be honest, I never told my parents and only told a handful of friends over the years because to this day, I still don't understand what happened, but something saved my life. I was followed today, and I honestly can say that I don't think I've ever had something scare me so bad. I live on a military base in Europe, and two days ago I found out that I was pregnant and had to go get a blood test to confirm when I walked into the waiting room. There was a man

that made eye contact with me that I assumed was waiting on another patient. I waited for about 10 minutes and the man kept getting up to get magazines from a coffee table right in front of me. He came over like 5 times in 10 minutes. I go to get my blood tests, I'm excited and I decided to go get some celebratory tea and a breakfast sandwich at a place about 10 minutes down the road, still on base. When I'm standing in line, I notice the same man walk into the establishment and look around like he's looking for someone. He spots me and makes a beeline straight to me and stands in line behind me. I'm feeling nervous now. I order my food and sit at a table quickly because I don't want him to follow me to my car. He gets his food and sit at a table quickly because I don't want him to follow me to my car. He gets his food and sits at a table directly in front of me and keeps trying to

catch my eye and smile. After about five minutes he then gets up and sits at my table and I ask him, what are you doing? And he looks at me and says, how far along are you? Women like you always smell like milk so early in pregnancy. I yelled. I immediately yelled telling him to get the F away from me and security came and removed him and he tried telling security that I was his wife and I had memory issues. I explained what happened to security and the guard walked me to my car so I could go home without him following me. I told my husband when I got back home and we sit cars just for extra safety in case the man went looking for my vehicle. Please people, be safe out here. People are ridiculous. Hey friends, thanks for listening. Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7pm EST. 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.