The Lets Read Podcast - 216: MY CREEPY NEIGHBORS BROKE IN | 25 True Scary Stories | EP 204

Episode Date: December 5, 2023

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Crazy Coworkers, Stalkers, & Creepy Neighbors... 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/LetsRead ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: INEKT https://www.instagram.com/_inekt/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS & Bonus Content!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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wasn't looking for anything serious. I figured that I'd give Tinder a shot. It didn't take long for me to get a few matches. I chose the hottest one and we agreed to meet a week later. The date went so well that we decided to do it again and this became a regular thing until the fourth date. It was beginning to look as if it may grow into something more in spite of my original intentions. As the fourth date wrapped up, I invited her back to my place for a drink.

She agreed and things soon got hot and heavy as they say. We were mere seconds away from taking things all the way when she broke down. I was confused. I'm not an aggressive partner and her behavior up to that point had been very receptive. I asked what was wrong and she said that she had been assaulted by a previous boyfriend. It had been several years since she thought that she had moved past it. I felt bad for her, yet still kind of frustrated, and she got up and dressed quickly. I'll admit it was,

like I said, frustrating, but there was little I could do, and I understood where she was coming from. I called her an Uber and she left me with a difficult decision to make. After a long, sleepless night, I decided to just kind of end things there. Some of you reading this may call me cruel but I couldn't really see another option. Things appeared to just be at an impasse, you know? I wasn't going to wait around until she determined that she was ready and I sure wasn't going to pressure her into anything obviously. I told myself that it was for the best. I'd never wanted to jump right into another relationship so quickly. That wouldn't benefit either of us and I broke things off as kindly

as I could. That night never came up. I stress how I'd felt I'd rushed into things too quickly and naturally she was a bit upset but gave no indication of actually being angry. I wished her a happy future and just bid her a goodbye. And normally, that's where it would have ended. I took a month off from dating and Tinder and all that, and when I came back, I matched with a beautiful graduate student just looking to have a good time. This was more of what I was looking for. We met for drinks and hit it off. I went home happy with a spring in my step and a gleam in my eyes, they say. And maybe two days passed when I got a call from a neighbor.

He informed me that there were leaflets posted all around our neighborhood, calling me an attempted predator. I thought this was his idea of some sick joke and definitely not a good one. I laughed, but he assured me that this wasn't a laughing matter. I demanded proof and a few minutes later he came to my door with a bright yellow piece of paper and acclaimed the following. On the night of Friday, November 19th, 2021, I was invited on a dinner date with Mr. My Name. After being plied with many glasses of wine, I was pressured into joining him at his home. Although I was clearly unable to consent, Mr. My Name attempted to coax me into

his bed. When I refused his advances, he became enraged and threw me onto the street in the middle of the night. Please make sure all your female friends are made aware of the danger they may face by dating this manipulative monster. I can't begin to describe the anger that I felt in that moment. It was made worse when the neighbor asked me if it was true. Of course it wasn't, but when someone asks that type of question, it's a good indication that they believe it. Rather than strangle him, I did my best to assure him it was not. And his reception was less than convincing, but I had more pressing problems at that second. I had to get all those flyers, or whatever you call them, before any more impressionable

idiot saw them. I spent most of the day pulling them from light poles and bulletin boards all over town. I'm still not sure if I got them all and I counted over 200 when all was said and done. Then, out of nowhere, I discovered that I had been banned from Tinder after someone filed a complaint against me. My life felt like it was spiraling out of control and I was desperate to stop it any way I could. What came next was probably the biggest mistake I'd made during this entire ordeal. I worked myself into such a muddle I did the one thing I shouldn't have. I contacted her via text message to confront her.

She promised to retract her claims if I agreed to meet her face to face. And I took the bait like a sucker and drove to her house. We sat down at her kitchen table where she explained how hurt she felt. I wasn't interested in hearing any of it, but I was willing to suffer to save my good name. While she did so, she kept a glass of wine close at hand. She had clearly been drinking even before I arrived. After an hour, everything appeared to be handled. As I prepared to leave, she began coming on to me, and I mean in a very obvious manner, and I almost gave in, but then I remembered our previous problem and I shut her down. She was not pleased. She hissed and walked off toward the kitchen.

I figured that she was getting some more wine, and it seemed like a great time to sneak away. I was putting on my jacket when a crash came from the kitchen. I hurried in to see what the matter was and was met by a shrill screeching. She rushed towards me with a stem of a broken wine glass and stabbed me with it. She retracted the jagged stem from the wound and snarled like some freaking animal. I was in shock and I froze for a brief moment, unsure of how to react. Then she lunged at me again, just missing, and I took off. She pursued me out to my car and pounded on it as I sped off, and I just drove straight to the hospital

calling 911 as I drove. I informed the dispatcher which hospital I could be found at if the police needed to speak to me, and sure enough, an officer arrived as I was being treated for my injury. Luckily for me, she hadn't hit any major arteries or organs or anything like that, and the cop let me know that my assailant had been arrested, but what came next was a complete surprise. I was shocked to learn that she had a previous conviction for stalking and assault, and I surmised that it was a similar situation. Monday came around and despite what I had hoped, my attacker was given bail. She paid and was out in time for dinner. I was furious and gave the assistant DA a piece of my mind

and while I waited for the trial day to arrive, I remained in a constant state of fear. I could swear that I saw her once or twice over that period, but I was in such a fragile state that it was possibly my imagination. She became all I thought about. My work suffered. Even in my dreams she often took center stage. She refused several plea deals and insisted the jury would acquit her. I know it was all a stall tactic and she was assembling all the elements that she would need

to what I thought would be to disappear. And the first rumblings began during jury selection. that she would need, to what I thought, would be to disappear. And the first rumblings began during jury selection. She had not been present for the procedure, although she wasn't required to be, it didn't bode well. Then when the trial began in earnest, her lawyer was finally forced to admit that he had lost contact with his client several weeks prior. Now today is October 28th as I write this and she's been missing almost two months. I sit around wondering what my future may hold. Hopefully she's done the wise thing and

is currently laying low halfway around the world or something. On the surface that appears to be the case. If for some reason I'm not totally convinced. My former love interest is a highly successful and intelligent woman. It's largely what drew her to me from the beginning. I have a creeping suspicion that she may be focusing her vast resources into getting back at me. Whatever form that may take, I'm not really sure. Naturally, I fear she'll go the conventional route and just end my life, likely by her own hand, maybe another stabbing. However, she is more than capable to go even further and extend my suffering indefinitely, and this is why I'm going to all the trouble to post my side of the story.

I'm well aware I've probably come off as a jerk in some circumstances, but I don't care. I just want a record of the truth to be available publicly should I disappear. My lawyer also has a copy in case I'm no longer around to testify on my own behalf. It's doubtless that law enforcement will eventually catch up with her at some point. I'm concerned it will be too late for me though. So if you learn of the death or disappearance of some unknown New York State attorney through the media, please remember what you read here. I was a very different person then. I was what people call a nice guy. I'm sure I even used that phrase a few times to reference myself and I really meant

it. I wasn't one of these incel women haters though. I genuinely crave to be loved. I still do but I've since learned the right way to pursue it. My desire for love probably comes from being given up for adoption at a young age. Growing up knowing that you weren't wanted has a drastic effect on a kid. I was fortunate to be adopted by a very loving couple, but the seeds of suffering had already been planted and well watered, as they say. School went relatively well for me until high school. I made the mistake of falling in love with a friend. It was the first of many instances of being friend-zoned and only reinforced my inferiority complex. After four loveless years of college, I found myself at a crossroads. Would I give up or continue on with the hope that I'd strike it lucky? I chose to go on. It was the simpler

of the two and I took a job doing IT at a small mortgage lender. My time off was spent online losing myself in some deluded fantasies. There wasn't much to live for honestly. And then I met Bethany, a new hire and sole focus for the next three years. I can't begin to describe her beauty. Her smile lit up every room and she had my heart instantly. I was scared to approach her at first, but I was happy I did. She was the first female I could recall that didn't look at me with some feeling of disdain. Hope began to rekindle in my chest. Could we have a future together? I had to know that answer, no matter the cost, and she was just that special to me. I felt her out at first, it had to be done, you know. There was too much to lose,

and my jokes always made her laugh. Over time she began giving me the impression that she may be open to going out. I resolved to bring up the subject the next time we worked together. While I waited I prepared myself for rejection. Then the day came and she accepted my invitation to dinner. I couldn't believe it was really happening. After all the years of rejection and loneliness, I was going on a date. And when the day came, I was just a ball of nerves. I'd never been on a date and didn't know what to expect. Other than tips that I found on YouTube, I was in the dark. We met each other just after 7pm at her favorite restaurant, and she was beautiful as always. In retrospect, I may have been underdressed, but I didn't know anyone who owned a suit.

I had to wear what I had. I gave her the rose that I had purchased, and she thanked me with a little peck on the cheek. And so far everything was going great. We were seated in a quiet little corner, our drink orders were taken and we talked while we looked over the menu. Once our food was ordered we were free to focus more on getting to know each other. I found out that she had attended college near my hometown and lived just blocks from me at the time. Gradually, the conversation moved on to past relationships, and this proved a problematic subject for me. The look of concern on her face when I said that I've never had a girlfriend bothered me, but I was able to shift the subject away to one that I was more well-versed in.

The remainder of the evening went well from my perspective. The food was amazing and Bethany was in stitches for most of the date. The end was the most distressing for me. I had always heard that the future of a relationship was made at the end of the first date and I wanted everything to go well. I almost waited too long to try for the kiss but I managed to not screw it up. My first kiss at 26. Would have rather had it happen when I was younger but better late than never I guess. If I would have died right then I would have died happy and content. I couldn't imagine anything going wrong in that moment and certainly not as badly as it did. Monday arrived and the reception I received was very different.

She was acting as if though I was invisible, not as much as a good morning or anything, and the smile had disappeared, and naturally I was at a loss. I thought about it over lunch and came to the conclusion that she was trying to maintain an air of professionalism during work hours and it made sense. So I waited until we were all leaving before approaching her. I calmly walked alongside her and put my arm around her waist. She reflexively jumped back and turned around. Her expression made my blood run cold. I apologized for surprising her and asked her how her day had been. She remained cold toward me and said very little. A girl we

worked with was standing nearby. I figured that she didn't want her to spread out her business to the other employees so I let her go. I could contact her later when no one else was around and I still had no clue what was to come. A few hours later, I sent her a short text message reiterating how much I enjoyed our date and how I looked forward to our next. It was a few hours before she got back to me and the reply was not what I expected. She said my name and then said, I never intended to give you the impression that I was looking for a permanent relationship. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed our date, but you have a lot of things

to experience before tying yourself to one person. You're a great guy, I just don't think that we're right for each other. I hope this doesn't mean we can't still be friends. I was gutted. I really thought that I'd done everything right. I should have known a woman so amazing wouldn't want to be with a virgin loser like me. And these were all the thoughts that I'd had before, however, something was different this time. I'd had a taste of the life everyone else has and I wasn't ready to give it up. I began watching Bethany from afar and decided that I wasn't going to give up so easily. I became convinced that that was what doomed me in the past. I looked for any chance that I could to get to be near her. It took some time, but she eventually became accustomed to my presence again,

and she was laughing at my jokes like the old days, and her wonderful smile made a mighty resurgence. Each day I became more confident in my plan. It was far from time to act yet though. I had to be 100% perfect this time. I think up until my next move I was thinking and acting in a way most people would see as normal. Unfortunately, I found myself alone with my thoughts for far too long and fell off the cliff. Things were going so well at work but there seemed to be so much more to achieve

before I was ready. It was only very occasionally in the beginning, but with nothing to occupy me back at home, I found myself watching her house more often. Ultimately, come rain or shine, I was there. I didn't start out with any real idea of what I was doing. It was simply a way to feel closer to the woman I loved. The rare stolen glimpses of her through a window were all I needed. And soon though, I cobbled together a strategy in which I would win Bethany's heart forever. The months passed slowly. I would come to learn everything about her, every habit and routine, and this would all be useful information in the future. In the quiet moments, which there were a lot of, I pored over books on dating and relationships, assertiveness and manhood.

Every bit I put to use in my daily life, work and play. Not all proved useful, but every instance was a great learning experience. In a lot of ways, this time made me a better man. Had I been endeavoring on the path of a noble goal, I may have achieved great things. As you may have expected, the time came when watching from afar wasn't enough. If I was to truly attain the knowledge that I was to need, I would have to get closer. I snuck into her backyard one evening while she was out and drilled a small hole into the wall of the home. Less than the width of a quarter and I was now able to slip a tiny camera into the treasured confines of her bedroom. Of all the bad decisions I made up to that point, this was the most destructive to my mental health.

I was able to witness things that I had no business witnessing. It was now that grip on reality truly beginning to slip. While drilling the hole, I discovered a patch of forest nestled conveniently behind her house and set up in an observation point. When the weather was nice, I'd take advantage of the heavy cover available and monitor activities from a far less obvious position. A particular benefit was the better wireless signal. I was now able to see every motion of my love in real time, and after recording the footage, I could relive the moments over and over. I'd heard talk of Bethany dating early on, but consoled myself with the assurance those men were merely passing through our life. Once her and I were together, that would all be forgotten.

The true test of my resolve was the first time that she brought a man home. Sitting far away in my car, I was unable to see what was going on inside. This was the impetus of putting a camera in her bedroom. Some sick and masochistic side of me wanted to see. When I finally did, I was at the same time disgusted and titillated. Each time it would happen, I watched with rapt fascination. Over time, I would become her partner, exploring and caressing every inch of her beautiful body. Each time it ended, I was left with an overwhelming amount of

shame. Yet soon enough I would find myself eagerly anticipating the next opportunity. The repeated debasement and humiliation was destroying me without me even realizing it. Now that I knew so much about her, my view of Bethany had decayed into one of obsession and disdain. I began to distance myself from her during work hours. Someone I had once looked upon as a creature akin to a deity now disgusted me, but I had gone so far into the depths of depravity I was unable to turn back. I've already taken up so much of your time, and I'll just jump ahead to the point at which the entire house of cards collapsed.

I had been indulging in my demented voyeurism for over a year when Bethany began dating Corey. He was a programmer at a nearby developer who was everything I was not. Tall, handsome, and successful. I initially disregarded him as I had all the others. However, something began to change. A routine fling became an actual relationship. There were many nights Bethany would spend with him. I was left alone to brood and stew in my bitterness. When the couple spent nights at Bethany's, I would cry as I listened to the tender way at which they spoke to each other. It should have been me, laying there with her, discussing our

hopes and dreams as we tenderly caressed our naked bodies. My obsession with Bethany had long since consumed every waking moment of my existence. My work suffered, and my one strong connection with my family had disappeared. Holidays were nothing more than inconvenient distractions. I often slept in the same clothes for days on end and my hygiene suffered so badly no one wanted to get near me. And this did nothing but confirm my ill view of society. My health was probably the worst aspect of my life. The little I did eat was greedily consumed by my body for energy.

If I recall right I weighed almost 135 pounds when I was arrested. Terrifying when you consider that I'm almost 6'2". When the day finally came, I had already placed an additional three cameras into Bethany's house. During a week-long vacation in Bermuda with Corey, I used this time to install them. Getting in was simple. The time alone gave me the opportunity to place them in an almost invisible position. While inside, I took a few keepsakes and even a short nap in her bed. The smell of her shampoo emanating from her pillowcase was heavenly. I sobbed uncontrollably as I held it close to me, and I must have sensed my time with her was coming to a close. Whether I ended it myself or

was discovered, things had to wind down eventually. Now we come to the finale. I'd been napping in my car a block away. It was a quiet and laid back Saturday afternoon, not much was happening in the house. As he often did, Corey arrived and went inside. Bethany greeted him in the foyer and they briefly kissed. I had long grown used to seeing this and no longer bristled at the act. Suddenly, Corey dropped down to one knee. I shot upright in my seat and stared at the screen intently. I considered the possibility that he was kneeling to tie a shoe or something of the like, but deep down, I knew what it meant. And so did Bethany. Her hand shot to her mouth in surprise. The cameras were so clear that

I could see the tears pouring down her cheeks. Corey pulled a box from his pocket and opened it, and inside, a large diamond sparkled brilliantly. The words, will you marry me? Be my wife for as long as we both shall live. My nerves were on a knife's edge. I watched, dreading her answer. I held onto a ray of hope. They hadn't known each other that long, really. What, a year and a half? It wasn't possibly long enough to get to know someone. I had been an addict for far longer. No man could possibly know or love Bethany as much as me, and she would find that out. Only if she... She said yes. She said God yes.

And the words smashed into me like a battering ram. My breath was knocked from my body and my heart pounded loudly in my ears. The anger and hatred boiled and boiled until I blew. I was halfway to the door before I even realized it. I blasted through the door and pounced upon Corey before he had any hope of grasping the situation. My hands wrapped around his throat like steel clamps growing ever tighter by the second. Unintelligible curses escaped my mouth along with voluminous amounts of spit and blood. The copper taste filled my mouth as I clenched my jaws. My vision began darkening at the edges. I assume this is what

people mean by tunnel vision. I recall the brutal pleasure that I felt feeling the muscles of his neck give way. His face briskly morphed from a bright red into a blue and soon a darkening purple. Then something I can only describe as miraculous occurred. Through the cacophonous roaring in my head, a loud sobbing and begging managed to break through. Briefly I thought that it may have been me making the sound but felt no tears on my cheeks. I tried to block it out but something inside me demanded I listen. I gave in and quickly realized what it was. Please stop. Why are you doing this? Please stop, I love you. Please stop. Don't do this. Like a snap of the fingers, the spell was broken. I released my hands and looked toward her.

Her face, always pale and perfect, was now bright red and swollen. Her cheeks were soaked with tears and even in that moment her eyes gushed with scores more. In the clarity of the moment, I realized I had committed the one sin I'd never fathomed possible. I had brought fear and anguish upon the only human that mattered to me. If I truly felt the way I had always told myself, why was I here and what was I doing? A wave of shame washed over me. I brought my hands up to ponder upon them, and I looked down at Corey, the victim of my twisted obsession. The man I believed I had killed because of it. I glanced back at Bethany. Her eyes emanated a

deep sense of loss and emptiness. I had never wanted this and now everything I ever thought I wanted was beyond my grasp forever. I fled the house with every intention of taking my own life. In reality, it had never been of any real value anyway. While I decided in which way I was going to die, I drove around town aimlessly. Eventually, I chose to walk off into the ocean and drown. I was just blocks from the ocean so it would soon be over and the world would be better off without another nutjob like me on it. Perhaps for the better, depending on how you view it, I had taken so long trying to decide that the police were able to catch up with me and I gave up without a fight and was taken to jail. From here, there's not really much to say. I was offered a plea and

took it. Corey did survive the attack and was able to make a full recovery. I have offered to pay for any counseling he may require in the future but he declined the offer through his lawyer. That's probably the best result. I imagine we all just want to get along with our lives and attempt to forget. And for the last four years I was in prison for all types of offenders. I don't set myself apart or above them. We all have our excuses for our crimes, but in truth, none of us are any different. I believe it's only the life we live after we leave that really matters. I'm currently staying in a halfway house as I write this and I hope I'll be able to get my own place once I'm

allowed to. Fortunately, I've been able to get my own place once I'm allowed to. Fortunately, I've been able to reconnect with a few folks from my past and am able to get a decent amount of work. It keeps me busy in my mind off of less important subjects. For the present, I have no plans to seek out any relationships. Although I have learned a great amount of how to deal with the ups and downs of dating, it may be for the best if I remain single for the foreseeable future. No man can ever know what he's capable of until he finds himself in a certain situation. When it comes to love and rejection, I'm well aware of what I can do and it terrifies me beyond anything you could ever imagine.

I was 23 at the time, so it had to have been around 2015. I'd just taken my first post-college job in a new town. Just days after moving in, I found this nice little coffee shop that reminded me of home. It became a daily stop. On my days off, I would spend most of my mornings getting wired while roaming the internet. All was well, until the morning I arrived at the coffee shop and the door was locked. On the glass was a note stating that they were out of business. It was just a sudden shock and obviously a major disappointment. I had to get some awful coffee from a nearby gas station at that point and as I rode to work that morning, I choked down the sewer water and searched my phone for a new caffeine supplier. I was happy to see that there was another shop even closer to my apartment and

I resolved to check it out the following day. I rose the next morning, groggy but eager, and when I arrived, it was everything I'd hoped for and more. The environment was homey and comfortable. Newspapers were free to read and bookshelves lined the walls. Filled with plush couches and chairs, not like the uncomfortable metal things that they had in a lot of places. There was no loud music playing and the customers spoke quietly, and I fell in love with the place almost immediately. I was concerned that they may have some trouble recreating my favorite drink, but they made a better version than any I'd ever had before. I'd found my new home. Things went

great for the first year, until a young man was hired that would ruin everything. We were well into 2017 when a new face popped up behind the counter. I'll call him Steve here. The cafe had become a second home to me and everyone knew me by name. On his first day I introduced myself and let him know that he'd be seeing a lot of me around. I suppose this may have given him the wrong idea but in the moment I was being nice like I am to everyone new I meet. I noticed Steve on the days he'd worked and say hi along with everyone else working. I'd thank him anytime he helped me and made sure to leave a tip as often as possible. I'm not sure when it first occurred, but he must have thought that I was flirting. He began giving off some very clear signs that he was interested in me.

About a month passed when he asked for my number. I tried to let him down easy, but I could see the disappointment in his face. And in in retrospect I shouldn't have made light of the situation. I guess this gave him the idea that I wasn't really serious. I heard later that he told another employee that I was playing hard to get and I just laughed it off even though I probably shouldn't have and things spun out of control quick after that. The Steve thing faded into the back of my mind. A week passed and I got a text from a number I didn't recognize. I made the mistake of replying and the sender turned out to actually be Steve. I asked how he got my number.

He was evasive and tried to change the subject. I was so nervous and I just let it go. He repeated his crazy theory that I had been playing hard to get. I was getting frustrated and fed up with his BS. I made it crystal clear that I had no interest in him and asked that he lose my number quick. He didn't reply after that. He was working the next morning when I stopped in though. I did everything I could to let him know that I was livid, short of making an actual scene. I told the other employees that he now saw my real face and realized just how ugly I was.

I can't say that I was shocked. I'd heard stories similar to that before when a girl rejected a guy's advances. I'd hoped that would be the end of the matter, but Steve wasn't even close to being done with me. Things were civil for some time. I continued visiting the cafe on an almost daily basis. Steve and I kept away from each other though. Despite being a bit tense, everything was going smooth and this all went out the window when he showed up drunk at my apartment. We hadn't exchanged a single word for nearly a month and he popped up uninvited. I wasn't aware that he knew where I lived. I'm usually good about keeping that kind of stuff to myself and I can only assume that he followed

me home from the shop one afternoon. Naturally, I was livid and I screamed at him through the door and told him to F off. He began swearing about how he would kill me. His voice slurred. The hatred in his voice was terrifying. I called the cops and they arrested him when they finally arrived. I woke up the next day and headed directly to the cafe. I had only one goal in mind and make sure that Steve lost his job. The a-hole beat me to it though. I explained what happened the night before and the girl at the counter told me that he'd called in and quit just an hour earlier. It was a great relief but I wasn't quite done yet.

I took the day off and visited the police station to press charges and get a restraining order. And it all ended up taking longer than I planned, but it got done. I went on with my life and waited to hear from the cops. After a couple of weeks, I got annoyed and contacted the cop in charge of my case. It turns out that Steve disappeared soon after being released. There was no record of him anywhere. His landlord had no forwarding address or contact information. A week later, a report came in that his car had been found parked near a bridge a few counties over. The cops considered the problem solved, but I'm not so certain. It's been over five years since this all happened and I still maintain my view. I never got the impression that Steve was the type to take his own life. You see, his body was never actually found, and no note was ever left behind.

From what I've seen and read, a note gives a narcissist one last chance to take a shot at his detractors. This was just the kind of thing I'd expect from Steve, yet nothing. Surely it can't be that hard to disappear if no one is looking for you, I suppose. False identification is available on the dark web of all places if you need it, and there are still ways to get by without it if you try hard enough. I realize how crazy this all sounds. Maybe I've seen too many spy movies. I do have other reasons I'll keep to myself. And for the present, I'm going to live under the assumption that Steve is out there walking among us. Perhaps he's waiting for the perfect time to spring his trap.

You never know. Do you have a new neighbor? A handsome but quiet stranger guarded about his past? Maybe that's Steve. Or at least the new man he's chosen to become. And until I have hard proof, I'm living as I always have, happily and as fully as possible, but making sure to look over my shoulder from time to time, just to be safe. I'm not sure how to start. I suppose I should explain how I got here.

It's not a thing I ever saw myself doing. I'm not a highly trained super soldier, drawn to combat, or a tough guy in any way. Until then, I'd only fired a gun a few times, taking potshots at cans and the like. My interest focused mainly on comics and video games like most guys my age. In high school, I was in the chess club and still play a lot online. When I began college, I caught the coding bug and that is what I focused on. I graduated with a degree and got a job with a small game developer. The job's been fun and my co-workers are really cool and smart people, a lot smarter than me in truth.

Now up until 2020 I had lived on my own for a few years. Unfortunately that year was a perfect storm of misfortune for my family and the world at large. In addition to the pandemic my mother made the difficult decision to divorce my stepfather. She had finally grown tired of enough of his verbal and physical abuse to kick him out. She was now responsible for providing for herself and my 12-year-old brother on one income. In spite of the odds, she was making it. Then the lockdowns began and she lost her job. This was a disaster. As soon as I found out, I moved out of my place and in with them. I quickly sold what I could and put the rest of my belongings in storage.

There was no way I was going to let my family get turned out onto the streets, and certainly not while a deadly plague was ravaging the planet. The lockdowns were a mixed bag for us. My job was unaffected for the most part. All work switched off-site. The extra money I saved was put into food and other bills. My mother, who had always been very interested in vintage clothing, began reselling them on Etsy and eBay. At least on the financial front, we were

eking out an existence. The good always comes with the bad and my stepfather was nothing but bad. I had encouraged my mother to file a restraining order against him as a just-in-case measure after kicking him out, but instead, he still will be allowed to see his son. I considered other options, but it didn't seem fair cutting my little brother off from his dad. So as long as he played nice, I would mind my own business and avoid him when he came around. Fortunately, the lockdowns came to an end and we were allowed to restart our lives. I began working out of the office again and my brother returned to school. Mom quickly found a part-time job tending bar downtown.

It was not an ideal situation, but a start at the least. My stepfather had to screw it up though. He discovered where mom was working and began frequenting her workplace. Mom had more than enough experience dealing with his crap and took his provocations on the chin. As usual, he got too drunk and pushed things too far. The night he threw a full glass of beer in my mom's face, the bouncers threw him out in his butt. I wish I could say that he learned his lesson, but bullies are often slow on the uptake. I couldn't deal with the humiliation, so he waited outside of our apartment, continuing to drink all the while. He sprang from the bushes and beat my

mom mercilessly until she was able to escape into the safety of the apartment. I just happened to be away that night working on a last minute deadline. Had I been there to witness it, what came later may have happened a lot sooner than it did. I arrived late the next afternoon so exhausted that I could barely see, but the second I saw my mom's face, I exploded. I'd had enough. If the cops didn't do their jobs, I would do it for them. I think mom could see how serious I was and it scared her. I believe she came up with her plan not to stop the abuse but to prevent me from ruining my life because of it. I was in the process of calling the cops when she asked me to hear her out. I was reluctant but did so. No matter what she said, I still had every intent

of making that call. She reminded me that the police had been involved many times before, but whether because of her reluctance to testify or just plain systemic disinterest, he had gotten off with little more than a slap on the wrist. Rather than call authorities, she proposed that we move somewhere that he was less likely to bother us. The lockdowns had put an end to any real reason for us to stay. Her original employer, along with many other employers in the area, had been destroyed. The school district, which had never been very good, was now in a shamble, and there was nothing keeping us there. I thought about it, and now that I'd calmed down somewhat, agreed that it

sounded good. I may have had the most to lose but I figured that I could probably work remotely. If not, I was sure that I'd be able to find a job using my skills wherever we ended up. And so the preparations began. That evening we packed everything up that we could into their cars and while we did so, I noticed mom putting her dad's old Smith & Wesson revolver in her purse. I gave her a questioning look but she quickly closed the purse and continued with the packing and I kept my feelings to myself. The following morning, we rose up early and hit the road. We hadn't informed anyone that we were leaving, not even the apartment manager. Anyone who needed to know could be informed after we arrived at our new home, and even

they wouldn't be informed of where. We convoyed for most of the day, only stopping for a quick lunch. About 6pm we decided to grab a room for the night. I made an order for some pizzas. We'd been done eating about half an hour when mom got a text from my stepfather. I watched mom turn dead pale as she read it. She just stared at the screen with her mouth gaping open. I grabbed the phone from her and read the message out loud.

Did you actually think I'd let you run away with my son that easy? My brother and I stared at one another in astonishment. We both jumped up and ran to the window. I yanked the curtain back hard and scanned the parking lot for him. It was the worst thing that I could have done. He saw me first and began running toward the room. I yanked the curtains closed but it was already too late. We couldn't do anything but stare at each other in dread as we waited for him to arrive.

The silence in the room was terrifying. Outside, the sound of running grew closer by the second. A nauseating churning stirred in my guts, and I would liken it to waiting for a bomb to land and blow you to bits. I fought off the overpowering desire to vomit. Gradually, the clomping of his boots became a deafened pounding until nothing. For a brief moment, we started to believe that we had been somehow saved. Mom crept toward the door and carefully peeked through the peephole and just as quickly jumped back from it. Suddenly, the door exploded open and off its hinges.

My brother and I turned and ran, but it was too late for my mom. She had become trapped under the door of putting her well in reach of my stepfather. He effortlessly snatched her up by her shirt and began punching her in the face as hard as possible. Each hit slung mom's body back like a ragdoll. My brother stood nearby helplessly begging his father to stop. I too could only watch as he pounded the life from her. There was little I could do. He was so much larger than me, massive and strongly built by years of hard manual labor,

and I was left with only one option. The one that I had often threatened in anger but never imagined I'd ever have to choose. Yet I had little choice. He clearly intended to kill her, and if I was going to do something, it must be done immediately. Once I decided, the act was almost mechanical. I marched over to Mom's purse and pulled the pistol from it.

I felt like that I was in a dream. It would be as simple as shooting a few cans. I pulled the trigger in three quick motions. The gun sound deafened me and a ringing drowned out my ears. My stepfather stumbled back a moment and then glared at me with the most amazed and shocked face. It's the craziest thing. I'm still completely bewildered when I look back at it. I think he honestly believed that he was going to be able to murder my mom and take my brother with him and get away with it. It's insane, but I truly believe he thought that. I was about to pull the trigger a few more times, but he stumbled around and collapsed just outside

the threshold of the door. I carefully stepped around my brother who was in a heap on the floor, sobbing. I nudged my stepdad's body with my foot and didn't get a reaction. I looked over to my mom who was unconscious on the floor. Her face was so bad and I was sure that she was dead. I stuck the pistol in my front pocket and ran back around to where my phone was charging. I unplugged it and called 911. Just to be safe, I placed the pistol back in mom's purse to make sure the cops didn't shoot me by accident. And while I waited, I checked mom for a pulse and was happy to find that she was still alive.

Help soon arrived and rushed her off to a hospital. Considering the circumstances, I had to stay behind with the police. I told them what had happened and the history we had with the subject, and they repeated the same questions over and over, I guess to see if I changed my story. They must have been satisfied because they let me leave for the hospital a few hours later. I was instructed not to leave the city until I was formally cleared, which was fine with me. A reason for running had been dealt with after all. They did take the gun as evidence, of course, and this bothered me a little because it had been my grandfather's service weapon when he was a sheriff, and I assumed that we'd never get it

back. In the end, if this was to be the price for security and peace, it was well worth paying. When I arrived at the hospital, mom was in surgery. The doctor's preliminary diagnosis was grim. Her face and skull had been fractured along with her brain almost certainly being enlarged due to swelling. There was also some concern that she may lose sight in one of her eyes. Despite the bad news, I was relieved that she had survived the attack, and the rest was in God's hands now. I joined my brother in the waiting room. He had to have been in shock. The last few hours had been an emotional rollercoaster.

Most adults live an entire life not having experienced as much as he had in such a short time. I sat and watched him for a couple of minutes. He stared at the TV keenly as if his life depended on it, and I broke the silence with an apology. I wasn't sorry for what I'd done, but I still felt bad for having to do it in his presence. He turned to me and thought deeply for a long moment before speaking. It's okay. He was an a-hole and he got what he had coming to him. I loved him, but he was a monster. Don't feel bad.

Mom's alive because of you. I was shocked by his reply to be honest. He was a very quiet kid and I never heard him voice those type of feelings before. And I was at a loss for words so I gave him a big hug and let it go at that. Mom came out of surgery a few hours later and we were soon allowed to see her. I tried to prepare myself mentally for what I may see, but I was shocked nonetheless. Her head was almost twice its size and wrapped completely, but for a few narrow tubes exiting it. I maintained my composure, but my brother was a different story. He was a blubbering mess, and I don't blame him.

It was not a sight anyone his age should have to see, especially when it was his own mother. The next week was a long period of watching and waiting. The hospital was cool enough to let us crash in the room. I had also gotten us a new motel room so we could clean up or sleep in a real bed occasionally. Gradually, mom's condition would improve and she even managed to keep vision in her damaged eye. Nearly a month later, she was finally released. It was a day I had feared may never come and I was very emotional when it arrived. Meanwhile, as mom recuperated, the investigation continued. A few days before her release, I had found us all a small house to rent in town. It was beginning to look at least for the time, that this was to be our new home.

It was a happy relief when the call finally came. After an exhaustive investigation, authorities had deemed my shooting to be justifiable. And I was a free man in the eyes of the law. The call came just 15 days ago and I'm still somewhat shaken. I'm afraid something's going to happen to ruin our new life. Mom is improving by leaps and bounds every day. I've been able to keep my job working remotely and my brother is continually proving to be an amazingly resilient individual. There is a small cloud looming off in the distance.

Our lawyer has indicated that my stepfather's family has made threats of filing a civil lawsuit against me. He seems to think it's all talk and I can't imagine them coming up with the resources needed to mount such a long and pointless undertaking. They are all a bunch of aimless poor alcoholics and addicts that can't even be bothered to hold down a job and I remain optimistic considering my adversaries. I can't think of any more to include. The situation appears to be stable and I think the biggest of our troubles has passed. Our new home is a warm and inviting place full of kind people. I wish every place was this nice. Mom has every intention of going back to work soon and my brother has already started at his new school. It seems that after all the years my family has suffered, we may finally have come out the other side of the tunnel. The future should be bright from here on. My only regret is that a boy had

to lose his father forever to get there and that I had to be the one who caused it. I'll always think of Leah as my first love. It just wasn't meant to be. It didn't seem fair to either one of us. I was going off to college halfway across the country. Even at that age, I knew long-distance relationships just didn't work. There may have been a small amount of selfishness involved in my decision, but I assumed Leah would be fine. I put it off as long as I could. With just a week left, I broke the news, and it didn't go well. I spent the entire night trying to convince her that it was for the best, but she never fully seemed to accept it and things would just get messier from there on. I left that Friday and put that part of my life behind me. Classes kept me busy during the week but I also worked hard to make friends. Meeting new people isn't hard when you live in the dorms.

I was there maybe a month when I met Stacy. She was a sophomore living on the floor above me. We had a lot in common and began dating exclusively almost immediately. This was also about the time the letter started. It was like she knew that I'd met someone and wanted to destroy it. From then on, a week didn't pass without a letter from Leah. I read them and sometimes wrote back in the beginning, but they all began to sound the same after a point. When I returned home for Christmas, she showed up unannounced. She couldn't understand why I had stopped answering the letters. I had explained it over and over. The relationship was done,

and it was past time to move on. I felt like I was speaking to a wall at that point. Not a single word got through to her, and I reached my boiling point. I told her to go away and never bother me again. I left her alone on that porch to cry herself out, and she finally left at around 4am. I felt bad for doing things that way, but I just wanted it all to be over. If it took being cruel, so be it. She'd be better off in the long run run and the remainder of my holiday was quiet. I returned to school with a positive outlook and a renewed vigor. It finally appeared my Leah problem was solved, but instead she escalated things to

an entirely new level. Everything came to a head one night in my dorm room. Stacey and I were watching a movie with the lights off. There may have been a little light petting going on. I was occupied when Stacey started yelling. I looked up to see her pointing at the window. Through a small crack in the blinds I could see a pair of eyes looking in. I grabbed the string and pulled the blinds up. Leah was standing there with a shocked look on her face. I called campus security without saying a word to her. She ran off but was caught trying to get away a few minutes later. I was determined to end it right there and then. I intended to press charges and get a restraining order against her, and I urged Stacy to do the same.

And to her credit, she came up with a better and less complex idea. When security asked what I wanted to do, I put it into Leah's hands. I promised I would take no further action if she promised to leave that second and never contact me or Stacy ever again. It was a big risk, but I was willing to take it. I guess there was still that small part of myself that felt guilty for the breakup. She reluctantly agreed and the officers allowed her to leave. To be honest, I never expected her to keep the agreement. Nonetheless, it's been nine years and I've received no visits, texts, or phone calls from her. There was one short sympathy letter that she sent upon the death of my grandfather. I was so comforted by that thought that I just let it pass. I can't speak as to whether or not Stacey has heard anything,

but I suspect that she's had the same experience. I did return home to work in my dad's company after college and have seen Leah around town on occasion, and we just do our best to avoid each other. I've been told in the intervening years that she is married and began a family and I wish her all the luck in the world and hope the marriage proves to be a very long and happy one. Last night, my husband woke me up at around 11.50 to tell me that someone had been knocking on our door and ringing our apartment doorbell for about 10 minutes on and off. He woke me up so I could possibly ID the person. Once I looked out our

upstairs apartment window, I saw the man walking to his car in our apartment parking lot across the street from our unit. He was wearing blue jeans and a gray t-shirt. He was a medium build, possibly 30 year old blonde man. He wasn't covering his face or anything. But the thing is, he was carrying what looked like resistance bands or rope. He sat in his car for around three minutes while I was on the phone with dispatch. Then he came back to our door and knocked hard for another few minutes. Dispatch advised me that the police were on their way and they hung up. I started videoing the vehicle. I read out the tag number and make and model and just watched as he put his car in park in reverse over and over again. Out of seemingly nowhere,

he backed out of the parking lot and started rushing away, but not before the officer arrived and pulled him over. My downstairs neighbor knocked on my door and told me that he had been peering into our little children's windows and was pounding on her door as well. She said that her husband had left only one minute before he started knocking at her door. She said he saw her children through the window and that's why he continued knocking. Our doors are right next to one another so he probably didn't know what door he wanted opened. He was watching us as well through our upstairs windows so I turned all of the lights out and shut the blinds while I called dispatch. The police never contacted us for a statement. I've reached out to dispatch about an update and

I'm waiting to see if any action was taken. We're keeping our eyes peeled to see if he's been following us. I'm replacing my porch light bulbs with motion detectors and putting bars in our windows and door tracks. My neighbor and our families are panicked, to say the least, and he was outside for about 25-30 minutes. Update. I'm trained in firearm usage and now live in a state where I can open carry and the background check is really quick. We're going this weekend to get a firearm. My husband will be taking some classes as he came from somewhere where owning a gun is illegal so he's never handled one. I'm still waiting on a call from the responding officer. I have his badge number and name so if they don't reach out to me today or tonight, he might work third shift, I'll call the substation. If they didn't do anything,

I'll go ahead and make a suspicious person's case for the paper trail. We had no odd encounters last night. However, while I was looking at the video I took, I remembered that car. I was walking my dog at 8pm a week ago for him to pee and this car was driving really slow through the parking lot and parked a few spots down from where I was letting my dog sniff. They just sat there with the car running. When I tell you my ears started ringing and I got an awful feeling, I'm not joking. I turned around and went home, didn't give my dog the chance to pee and shut every door and window. I think this man has been stalking our apartment building, me and my neighbors. I think he wanted to get in where

those children are, and I'll update more if I have new information. Update 2. It's been a week since the incident. I called dispatch today because I never received a follow-up from the responding officer. A sergeant from the PD called back to give me more information. He said that they pulled over the man, ran him to make sure that there were no warrants, and asked what he was doing. He told the officer that he was meeting up with an acquaintance. The officer let him go, with no further questions. Like straight out of Jeffrey Dahmer, that show. Not only that, the responding officer is also a sergeant, and I about lost my mind. The sergeant I spoke to today stated that

he should have looked into it more and it was obviously an attempted burglary. What it was motivated by is really hard to say. The responding officer is supposed to call me tonight when he gets on duty and I'm livid honestly. Zero due diligence for this case but that's not even a case. No case number, just a documented police contact. And I'll give more info when I have it. Final update. The officer finally called me and here's how the conversation went. Hello? I answered groggily and it was well past midnight.

Hello miss, I was told you have some questions about an incident a few nights ago. Yes, about Thursday. I wanted to know what that man told you have some questions about an incident a few nights ago. Yes, about Thursday. I wanted to know what that man told you he was doing, you know, he was looking in windows and carrying potential restraints. I'm not sure if that was relayed to you. I stopped him, ran his tags and he told me that he was meeting up with a guy from a dating app. He seemed forthcoming and open with his motive for being there. Meeting up with... wait, he was meeting up with someone by looking in windows, knocking on two different doors for 20 minutes? I was shocked and was still not fully awake.

Like I said, he seemed forthcoming and honest with me. Yeah, well so was Jeffrey Dahmer the first time that came to mind. With resistance bands like workout bands? He had a lot of belongings in his car, so he probably just had them in there. Right. But bringing them to a hookup? Knocking on multiple doors? He saw those little girls through the window.

He waited until my neighbor's husband left before knocking. That's on tape, officer. I checked in with the apartment management after the incident. Well, I'm familiar with this individual and I've been doing drive-thrus of your complex to make sure he doesn't come back. I haven't seen anything. If you don't have any more questions, I'll let you go, ma'am. Doesn't make sense to me, but thank you. Goodbye.

And I hung up. I don't have much to say, I just feel disgusting about that conversation. And nothing new has come of it. I haven't seen the man or the car. And my mind is blown at the lack of follow-up or due diligence. I live in a suburb, it's not a busy one either. The police department has a small jurisdiction. But I guess like usual,

I'll just have to protect myself. This happened several years ago. I was home alone one evening when I heard a knock at the back door. This confused me as no one ever used that door. My husband and I lived in a fourplex at the time, and all of the units had a back door at the top of a narrow staircase. These doors were a little inconvenient to access, as you'd have to go around the building and up the narrow stairs as opposed to the wider main entrance at the front. It didn't make sense to me to use the back entrance and I couldn't think of anyone who would go to that door to visit. As I approached the back door I saw two tall men in the window standing at the door. A chill went down my spine.

I didn't feel safe opening the door so I called out hello. One of the men tapped on the window. Yes, hello, may we come in? We're with Bresnan. At the time, my husband and I had Bresnan for cable but did not have any issues with it and I replied, we're not having any issues with Bresnan, is there a problem? Ma'am, the man said, can we come in? We're servicing the area and it's important we look at your cable. I shook my head. We're not having any issues, I repeated, so there's no need to stop by. Ma'am, we're visiting every resident. Let us in so we can

do our job. I noticed the man grab the doorknob and try to open the locked door. I slowly grabbed a knife from our knife block and held it at my chest. We're not having any issues, I repeated, trying not to convey shakiness in my voice, so you don't need to be here. The two figures appeared to shuffle and then straighten. Ma'am, let us in. We're on a deadline and need to do our job. I glanced at the clock, gauging when my husband would arrive home from work, and I gripped the knife tighter. Ma'am. Ma'am. I saw him try the doorknob again. I closed my eyes and felt overwhelming gratitude of always locking my doors.

And just then, a thought came to the forefront of my mind. I'm sorry, I can't help you. Could I please get your names and badge numbers? I can give your supervisor a call and let them know our cables. Fine. I heard another shuffle and one of the men replied, No need to ma'am. We're sorry we wasted your time.

With that, both of the men exited the staircase and disappeared into the night. Shaken up, I held the knife tight and tried to get my bearings. I remember making a mental note to call the cable company or the police but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't hold my phone. With the knife still grasped in my chest and the phone falling out of my other hand, I just sank to the floor and cried. When my husband returned home, I told him what had happened. I was still very shaken up and had started crying again after he

came home. He immediately called the Bresden Cable Company and spoke to a representative who informed us that no one from their company was out on an assignment in our area. The next day, we asked our neighbors if they had a visit from the company, and no one had. I live in a city located in a valley with a lot of smaller towns up the hills and mountains around, so it's part of the local culture for teenagers and young adults to visit these smaller areas during the winter to drink, smoke weed, and hang out with their friends. My uncle bought a house in one of these areas, so eventually I decided to get the keys and spend a weekend there with five of my friends. The house has two big bedrooms with three beds each and a lot of extra mattresses. At night, we decided at some point to go back inside and just chill, watching TV.

But since the living room had no sofas yet, we brought some mattresses from the bedrooms and just used them. One of my friends, Victor, decided to go out to smoke, and after some minutes, we hear someone knocking at the window just behind us. Everyone got scared for a second, but just looked at the window and said things like Everyone got scared for a second but just looked at the window and said things like, ugh, it's just Victor. But since we were sitting on mattresses close to the ground, it wasn't easy to see clearly who it was at the window and since the person just stood there looking straight at one of the girls, I got up to check. I saw a man who somehow looked a lot

like my friend but a bit more fat and obviously older than him. As I came to the conclusion that it was a stranger, I froze while looking at him and him looking back at me, and when I said, It's not Victor. Everyone else froze and looked at me waiting for a reaction, but all I could think was to ask what he wanted. He just stood there for a second and asked, there's a bar nearby and we need a drummer to play with our band. Is any of your friends a drummer by any chance? Which weirdly enough, I was. But I told him no and after some extra long seconds looking at us, he left. My friend came back and we made fun of the situation making jokes on how it was him messing with us. Later most of the group decided to sleep

in one bed and leave the second for me and one of the girls since they saw us kissing earlier. And we all go to bed but some hours later I wake up to the girl shaking me in horror and whispering that she heard something coming from the kitchen. So, I get up, tell her to lock the bedroom when I leave and go to check the sound like the moron who always dies first in films. As I pass by the second bedroom, I think about calling someone else to join me but as soon as I see them all sleeping, I hear something at the kitchen's window. I quickly move there in silence, check around, and as soon as I find and grab a knife, the door opens right in front of me. It was the same guy. I knew it was no joke since I just saw my friend sleeping. It probably took like 5-10 seconds of

us staring at each other, but it felt like an eternity. While still holding the door handle, he made a slow movement with the other hand towards something under his shirt, which was probably a gun or a knife. But I also lifted my hand, showing him the knife, and he stopped. The kitchen was quite small, so we were standing pretty close to each other and at this point we both knew that it would end bad for both of us if he tried something, so I just shook my head and said as calm as I could, don't. He just kept staring at me a bit more and then finally closed the door and went away. I went back, told the girl it was nothing and that we should get back to bed.

I didn't sleep that night. We left early in the morning and I made sure to ask my uncle and cousins if they ever received weird visits there. They said that the only person who ever goes there at night is the old neighbor when his wife doesn't let him arrive drunk at home, so he grabs my uncle's rocking chair to sleep until he gets sober. Now every year my friend talks about spending another weekend there, but I always make an excuse so we never go through that again. And thankfully, I never had to tell them what happened. This happened 11 years ago with my ex-girlfriend. It actually changed our relationship for the worse and we ended up breaking up a few weeks after. Nonetheless, I still remember this like it was yesterday due to how unexplainable it was. My girlfriend at the time wanted to surprise me with what she said was an overnight

surprise trip. I obliged and felt like I was a pretty lucky guy for her to do something that required that much planning. After packing a duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries, we left for what I thought was a resort or some kind of hotel stay. Two and a half hours passed when we pulled off of a main road and headed down an off-road path. I asked her if this was a camping trip and she replied yes. To be honest, I was disappointed as I didn't really like camping and not to mention, I wish I knew to pack my hiking shoes. I didn't complain of course because it was still a romantic gesture. Fifteen minutes on this rough road we finally pulled into a camping ground.

The first thing I noticed was that there really wasn't anyone around us. It made sense though, this was really far off the beaten path. I was actually surprised her car made it that far out considering how harsh the road was. Anyway, we make a fire pit and she cooks dinner. Everything is going just fine and we are really feeling each other. We of course take it to the tent as the sun goes down and we're vibing off of each other. Yeah, it's what you would expect would happen as we begin moving things along as young college age kids do. And this is where the first strange occurrence happens. I hear scratching noises on the side of the tent. I try to remember if we set the tent up next to brush. Maybe the wind is causing branches to rustle against the

tent. Oh well, that's the woods, maybe it's a bird or something I thought. It stops rustling and we continue chilling as if nothing happened. Then things escalate in a strange manner. It's like the wind stopped and the environment became silent. We both felt uneasy causing us to sort of get knocked out of our playful mood. She laid next to me as we tried to concentrate on listening to hear if there was a bear or some other animal in the area. Then it happened in an instant. Something akin to an explosion hit the tent tremendously hard.

I could compare it to, say, if a log was thrown like a battering ram against the side of the tent. I say this because it literally pushed the material in forcefully and felt dangerous. A surge of adrenaline lit through my body as I felt something violent was outside the tent. I never knew if I was a fight or flight guy but I guess my next action gives me some idea. I yell aloud, give me the knife and flashlight, as I scramble up and unzip the tent with tools in my hand. My first thought was that I was going to confront some psycho that was messing with us, perhaps with a baseball bat or some kind of battering weapon. I kid you not, I launched myself out of that tent and stood up in a flurry to confront my attacker.

A few breaths pass as a cold feeling sets in. I do a 360 scan to nothing but silence and darkness. Maybe it was a branch that fell in the tent. No, there was absolutely nothing on the ground where the thud was heard and felt. Hello, I yelled again and again, to no response until only a minute later in the silence a chill spot shot up my spine. Get the keys, get out of the tent, I said in a frantic tone as my girlfriend listened and now joined me. I looked at her car that we arrived in and noticed it was about 30 yards out by the shoddy off-road path. She didn't even need to know what I was thinking as we both just started to speedwalk towards it. You might be thinking at this point

that I'm overreacting, but truly I cannot describe the terror that washed over me when I looked out in the darkness after investigating the tent. I could feel like something was watching me and to top it off, it was eerily silent. I know she confirmed my suspicions when she started for the car immediately without question. Our instincts were telling us to get the hell out of there. The walk to the car was unnerving and felt like a football field away but finally we got into the car. With keys in hand, I took the driver's seat. After turning the keys, led to some relief as the engine started.

Instinctively, I locked the doors and turned the headlights on. We sat for about three seconds trying to rationalize what was happening when my girlfriend started exclaiming, My laptop's moving. Something's in the tent. She said this because she brought her laptop to serve as a lantern after dark. We of course left it in a hurry as well as other items, and I saw what she saw. It was items being rustled around about 30 yards away, and without further hesitation I put the car in gear and started down the rough road. As I tried to calmly drive the car down the dirt path quickly but carefully,

it was a very rough road and I didn't want to get stranded out there. The strangest thing happened next. A loud piercing ringing noise rang from inside the car's cabin. I turned the radio on and off. I checked the windows. I asked my girlfriend if her car had ever made such noises and she replied no. I asked her again if she could hear it as maybe it was just me being under stress and she said, yes I hear it, I don't know what that is though, in a confused, panicked tone. Now I wanted to write this off as a car

problem but if you were in there with me you would describe it as some kind of bell continuously ringing. It didn't sound like any car noise I had ever heard. My next instinct as I grew up as a pastor's kid, I just remember praying for ten minutes as I was convinced it was some supernatural or demonic event. We endured the screech for ten grueling minutes as to my relief it ended suddenly. It didn't fade out or go quiet. The loud ring literally stopped in an instant. I can't describe the feeling in that car when it stopped. It is so strange to look back and remember that I felt internally that the ordeal was over once the ring stopped. Everything felt normal again. The panic, the chills, all of that went away in an instant. We ended up down the road another 45 minutes and finally stopped at a trucker diner.

We slept in the parking lot, or at least she did, as I was still on edge from the adrenaline dump that I just went through. In attempted bravery, the next day we went back to the camping site as the sun was up. We investigated but saw no tracks or anything except for the contents of the tent tossed around but still accounted for. I was hoping that they were missing so I could write it off as people screwing with us and plundering our tent but that didn't seem to be the case. We were packed up and gone in less than ten minutes as the area still just felt off. I haven't been camping since. I would go again, but the next time I went in RV or at least a relatively known location with others around.

This place was the remote mountains of Payson, Arizona. Far from civilization. I believe this was April 2018. I had gone to Colorado for a concert and was just driving around checking everything out before and after. The day before the concert I'm driving to the Rockies cause I thought it'd be cool I guess. It was already probably 9pm at this point. I get to a gas station and there's an old lady with a giant suitcase. I went inside, bought a pack of swishers, got gas, and as I was leaving she asked me for a ride. Being young and stupid, I said, sure, hop in, ma'am. Then she had me get her giant suitcase in my back seat and we were off. The ride started off pretty normal at first.

We just talked about life. She did most of the talking, mostly about her kids and family. She claimed that she was hitchhiking to Alaska for some insane reason that I can't remember now. Anyways, I had a joint that I decided to just give her and let her smoke while we were driving. I'm not really sure why. Maybe to just get her to shut her smoke while we were driving. I'm not really sure why. Maybe to just get her to shut up a little bit I suppose. Eventually she asks if I want to try her weed but

keeps mentioning how it tastes funny. Which was a huge red flag so I politely said no. She then started getting weird talking about homeless camps where people smoke meth. Then I actually got a good look at her and realized that she was probably like a 40 year old tweaker and not as old as I thought she was. Also, I think I saw an Adam's apple and that maybe it was a dude. Yeah, anywho, she starts pointing out the rest stop signs or whatever which are like a hundred plus miles out and was trying to convince me to go to one with her and kept saying, I don't have any money but some people will let you suck them off if you give them a ride.

And at this point I'm actually driving like a maniac in the middle of a pretty bad snowstorm at the time in hopes that I'm more visible and noticeable to people if anything were to happen. At this point I was terrified for my life, politely refusing all of her drug and intimate-related advances. And finally, we get to a town on the opposite side of the Rockies from Denver, and I pull up to a gas station and say, okay, I gotta go to Denver and get some sleep. I'm dropping you off here. And all she said was, you're a very, very smart young man. And I helped her unload the suitcase and left, thanking God that I was still breathing. If any of my actions are questioned, this was at a time in my life when I was particularly lost and not in a good mental

state at all. I definitely shouldn't have been roaming Colorado by myself. I'm a smaller guy, no weapon aside from had the entire lower main floor unit that I lived in to myself. I used to bartend and manage a nightclub a few blocks away and would usually get home at around 4am. This night I had just finished a 12-hour shift, was exhausted and hungry so I decided to order some food. I place the order, get my joint rolled and ready for when the food arrives, put on a movie and wait. Eventually I hear the doorbell ring and being alone and it being late at night I waited to get the photos sent to the delivery app to verify my food was at the door so I didn't have to make small talk with the driver as post-covid I still kept the option for contactless delivery. 3-5 minutes pass, I see the photo of my food on the

doorstep and decide to get up and go get it. My bedroom window had 5 large windows that gave me full view of the path along the house, the main street in front, our garbage area and the area right in front of our unit's door. The driver is still out there and now he's texting me to come out and get my food. I tell him that he left it in the perfect spot, that I'll be out shortly to get it and thanks for delivering it. At this point I'm waiting for him to go because even though marijuana is legal here, people can still be judgmental and I don't want to go out in my PJs to collect my food, smoke and see a human after working all night. He doesn't leave. He keeps texting me to

come outside and now I can hear him talking to another male voice, although my window view obscures anyone else that might be out there. The food in the photo was right against my door and I can see him edging it away and off to the side so I'd have to fully step out and around a corner to collect it. I keep texting him, telling him that it's in a perfect spot. I'm glad that he followed the instructions and I'll be out shortly. He starts banging on my front door, still occasionally talking to this other male voice. My food is now further away from the door and he won't stop banging and telling me to come outside. Eventually I tell him that I said the delivery is no contact as I have COVID, a lie, and don't want to get anyone sick.

After I saw that he'd read my message on the app, he put my food back by the front door and walked out of there through the back parking lot. Initially he came through the front of the house. Something about this entire encounter felt so off. I waited about 15 minutes until I couldn't see anyone or hear anyone and quickly opened the door and grabbed my food. The whole ordeal lasted about an hour. My food was nice and cold and the joint was out and away for another day and my heart was racing for cold, and the joint was out and away for another day, and my heart was

racing for the rest of the night. I have no idea what that delivery man had in store for me, but I'm glad I didn't go out. Two years ago I moved to the UK for university. I as always wanted to go there and get away from my parents as the situation at home was beginning to become too toxic for me. In the first year at university I moved into a student accommodation and met some really great people. It was a good year, without meeting my boyfriend who I'm still with and just enjoying my time away from my family and discovering what independence really meant. Anyhow, as second year came by I decided with some friends to move into a house rented by student accommodations but at least we had our own house and weren't restricted as much with noise and parties as living in a small shared flat like in first year. Now I should note that I had a ground floor room and my window

gave into a very small backyard in which I would go smoke every day as I am a smoker and in which there would be very thin wooden doors giving into the other side of the street where you would put your bins and broken chairs and blah blah blah. The door could only be closed and locked from inside the backyard but since it was an old door we had to attach some strings to keep it closed for good. I had neighbors on each side of the house as we were surrounded by families and some other student accommodations. The neighbors on the right of us were five boys who looked way over the age of being in university. They were strange to say the least. I met some of them outside of our house one day because of a police intervention due to one of his flatmates attacking him and the others

with a kitchen knife and burning their kitchen down. I heard some screams and so I went outside with my flatmates and saw one of them covered in blood and cuts everywhere on his arm and a wound on his head inflicted by a kitchen knife. Me and my flatmates didn't know what to do so we offered him our help to clean himself and gave him an old t-shirt to change out of his bloody clothes. We then saw the guy who hurt these flatmates being escorted out by police and into a van and driven off to be arrested. I don't know anything more about this story, the police didn't really tell us anything else. Anyway, the guy who helped was quite weird. He said a lot of nonsense and

kept trying to grab me and flirting with me and we noticed when helping him he smoked quite a lot of marijuana but just didn't really care at the moment as we just wanted to make sure that he was okay as we didn't know him. Then after some time had passed I would go to uni and come back home and see him quite often in the street and just never said a word to him again. But one day he came up to me in the street while I went to the corner shop and started talking to me weirdly and I didn't feel comfortable at all with that for some reason so I just didn't respond to him. He then just said, Oh that's okay. I'll just wait in front of your house then and we can talk further.

No need to say I was creeped out and just thought that he was joking so I bought my drink at the shop and headed back to my street and as I turned into the street where my house was I saw him with his flatmate sitting on my doorstep and waiting for me. So I started to panic and went back next to the corner shop and called my only guy flatmate to ask him to open the door and tell the guy to go away. But obviously, he wasn't home and no one else was either. So I literally just waited it out until they left one hour later and then sprinted back home and locked the front door. Now I should note, my front door had a glass panel on it where you would be able to kind of make out who was standing in front of it. After this already pretty scary encounter, I just tried to avoid the guy and mostly succeeded for a while. But then one day,

as I went smoking in the backyard, I noticed that the wooden door, which is always closed, was open, and the strings that we put there to keep it closed were cut off. For whatever reason, I didn't think anything of it and just closed the door again and put a new string on it, thinking it was one of my flatmates who took the bins out and just didn't tie it back. The weird neighbors would very often scream and yell and fight in their house and it would wake me and my flatmates up in the middle of the night but we kinda got used to it after a while.

But one evening my boyfriend slept over like he usually did and he, who usually never wakes up because of a noise, woke up in the middle of the night because of a bang and some whispering. I was sound asleep so he very silently woke me up and we both just waited in the dark and listened for any other noises. Suddenly we heard the wooden door just bang, just shot open and some footsteps next to my window. I always had my window open because it would get really warm inside so we both just froze. And then we heard the door leading to the backyard getting shaken softly as if they were trying to get inside and then they stopped. Luckily we had the curtains closed so

they couldn't see us but we were ready to get dressed and get the F out of the room and lock them in if they came in the front window. Then we just heard my window move and get more open and one of the guys says something in a different language that we didn't understand and started to hear them trying to get in. My boyfriend and I just shot up out of bed, took my phone and put clothes on and ran out of the room and out of the house. So I then called my flatmates and told them to lock themselves in their rooms and then the police, who luckily came in less than five minutes as the headquarters were a couple of streets down from us. I don't remember anything after the police came. I think me and my boyfriend were in shock. They ended up catching one guy, the other fled and was later found a few streets up

smoking weed. The police told us that they went inside of their house and found a lot of meth and heroin and that they were just carrying a massive kitchen knife with them. Randomly I guess? I was so confused as I've never done anything to offend or do anything wrong to these neighbors so the idea of them breaking in with god knows what intentions with a kitchen knife terrorized me and my boyfriend. The two guys ended up being arrested and one of them was put in prison for two years for carrying a weapon with intention to harm. I never heard anything else from the police and I moved back home a few months later as I was so scared and it tormented me for months on no end, not knowing what would have happened if my boyfriend didn't wake up. I'm now still coping

with it and find it really tough to get over it of always asking myself what if and what would have happened if. I now very often wake up because of the slightest noise and get horrible nightmares because of it but hey, at least I'm still with my boyfriend and we often talk about it and it truly does help a lot. Something was watching me and my brother from behind my window. No one would ever believe me, but I wanted to share this story because I talked about it yesterday for the first time. English isn't in my native language and I live in northern Europe. My country is cold and covered by large forests and several lakes.

My family consists of my mother, father, and an older brother who is three years older than me. He's really important to the story and it's also important to know that my parents' house is in the middle of nowhere, just forest around it. There aren't even proper roads or any streetlights. The nearest neighbors live really far away. In my country, winter comes early and lasts longer than summer, so the days are dark almost all year round. My father is a fireman and my mother is a nurse, so they have always been on night shifts. They have left me and my brother home alone since we were just toddlers. I don't know if it's even legal to leave us alone but my brother has always been good at taking care of me. This particular evening was close to Christmas. Both of us were

on winter break but my brother still went to ice hockey practice. He was really tired that night after practice. Father and mother had gone to work at night and left us alone. I was 8 at the time and my brother was 11. We often slept next to each other downstairs in our parents' bed, but I decided to be a big girl that night and sleep in my own bed upstairs. I really just wanted to play my Nintendo and I knew my brother wouldn't let me. My brother was so tired after training and he just wanted to go to sleep. We ate, brushed our teeth, and went to our rooms upstairs. My room faced the forest and his room faced the only dirt road. There is a hall and a toilet between our rooms. My brother must have fallen

asleep right away, but I played and played, and I played for so long that I lost track of time. I was under my covers in case my brother came to scold me for staying up late and I started to hear something outside. However, I didn't pay attention to it at first. I have lived all my life in the middle of the forest. You can hear voices from there all the time. The small noises changed in a second and someone started shouting, almost screaming. It sounded like a grown man who was wounded. I lifted my head from under the covers, startled, and listened for a moment. I called out my brother's name, but he didn't answer. I got up from my bed and ran to my brother's room, and he was sleeping soundly. I started rocking him awake. At the time,

I saw from his alarm clock that it was two in the morning. My brother woke up confused. Did you hear that? I asked in a whisper. My brother's eyes widened and all sleep vanished from his eyes and he sprang up. He didn't say anything. He walked towards my room. The shouting came from somewhere in the forest. We stood together in my room and stared out into the darkness. I think someone needs help, I said quietly, but my brother's expression didn't change. His face was like a stone. No.

No one needs the help of two kids. Besides, if he needed help, he'd be screaming for help. My brother turned around, and he was right. I heard no words, just screaming. My brother walked downstairs and I ran after him. When our house has three doors, we tried each of them to make sure that they were locked. We took our father's headlamp because it was the strongest light and he picked up the house phone. This was back in 2010 so not all the kids had their own phones and he made sure all the lights were off and took my hand and he started to lead us back upstairs. He then stopped and the shouting had changed.

It no longer sounded scared or needing for help. It sounded irritated, almost angry, like it was annoyed that we didn't come out looking for it. My brother squeezed my hand and pulled me upstairs. He stared at my room for a moment before he pulled me into his room with him. He closed the door and sat behind his bed, pulling me into his arms. It was dark everywhere and my brother hadn't turned on the headlamp, but he had 112 ready on the phone, our country's emergency number, and we sat there in silence. The sound had come closer until it was clearly behind the window of my room. We heard someone banging on my window, and I immediately started to sob.

My brother stroked my head to calm me down, but it didn't help. I was so scared. The sound seemed to be coming closer and closer. It had climbed the fire escape under my window and was now traveling along the rain gutters towards my brother's window. Then it became quiet. It stopped screaming, but we could hear it clinging to the rain gutters to get closer to us. Then it was too quiet. My brother turned on the headlamp and pointed the

light towards his window. Nothing. He turned off the light and waited a moment, and then he pointed the light at the window again. Nothing. He turned it off and waited. He pointed the light at the window. Nothing. He turned it off. Then there was a big crash, as if a big pile of snow had dripped from the roof down to the terrace. My brother flashed the light in the window, and there was something on it. The kind of trace that is left when you breathe too close to the glass in cold weather. There was a trace of mist on it. My brother immediately turned off the light. Whatever it was, it had fallen down because my brother's

window has nothing to hold on to. We started hearing moaning. It sounded only partially human anymore. It sounded more like a bear. If you've ever heard the sound of a bear and the sound that it makes when it's been shot, that is what it sounded like. But it had a touch of man. And then the voice became angry again and it threw a full tantrum. It started hitting the wall of the house. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my head against my brother's shirt. It raged for a while, but started to whine and moan again. It no longer sounded human at all. I can't describe what it was like, but it didn't sound natural. My brother dropped the headlamp on the floor and hugged me tightly,

and we listened to the sound for quite a long time. I don't remember at what point I fell asleep, but I just remember waking up in the morning. The beautiful morning sun reflected against the white snow. I was laying on my brother's bed, and he was sitting next to me reading comics, and he smiled. Had I been dreaming? I didn't have time to say anything when we heard the lock on the front door open. It was 9 o'clock. Dad had come home.

My brother cheerfully jumped out of bed and ran to greet dad downstairs. Maybe I had a nightmare and went to sleep next to my brother. It doesn't sound impossible, especially since my brother didn't mention it in the morning. I convinced myself that I had really just had a nightmare and that it felt real, and I believed so for many, many years, until that changed. My brother came to visit me yesterday, and nowadays I live in the capital of my country, far away from my mother and father because I go to university. My brother broke up with his long term girlfriend and I promised that he could bunk in my place as long as he needed. And we had a lot of fun, just like

old times. We drank some wine and watched a movie and just talked about everything. And then we started talking about things a little deeper, which usually happens after drinking. I turned to look out my window. Winter was coming and it was already dark. It brought back childhood memories. I told him about a dream I had when I was little, while looking at the street lamps outside. This darkness reminds me of when I had a nightmare as a child. I dreamed that someone screamed behind my window and I hid in your room with you. Wasn't I so strange back then? I laughed and turned to look at my brother. My brother's 23. He's huge. He's into bodybuilding and has a blonde beard and he looks a bit like a viking and I'd never seen a look on him like that in his adult. He looked at me with big eyes. He was pale, like he had

seen a ghost. I freaked out a little. What? I asked awkwardly. Do you remember that? He asked, and it got quiet. What do you mean? Wasn't it a dream? I was so confused, and my brother looked really startled, as if I had dug up an old memory from his mind that he wanted to forget. Answer me, I thought I had a nightmare. I was startled too, and my brother shook his head. I thought you wouldn't remember that. He was so little, I hoped that he'd forget. My brother looked at me blankly and told me his side of the story.

He told me how I had fallen asleep in his arms from exhaustion. He pushed me to his bed but didn't fall asleep himself. And he sat by my side all night like a guard dog. The morning had begun to dawn. The sound began to fade until it just disappeared, and my brother still couldn't sleep. He decided to start reading comics to pass the time, and in the morning when my father had come home, my brother had gone out to look for tracks, but since it had snowed all night and morning, all the tracks were covered. For the next week, my brother visited my room several times a night to make sure that I was sleeping safely.

We started talking more about what happened, and neither of us ever mentioned what happened to anyone. And I asked him why he didn't call 112, but he shook his head. Who would have believed me? And he was right. It would have sounded like a prank invented by some little boy. My brother also said that he was annoyed that he didn't flash the light to the window sooner. He would have wanted to see what the creature looked like. I was just happy that I hadn't seen anything.

I'm also happy to know that I'm not crazy. It wasn't a dream. I have a witness. My brother experienced it too and he remembers it better than I do. And no one else has to believe me No one else would believe me Of course it's also possible that somehow we created the whole thing in our little heads We have no physical evidence of what happened and it happened years ago

It's very possible that we were just kids with overactive imaginations I'm certainly not denying that possibility However, I'm interested to know if anyone else has experienced something similar, and if you have, did you see it? The creature? And if you did, what did it look like? I'm going to share something that happened to me when I was very little, and I still have chills to this day. My grandma was sick, and my parents left me and my sister in our house to go see her. I was a five-year-old girl, and my sister was seven, I believe, and we were told to go to sleep, which we did. When it was already very late, I'm pretty sure way after midnight,

I heard meowing outside of her house. I didn't think anything, didn't ask my sister, I just went ahead to the front door and opened it. There were four men outside, and they looked at me, and I remember to this day one of them had this evil smile. Just by an instinct I understood that I am in a very, very big danger and probably within a few seconds, even though it felt like forever, I closed the door and was able to lock it. They went to grab the doorknob but didn't catch it and it just happened so fast. They started trying to break the door down, screaming and cursing, hitting it with their feet, shoulders and God knows what else.

My sister woke up and we were so afraid that she came to me and told me to go under the bed because if they broke in, they won't know that we're home and maybe they won't find us. I was too scared to tell her what I did and that they know I'm here. We were under the bed for a very long time and eventually those men left. I don't know why and after how long. We fell asleep and stayed under the bed till the morning time when my parents came back and saw all the door damage. And my sister told them that someone had tried to break in. I never told anyone what I did.

I'm so scared and panicking to this day even looking back at it. That could have been the reason for my sister and me being killed. And I still get completely horrified thinking about that night. To be continued... I got a few work-related stories from my hometown I can post. This first one happened when I was a 20-year-old college student. At the time, I worked in a, let's say, rustic-looking gas station. It wasn't a building by itself either. Rather, it acted more like a booth that was attached to a supermarket. The booth itself is located a bit off-site on the other side of this huge parking lot but the supermarket owns it. The booth faces the store but it has a huge woodland

area directly behind it. The door to the booth faces left into the woods and I know I'm being overly specific but this is important. So the window in the booth is bulletproof but only covers the front so you can't see directly to the left or right of the booth. At the window in the booth is bulletproof but only covers the front so you can't see directly to the left or right of the booth. At the time of this experience, I'd been working at the station for maybe a few months when all of a sudden, this nasty storm hit the area one night. The rain was so bad that you could barely see 10 feet in front of you and it was flooding all over the place. But the supermarket, being desperate for money, refused to close the booth down so I showed up for my typical 5 to 11 pm shift in the

pouring rain. Three hours into my shift the power goes out due to the storm which by this point has gotten downright apocalyptic. It's pitch black out there and the rain is coming down hard so I decided to sit tight in the booth while I wait for a manager or something to either let me go or to fix the power. Of course this means the phones are down so I can't call in the store and nobody in their right mind is buying gas so I decided to start doing my booth chores like cleaning the counter, counting cigarettes, tidying the drawer, etc. Now, this next

part will require a bit more background information, so bear with me. The booth itself is supposed to be locked at all times, but one of the new hires managed to break the key off inside the lock, making one of our managers break the lock so we all could get back inside. That lock still hadn't been replaced but we were told to pretend the door was still locked. The door still had a deadbolt but I found it annoying to fool with so I mostly just left it unlocked. Whenever I'd go to open the door I'd pretend to put the key in and make an audible ksh sound like a lock being opened. Anyway, back to me sitting in the unlocked booth in the pitch black pouring rain.

I'm in the middle of my chores when I hear something outside the booth, like a muffled sort of splashing sound. Again, there is zero visibility, so I press my ear against the door and I can clearly hear someone walking around the booth, in the rain, before stopping in front of the door. Before I can kick myself for not locking it, I hear that ksh sound, followed by the most dreadfully quiet couple of seconds. I'm just waiting to die at the hands of some deranged serial killer or crackhead, when suddenly the footsteps start splashing back into the woods. I quietly soil myself as I race to lock the deadbolt and I wait out my shift. I would occasionally hear the footsteps outside but I never tried to open

the door. Finally my manager drives over in a truck to close me out for the night. Since I'm still kind of new here I didn't want to seem like I was delusional or crazy or that I was a crackhead so I never mentioned it to him or anyone else at the store. A few months later, this kid I was training told me he'd heard footsteps real late one night during a storm, and thankfully, the lock had been replaced since then. I just tell him it was nothing, but not to open the door if he thinks there is something out there. Not because I didn't want to look delusional, but because I can't explain this phenomenon. Now fast forward a couple of months and I'm still working at the booth. By this point I'm the second oldest person working there so sometimes I'd get

calls from younger co-workers when they accidentally mess up. On this particular night I was off but I still got a call from this high schooler who I'll call Ria. I look at the time and it's 9.30 so I sigh and pick up the phone and before I can even get in a what happened, Ria is in hysterics saying something about her trainee being missing and then lots of sobbing. Confused if not a little agitated that she called me first, I try to get her to call the cops or something if he's been kidnapped, but she insists that she can't call the cops because they wouldn't believe her. So, my next line of thinking is to ask her why she hasn't told a manager and she cries some more and says that they wouldn't understand.

More agitated than confused, I agreed to go out there and calm her down. I get dressed, go out there and park next to the booth. There were no customers around and the girl was just standing in the booth, staring at the door. She spots me, opens the door and starts sobbing, telling me to hurry inside. Eventually I got her to stop crying long enough to tell me what happened. Apparently, she was training this new guy, Matt Who was an older guy, about my age And she said, the dude felt off, like a robot or something And kept staring at her all dazed

Several times he would stop talking mid-sentence and ignored her attempts to address it At this point, she's getting real uncomfortable and is about to call into the store about him when he starts sort of humming, she says. She described it as kind of like as if someone was attempting to imitate a purring cat, like they were breathing heavily and buzzing at the same time. So she reaches for the phone, and he reacts by grabbing her hand and just staring at her. She starts bawling at this point, begging him to stop and he lets go of her hand, then opens the door and just sprints off into the woods out of sight. She said he came back a few minutes just before I got there and asked to be let back in,

but she refused, so he just ran back into the woods. At this point, I'm either thinking he picked up on the meth phase that the neighborhood was slinging around or that she's being dramatic. Regardless, the story sounded pretty dangerous and we needed to call the cops or something at least. I tell her we're going to call the cops and then we're going to walk outside and wait for them, but she doesn't want to go outside. She says that she can almost feel him waiting out there. Tired, irritated and not really buying the story I just say screw it. She can stay in the booth and call the cops while I make sure the tree line is clear. I take this weak little flashlight that I stashed out there after the first story and go outside to start scanning the tree line.

I barely begin shining the light around when suddenly the hair stands up on the back of my neck as I hear this humming noise. She described it rather well too because it sounded kind of like cicadas mixed with breathing. I look inside the booth and she's curled up in the chair, staring to my left. I didn't even look where she was staring, I just immediately booked it back to get inside. But I left the keys with her, and she's not getting up to let me in. I'm pounding on the door while screaming at her to let me in, and the humming stops abruptly as I hear something behind me and to the left. It's Matt. He's standing just on the edge of the trees.

My panic intensifies, and at this point, Ria finally lets me into the booth, and I immediately deadbolt the thing shut. All of a sudden, Matt is right outside asking to be let back in. He says he's sorry, and that he got a bit nervous back there, and he begins circling the booth while he just repeats the same couple of excuses asking to come in. This continues for maybe five minutes before the cops arrive and Matt just begins to run off into the woods again. I end up having to explain to both the cops and our manager what happened, leaving out the weird humming. As far as I know, Matt never showed up. So they fired him and Ria quit eventually. And that was the end of it. I was never particularly close to Ria since she was

still in high school when I was in college so we never got to talk about what happened. I have no idea what happened that night though. Maybe Matt was just some doped up meth junkie who was capable of making some really weird noises. I'll never know. I guess it could explain why he bolted out of there when the cops began to show up, but that day is still quite a mystery to my mind. I've got a weird story. It's nothing super wild, but it weirded me and my girl out for long enough that we still talk about it. My morning routine is always the same. Wake up, shower off, drink coffee and head out. So that morning I'm taking a shower, sitting in the tub feeling like even a full pot of coffee won't wake me up this morning when all of a sudden I get this rush of immense dread.

I tried to rationalize it but there was nothing detrimental happening with my work that had caused me to feel this intense. And I realize that I feel like someone is on the other side of the curtain. I get a little annoyed but try to shrug off the confused panic that was settling in for seemingly no good reason. Yet I couldn't shake off this dread. It seriously felt like someone was going to poke their head in and stare at me and I could not shake this feeling. Somehow I feel like I already knew what they look like as my rational side begins to wonder if there was something leaking into the water pipes causing me to feel this way. Suddenly, the feeling begins to become unbearable

and I open the curtain against my best interest. The feeling simply disappears and I'm left feeling just severely weirded out. I quickly finish washing off and proceed throughout my day. Now fast forward a couple of weeks. At this point, this feeling happened to me a couple of times, maybe five times in total. One afternoon, my wife says, I have a weird question. Do you ever get a weird feeling in the shower like you're being watched? It was so specific that I couldn't help but begin to feel like I was going to wet myself.

Keep in mind, I've never told anyone about this experience before, so I tell my story about what I've experienced and nervously laugh off how weird it was that she brought it up. It almost feels like you know what he looks like, right? She says as we hash out more details. My brain kind of haywires for a second and I instantly take a step back. This isn't just a coincidence anymore. She's describing my exact dread moments word for word. Yeah, like a man with a crazed smile, and eyes too wide, and if you wait too long he'll open

the curtain. I manage to say back. We similarly freak out together and realize that something's weird, if not straight up wrong with the bathroom. And this went on for a while but with less frequency, until one day, it just stopped. We still talk about this to this day because it was so obscure. No clue what it was about and we're both not super into ghosts or whatever, but we couldn't deny that weird experience though. Another quick one-time experience we had was during a late night after some laughs on YouTube and wine. Feeling the buzz of the wine, we decide to start watching horror movies and mysteries and enjoy the good spooky mood in the air. Soon, we started chatting about what makes a good horror story as we were bored of the LARPs and the videos. Suddenly, we both get this weird vibe

about the room. I joke about how we're manifesting spookiness into reality, but she shushes me and asks me if something is outside. We lived on the top story of our complex at the time and the window overlooked a bunch of trees. It was nothing fancy and not as fun or nature-esque as it sounds. The trees are slightly diseased from growing in a water runoff and they squeak and squeal in the wind. I take a look and there's nothing outside except the sickly trees. She just kind of sits there, blank expression on her face. There's something outside,

she says. I look again, and just like before, there's nothing of note there. I think you might be drunk, babe. Here, let's just listen to music and change the mood. I say with false confidence, I'm not going to lose my shot at a good night over some spookiness. Just close the blinds, please. She mutters. Fine. If it means I can move the night on, I'll close the blinds, I think to myself. I stand up to close the blinds, and they suddenly fall right out of the window just as I go to reach for that little rope.

We exchange confused and freaked out looks, and she jumps away from the window. That's an odd coincidence, I say, beginning to drunkenly put the blinds back up but now she's too freaked out to let it slide. The night does eventually go on with me telling her that I must have just drunkenly pulled too hard but I know I didn't. I barely even had my finger around the string before the whole blinds collapsed. We spent the night trying to ease ourselves, but I'll share some stories. I was born and raised in God's country, Lafayette, Louisiana. But my dad's side of the family is all Appalachian mountain folk. I mean, they are 100% American-bred country bumpkins.

The kind you can barely understand when they talk to you. They're good people, though, and great great storytellers so I grew up listening wide-eyed to their crazy tales of mountain witches and other kinds of beings in the woods. For example, when I was really young, my dad used to cut our hair. He scooped it up and then would go out into the woods for a little while. I never questioned this until one day my youngest brother got his first haircut. As usual, dad cut it and when he was done he'd scoop up the hair off the ground like he always did. This time, however, our grandfather was there in the room. He spoke up and said, make sure to bury it. And my dad nodded and went out into the woods. I was about 10 by this point and I had never been told that dad was

burying our hair so I asked about it and grandpa said that witches use your hair to cast spells on you. He said that you've got to go out where no one can see you and dig a hole and bury it, otherwise witches will use it to curse you. My grandpa is shocked that I've never heard that before as if it's a completely normal thing for anyone to know He then asks me, didn't your dad ever explain how to tell if a witch made a curse out of your hair? I tell him no sir And he explains that witches can put spells on bits of human hair to make a person sick, or to make them do things Occasionally this will result in a hairball, he says. I'm thinking that

he means like the kind of hairball that a cat hawks up, but he describes it as a big, tangled up wad of hair. It just appears like out of thin air, wherever you are. It sounds obviously fake, but he calls my older cousin over who was staying with us at the time. Hey, tell him about the time you found a hairball. My cousin's eyes go wide. He begins to go on this rant, saying that during one morning he was at the breakfast table talking to his brother. They were sitting across from each other when a big wad of hair just materialized out of thin air. They watched it apparently manifest right in front of their eyes before it floated

over towards my cousin. Those witch balls can burn your skin, he told me. So he grabbed a pair of tongs and plucked it out of the air, careful not to touch it. Then he tossed it into a fire. I asked him if anything ever happened after that, but he said no. I asked if he'd ever been burned by one of those hairballs, and he said no, but that his friend had. Apparently, this friend was out on his farm one day when he heard a cow mooing in the woods. Thinking one of his cows escaped, he followed the noises until he came to a small clearing, but there was no cow there. All of a sudden, as his friend described it, a bunch of witch balls appeared out of thin air and encircled him.

He knew what they were immediately and took off running, but he ran into a few on his way out and the next day, his face and arms and neck were covered in these huge burns. Looked kinda like road rash, he said quietly. Afterwards, my grandfather told me to be careful about my hair, and from then onward I always made sure dad buried my hair if he cut it. I know it's all imaginary folklore now, probably to keep hair from clogging drains or something, but good god if I still don't do it myself. Here's another one from grandfather. There's apparently some strange phenomenon that happens before some people die.

They just call it the knocking. Every time before someone died, they'd hear a tapping at the front door. The tapping always stopped as soon as someone went to check on it, but the next day, someone in that house would be dead. Sometimes only the person who was about to die would hear it, but the next day, someone in that house would be dead. Sometimes only the person

who was about to die would hear it, but usually multiple people would hear it, and apparently it happened to someone in my family, one of my dad's cousins. He was outside with a bunch of friends and family when they all heard someone pounding on the front door of the house. They looked over, but no one was there. They figured maybe one of the kids had gone inside and was playing around, so they got back to talking. The pounding started again, and my dad's cousin went over to tell the kids to stop messing around, but again, nobody was there. He closed the door and began walking towards everybody in the yard when the knocking came again, this time quieter. My dad's cousin looked back and nothing was there. My grandfather said everyone got spooked because they all knew that this meant that

there was going to be a death in the family. And the next day, my dad's cousin was found in his bed, dead, with no apparent causes. I used to be in the Navy, stationed on the Aegis-class guided missile cruiser. One day at sea, I'm taking a break on the flight deck, which was just behind the rear Aegis radar array, and I noticed all these dead birds all over the flight deck. It didn't take me too long to realize that these birds had flown in front of the radar and were more than likely microwaved to death. Thus, this gave me an idea. I figured if the heat works on birds, it should work on popcorn.

A microwave's a microwave, right? So the next time we pulled into port, I went and got some microwave popcorn. Unfortunately, my shopping trip coincided with, at the time, Super Bowl Sunday, so the microwave popcorn was gone, along with just about every other salty snack in the store. All they had left was Jiffy Pop. I didn't even know they still made Jiffy Pop. Anyway, science waits for no man, so I returned to the ship and stash the popcorn in my shop. During our next outing I begin my conjuration. I tied some string to the handle of the Jiffy Pop pan and snuck out onto the weather deck.

Just forward of my shop was a ladder that led to the deck that was overlooking the radar array. Normally it is closed off during radar operations for safety reasons so I climb up there and lower the Jiffy Pop down in front of the array. Boom. The Jiffy Pop explodes immediately, showering the flight deck with burned popcorn. I pull the burst pan up, wind up my string,

and chuck the entire apparatus over the side before running back into my shop. No sooner do I walk in the door, over the side before running back into my shop. No sooner do I walk in the door than the phone rings. It's CICS or the Control Center, also referred to as the War Room. The officer in charge wants me to go out on the weather deck and look behind us and tell him if anything's there. I do. There isn't, obviously, and I tell him so. He hangs up, swearing. Later that night, I heard about a story from a friend of mine who was in CICS at the time, acting as a radio man. It turns out that the Jiffy Pop pan had actually reflected the radar waves,

something I didn't even think about since the pan was made out of aluminum and metal. For those who aren't familiar with radar operation, a radar array sweeps back and forth, radiating waves the whole time. The waves are then reflected back to the array by anything they hit, such as planes, other ships, etc. When I lowered the pan down, the reflection falsely told the radar how big the object was and how far away it was. The problem, however, comes with the wavelengths involved. At too close of a distance, an object can show up on the radar as being at a different distance than it really is, or a different size. My jiffy pop pan appeared on the radar as a three mile wide contact, a hundred yards off the stern, and was only on screen for a couple of seconds

before disappearing. The office in charge was freaking out about it and had called up the Air Force to report a miscellaneous object. So, in the end, my curiosity about the microwave properties of an Aegis radar caused a US Navy warship to file a false UFO report. Of course, I kept my head down the rest of the time on board, and I didn't tell anyone I was a 20-year-old Croatian student looking for a summer job to get some cash before college starts. One day a friend that lives on one of the islands in Croatia tells me about a captain of a tourist ship who was looking for crew members. I've always liked boats and felt at peace when I was out in the waters, so this seems like the opportunity for me. I end up learning that there's only two people working on the boat, the captain and some friend of his.

Of course, the captain's buddy is good for nothing and only got the job because he's the captain's friend. The captain probably just wanted the company as he is a very experienced sailor who ended up teaching me everything. I work 12 hours every day, mostly alone because the other guy is always drunk or hungover and doesn't even show up. The pay isn't much and the job is even drunk or hungover and doesn't even show up. The pay isn't much and the job is even more difficult since I do 90% of the work. The captain has to steer the ship so he obviously can't help me. However, I still love every minute of it. When I get free time I talk with the tourists and try to score with the ladies. End of summer approaches and it's my last week on the ship so I give the captain my notice so he can find a replacement. He finds some chubby inexperienced kid to replace me and

asks me to teach him everything. I felt a little annoyed but also definitely felt good to pass down my knowledge that I learned first hand from the captain. At this point I haven't seen the buddy on the ship for a week now. So the kid is basically useless, but he's got heart, which I can respect. I try to teach him to tie the ropes after leaving port, but the kid just can't seem to get the hang of it. One day we sail out on strong winds and the captain puts me on horde control so tourists don't get jumpy. Meaning my hands are full and the kid is on his own. Meaning the kid has to tie ropes and well, he doesn't. We barely get off the coast when a Taurus accidentally knocks the rope over while nobody's watching. The rope then gets tied up in the propeller and the ship suddenly

stops. And now, we're adrift in the middle of nowhere and the wind is beginning to wreak havoc on us. The captain tells me to go under and cut the rope free. Now I don't know how deep it was where we were but the water was pitch black when looking from the ship. Nevertheless it was that or we drift for hours or sink due to wind. I take my shirt off and jump into the freezing water and the cap throws me the mask and a knife. I swim to the propeller and start cutting at the ropes when I begin to feel like there was this constant feeling that something is watching me. Not someone, something. I stop, come up for air as the rope was quite thick and that feeling fades away. I catch my breath and dive back down and look into the deep. All of a sudden, like a snap of your fingers,

the feeling is back. Something is down there and I begin to panic and I start cutting as fast as I can, looking around to see if I can find anything. Finally, I look down while cutting, and something big floats beneath me. The water was dark, but I clearly saw a shadowy figure move under me. I'm still panicking and cutting, and I end up slicing my hand, but the rope finally snaps. Whatever it was, it felt like Cthulhu itself was about to snatch me and tear me apart. I rip the rope from the propeller and swim to the surface. I don't even use the stairs, I just climb onto the ship using the anchor. And the captain looks at me and says,

Hey, what happened? You're bleeding, you okay? I don't answer, and the captain looks at my face and just goes silent. I guess I was in shock and had that thousand yard stare, and it almost seemed like he knew exactly why. Like he'd seen something before. He takes me to the ship hold as the tourists are cheering me like I saved the country or something. Meanwhile, I can't even get my breath back because of the fear that I felt. The captain patches me up and gives me the rest of the day off,

says he and the kid will take care of the horde and doesn't ask what happened. And the next day, I quit. The captain is sad but says he understands. But fast forward to two years, I've never stepped foot back on a ship after that experience. I have this massive fear of the depths and I can't even swim more than 100 meters from the shore before this deep anxiety kicks in. I even have nightmares about it, and of course, nobody believes me when I tell them. Maybe now I can finally understand the captain's buddy and why he was vanishing constantly. Maybe that's why he was drunk all the time. So yeah, I worked a dream summer job on a ship,

had to fix my replacements accident, saw an unexplainable figure in the deep void, and never went on the ship again, and went from loving the ocean in the deep blue to being completely petrified of simply swimming. I'm originally from Belarus, although I live in the United States now. I got my first job under the table in the early mid-90s. I was 12 to 13 and my job was being a helper in my father's barber shop. Mostly sweeping up hair, cleaning the bathroom, taking out trash, that sort of thing.

We lived, along with our shop, near the border with Poland. Lukashenko had just come to power and the Soviet Union had dissolved. These were very difficult times for everyone. Mass starvation and poverty swallowed the land. In fact, these problems still exist there today. But back to the story. I was at the barbershop with Papa, and we only really get the same few regulars since most people cut their own hair or have a family member do it. Maintaining a barbershop was really one of the only things possible during the Soviet Union. The day goes by and it's beginning to get dark. I'm told to clean up the shop, take out the trash, and then to come right home.

After being lectured, Papa leaves me alone in the barbershop to go drink by myself somewhere. I finish my chores, I lock the door, and finally begin walking home. Now, this is a pretty rural area, not exactly like the countryside, but everything is very spaced out. Hard to maintain a community around here so

everyone sort of sticks to their own privacy. As I'm walking home I realize that I forgot to take out the garbage and I turn around to go back. When I turn around I suddenly noticed a LADA, a rather popular Russian vehicle, had been driving behind me with no lights on. Actually I believe they were coasting as there were no sounds of the engine humming and we were also going slightly downhill. Since I'm going back my route, I'm now going uphill and the car passes me by and I feel somewhat at ease. Suddenly, the Lada gets to the bottom of the hill, cranks the engine on and makes a U-turn. They pull up beside me and

I can see that it's a man and a woman inside. The man driving asks me if I want to lift to my location but I tell them no thanks, that it's not far and that, well, they are severely creeping me out. They get offended that I told them they are creeping me out and begin to yell at me, calling me all sorts of nasty things, telling me they hope I slip and crack my head open. Figuring they were possibly just drunk, I tell them to F off and cut through the grass and trees and I get off the road. I take a shortcut through this little wooded area that eventually will link back to the street on the other side, but by that point, some time should pass. Yet when I get there, the lot of from before is now idling

on the road. I won't lie, at this point I'm getting extremely agitated. I come from a home with an alcoholic father and was sort of a slob squad. I was quite used to confronting adults and with my attitude, it also meant that I'd been getting beaten by adults as well. So these random people acting all tough didn't scare me so much. I know it's edgy, but I don't know. You get used to it. You can read a person on whether or not they're actually going to attack a child or not, and you'd be surprised by how many actually do.

Filled with anger, I walk up directly to the car and ask the man, Hey, what are you following me? You like me or something? You want me, huh? You want a kid? Why don't you go F your sister or whatever that is in there with you? Why don't you leave me alone? The man pauses for a second and puts his hand up to the window, holding a gun or something that looks like a gun. It was dark and I couldn't see very well.

He says, you can either have a good night or your last. If you get in the car, we can drive around a bit, have some vodka, have some fun. But if you don't, I'll kill you right here. Ironically, while I've been in fistfights with adults before, I've never been confronted with a gun. I don't know what to do at this point, but I know that there's no way I'm getting in this freak's car, and I hesitate for a moment before I say, okay, okay, I'll get in, and act like I'm going along with the plan. I go to the passenger side, and the woman gets out to let me in. I believe she was going to say something like, good boy, but as she got out of the car,

I kicked her in the leg as hard as I could and started running. She yelped and fell over and by the time they knew what happened, I was back in the trees. It was a circular wooded area that was surrounded by roads, sort of like a large roundabout, but I could get to the center where they couldn't see me. They wouldn't know which side I would come out on. So I sit and wait in the middle for a while before deciding enough time had passed and I come out the side nearest the barber shop. I sprint from the woods up the road into the shop. I unlock the door, jump inside, lock the door, and stay there for the entire night. In the morning, my father showed up to the shop

and beat me for never coming home. I tried to explain what happened with the kidnapped attempt and even tried describing the car, but he got even angrier. He just accused me of lying, saying that I was using what I saw in the news to make up a lie. Yeah, by the way, this is unfortunately common. Not an everyday thing, but it got to the point that reported kidnappings were as common as car break-ins in America, if you want a comparison. Apparently these two had gone around the whole village, asking any kids they saw if they wanted a lift, and there were reports of them making threats, etc. The exact profile of what happened to me. After my experience, I paid close attention to the news in hopes of

these people getting caught, but instead I only read headlines about children going missing, and how there was an abundance of missing kids from the past few months. It was assumed that the children had their organs harvested, or were trafficked to other countries, or were killed and eaten in response to the mass starvation. Unless you were like my family or were relatively wealthy by the standards of the day, it was very likely that you didn't eat much, stationed at Fort Benning in Georgia. In Georgia, there can be a load of completely random thunderstorms in the summer. They really do just come out of nowhere.

The sky can be blue and sunny with barely a single cloud in the sky, and then 20 minutes later, you would think you're in the worst storm of your life. When these storms approach, the base would issue lightning warnings. They would blow their air sirens, and all personnel on the base were supposed to get inside for safety. We were out in the field doing some pre-deployment tasks and were heading in to get cover. As we were in the middle of doing that, a soldier about 50 meters away all of a sudden got struck by lightning. It was hands down one of the most disturbing things I'd ever seen. To watch a man, a human being, just get slaughtered by something no one had control

over within milliseconds. He had a family too, and he was a good dad and husband which just made it even worse. After the fact, I wasn't aware the effects of getting struck by lightning could vary. Many people actually survived with some degrees of burns and scars. Not him. He was completely turned inside out and unrecognizable. Even though we knew who he was, obviously they still had to identify the body via dental records. That's just how torn apart he was. Speaking of spontaneity, people also need to be more concerned with lake trips and vacations. It's not as wonderful as commercials and advertisements

make them out to be. People need to remember that anything can happen at any time on any day, and sometimes for seemingly no reason at all. It's just fate, I guess. For example, I used to work at this park with a lake as a main attraction. One day it was really peaceful out in the lake. The park wasn't packed, which was surprising. And then boom, all of a sudden, a dude drowned after falling out of his paddle boat. The death itself was already horrible, but what made it even more morbid was that he was there with a school group for their last summer vacation, along with his family too. So I experienced not only a dead body but also ended up seeing young children coming to grips with human death for the first time.

One of the friends of the deceased tried to fight with the park rangers because he thought they didn't try hard enough. To be fair, they tried the best they could and the friend had to be dragged away by police. Another girl had told the deceased to wear a life jacket, which he didn't, and ended up blaming herself for not pressing the issue hard enough. One of the guys who ran the boat's rental heroically dove into the lake to pull up a girl, who was also without a life jacket, that was in the boat with the deceased when they fell, and he no doubt saved her life. When the family of the deceased finally saw the confirmation of the body,

they almost immediately began wailing and howling in remorse, forming a tight circle to provide some measure of support. A crowd had gathered to watch the police fish the poor guy out of the lake, then a fight broke out because someone was smoking and another took offense. There really isn't an end to the story. They took his body out of the lake and then everyone reacted in whatever ways their brain enforced. Anger, dread, and grief, when it was supposed to be simply some kid's classroom's last day of school before their big summer break. Several years ago, my dad broke into an abandoned house in our neighborhood on a somewhat drunken impulse. While there, he claimed to have heard a disembodied voice speaking in Japanese, only to find out later that the last occupant of the house was indeed Japanese.

We lived in a town with a pretty much non-existent Asian community and the house had laid empty for years since the occupant's death in the house. If he did not hear a ghost in that house, then I don't know what it could have been. He fled the house that night with a single trophy of his escapade, an old vintage metal pitcher. For years after this, the pitcher rested on a shelf in her house with no incident. However, the incident started after my parents divorced. My siblings and I were all adults at this point, out of the house and on our own. The divorce was messy and full of emotional distress and my mother was left alone in the house. That was when the incidents began. For weeks, my mother would hear strange noises and banging sounds emanating from the room where the picture was kept.

They only stopped when my brother took the picture and kept it in his apartment which he shared with a girlfriend. Seemingly like before, nothing happened until my brother and his girlfriend hit what he described as a rough patch. They experienced the same strange sounds and banging noises in this time of anger and sadness which began to suggest a correlation. Emotional distress triggers or fuels the strange occurrences. I myself took the picture next. I shared a house with several other people and though there was plenty of emotional distress, I can't say for certain that I experienced anything. Of course there were enough odd noises and banging sounds from more natural sources that I'm not sure I would have noticed if there was anything to experience.

Everything would have just blended together for me. I moved out of the house to live with my current girlfriend, leaving the picture behind and more or less forgetting about it until a few days ago. Recently, there has been a new development. I recently hired one of my former roommates who was ignorant of the picture's history and did in fact barely know it existed. We were talking about weird memories and unsettling things and he told me of something he couldn't explain. With working two jobs my former roommate, who we'll call Charlie, keeps odd hours and sleeps whenever he catches a chance.

Recently Charlie was awakened by sounds from the living room. It seemed to sound like another roommate, who we'll call Ashley, talking to someone. He said he distinctly heard two voices. Charlie told me he was confused because it was very late and he was unaware of any visitors. He stepped out into the hall, just in time to see Ashley step into her bedroom, followed by a tall figure dressed in black. Charlie thought it was a friend of theirs named David and asked Ashley about it the next day. Confused, she told him David didn't visit last night. In fact, no one did and that she went to her bedroom alone.

Charlie told her that he could hear them talking, before Ashley staggered out saying that she could actually hear Charlie talking to someone at roughly the same exact time. She too heard two distinct voices, only they seemed to be coming from his bedroom. So as far as I know, this is the first time anyone has seen any sort of apparition relating to the picture, but Ashley's bedroom is right next to the laundry room, which is where I left the picture. I told him to bring the picture up to work on his next scheduled day. If he does, I'll follow up with another thread, maybe get a Ouija board and hold a seance or something. I'm open to suggestions.

No one has yet tried to actually evoke any sort of haunting from this thing, but I intend to try. Idaho is the scariest place that you have never given a second thought about. First off, there are about one and a half million people in a landmass that's about half the square mileage of California. That's not a lot of people. About 90% of the state is wilderness. I mean, you could easily hide a body here and it's doubtful anyone would come across it anytime soon, if you went deep enough. A few things off the top of my head, there are at least two military caches in the state. According to my aunt, who works for the Forest Service, she had to visit one while enlisted and has since been back for some reason while being in the Forest Service. She says that since World War II, the United States has hidden caches of arms in the state

to be used in a guerrilla warfare campaign if we were ever invaded. Speaking of which, the Idaho National Laboratory is federally funded and where the first nuclear power was ever generated to power a city. They keep that place under lock and key and there are rumored UFO sightings all the time. The hometown was about 50 miles away from that place and a wave of silent hovering triangles were reported a few years back. Most of the time, people would describe them heading from the west in the same direction as the laboratory site. My own UFO sighting, which got me interested in the

paranormal, was part of this flap. And of course, it was heading from the west, passed over silently and low, and went east towards Wyoming. Further on the INL, someone close to me who was formerly in the Air Force was driving home through the desert after a trip to the western half of the state. For reference, State Highway 33 runs parallel with the southern border of the INL site for many miles. It's eerie out there, no towns for 30 miles and nothing but sagebrush. So he comes across this scene that was totally lit up by floodlights when he was right on the border of the INL site. He then blinked and somehow, half an hour of time had suddenly passed. He only talked to me about this once. Continuing from that UFO incident, I

became quite the explorer of the paranormal through my late teens. Naturally, I segued into ghost hunting eventually. I spent a lot of time hunting for ghosts, and I can tell you that some places are genuinely haunted, and yes, some are complete hoaxes. There are many places that are haunted that you would never expect around Idaho, but there is one place I'll never go alone, and I doubt I would go period. Little Butte Cemetery is a place not to be taken lightly.

Typically, cemeteries are places that are pretty peaceful, and most stories of hauntings there are fabrications. This cemetery, though, an exception can be made. It's filled with spirits, mostly mundane, probably people that have passed that are lost. I know that there are child spirits there, or at least something that is very good at mimicking a child. But there is one spirit there that is particularly frightening. He appears as a well-built, vaguely hooded, almost seven foot shadow figure. Unfortunately, my fellow ghost hunter friends and I attracted this thing to us for a few

months. I think it could be a guardian spirit but most likely I think it's a malevolent spirit that feeds on fear. It followed us for a while, we'd see it standing on street corners and buildings for months. After a while I think we stopped giving it what it wanted and haven't seen it for about eight years now, thankfully. Many people have gone to this place to investigate since then and I won't lie, I like to feel that I turned it into

an urban legend of sorts. That thing has become something of a legend. There's many other hauntings throughout the state, not all I've checked out. Boise's Egyptian theater is extremely haunted, as is the state penitentiary. Near Preston, there was an Indian massacre near the turn of the century and now on the site you can hear crying and sometimes see apparitions. I could go on, but suffice to say that nearly every town has that place or story, sometimes multiple ones. I'm sure that you have all figured out that I'm from the eastern half of the state. For whatever reason, East Idaho has had tons of reports of satanic or pagan activity,

at least since the late 80s. Now I know what you're thinking, that's just a byproduct of the satanic panic, a hokey urban legend because everyone saw Satan everywhere at that time in a place known for its Mormon extremism. But the stories keep popping up and have been for 30 years, at least until the late 2000s. One example comes from a friend from school. He lived way out in the boonies, about 10 miles out of town. He came across a group of people on his land, all wearing robes and chanting. They were in the process of killing all his hens, nailing them to trees. He grabbed his gun and took a shot at them and they took off. This guy was a straight shooter, a bit of a redneck with not much of an imagination so I do lean towards believing this

story. Another anecdote comes from his friend's uncle. We got on this topic one night and he got very somber and proceeded to tell us about his experience. Similar to my friend, the uncle came across a group in the late 80s performing some sort of ritual on his property, north of Idaho Falls at the time. He took a running start with a rebel yell to tackle at least one of them and they took off at what he described an inhuman speed. One that he was chasing jumped over a chain link fence in one bound. Either Satan has an Olympian for a homeboy or something more sinister was going on. You could tell this genuinely scared him and I knew him very well, he is not a person to take lightly. Stories like this are all over eastern Idaho,

of occult groups making their presence known in the boonies. It seems a lot of the old timers in town have anecdotes like these ones, so either it's actually happening, or a lot of people are lying. I barely remember being six. I barely remember first grade or what my favorite shirt was, but I do remember when I met the man who borrowed our sleeping bags. My dad is a very wonderful, kind man and always has been. So when one of his best friends asked if his brother could borrow some camping equipment for the weekend, my dad instantly helped. Charles came over and I floating beside my dad wondering in my six-year-old brain what he was up to without me. He let Charles borrow a few sleeping bags along with some other items.

I live in Washington state and it tends to rain a lot here so he said that he'd be camping out in his van. My dad saw him off and that was that for a few days. Now Charles was a piece of work. A few nights later he went to a party where bountiful amounts of meth was provided along with whatever else. Two homes sat beside each other so the adults left the sleeping kids in one house and continued the party at the other. Charles left the party and decided that he would go next door. He knocked on the window of Kayla, a six-year-old girl who knew Charles well. He told her that he had a new puppy and wanted her to see. He led her to the van and you can see where this was going. Charles brutally murdered Kayla, stuffed her in one of our sleeping bags and headed to our house. He pulled up at around 10pm or so asking my dad for gas money.

Now my father doesn't get mad often but this infuriated him. He yelled, what are you doing here? My children are sleeping and my wife is here, you need to leave. I don't have any money for you. Charles said a few more things to my dad and took off in his van, you need to leave. I don't have any money for you. Charles said a few more things to my dad and took off in his van, high as a kite, and the whole time having Kayla inside his van, deceased. A few days later, my mom and dad saw our sleeping bags on the news as evidence in the murder, and my parents instantly called 911 and gave them all the information they could. My parents ended up testifying in court about it that night.

Even though they were together at that point, this was something very important for them to attend regardless of their dislike for the other. I remember my mom crying saying Kayla and I were the same age. That it was devastating that she lost her life so young and in such a brutal manner. I met Charles that day when he came to our house. I remember him. I remember everything about this murder because my mom made sure I never misunderstood what people would do. You can find my dad and mom in the court hearing information in a local paper at the time for the testimony that they'd given. I always think about Kayla.

How she would have looked if she would have had kids. I never met Kayla, but she has been a very important part of my life and others. You can't trust others all the time, especially not around your children. To be continued... Hey friends, thanks for listening. Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7pm EST. 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

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