The Lets Read Podcast - 220: MY DOG SAVED ME | 25 True Scary Stories | EP 208

Episode Date: January 2, 2024

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Tailgating, Dogs Saving The Day, & Blackouts... 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

In In the fall of 2015, I was a freshman at a small Texas college popular for its viticulture program. Viticulture, for those unaware, is the science of cultivating and harvesting grapes for the sole purpose of winemaking. Many don't realize Texas has a thriving winemaking industry. The Spanish, who first brought the practice to this part of the New World, are said to have been producing wines in the El Paso area as far back as the 1650s. By 2019, the state ranked as the fifth largest wine-producing state in the country. I had become interested in the business in my teens after seeing a documentary chronicling the French side of the market. I had become interested in the business in my teens after seeing a documentary chronicling the French side of the market. Then a few years later, my passion was rekindled after

my first taste at a New Year's party. The complex flavor coming from something so apparently simple on the surface, it blew my mind. I became obsessed with knowing how it was done and that's how I ended up at this school. If I wanted, I could go on about wine all day, but that's not why I'm here. Instead, my purpose is to share a scary incident that I had and maybe teach an important lesson in the process. This story actually begins the summer before I went away. As soon as I received the formal notification that I was accepted, my parents started making plans. They had dreamed of traveling like when they were young and with me out of the house, they prepared for a long worldwide trip.

I had no objections. I probably should have thought a little more about it before giving approval though. And not too long before I wanted to leave, I asked what day they wanted me to arrive for the Christmas holiday. They both looked at me and laughed. I was confused and asked what was going on. That moment would be the first time I discovered just how vile they truly were. As unknown to me, they fully intended to travel the world indefinitely. And this was a big shock. My parents were my only family, and without them I would have to celebrate everything alone. I felt completely abandoned. I said this, but was given a nonchalant

brush off of, just go stay with a friend or something. When I reminded them that I had no friends left in the area, they told me that I was being dramatic and just kind of wandered off. And this event only served to further damage the already weak relationship that there had been between us for quite some time. After all the problems with my parents, I was happy when it came time to leave. They couldn't get away fast enough in my mind. I was dropped off and left with little more than a short good luck. And that would be the last time that I'd set eyes on them for four years until they showed up for my graduation unannounced. Without knowing when I'd see my family again, I had no other choice but to make a new one of my own.

I began by attempting to befriend my roommate, Shelby, but she wasn't interested. She had come from an affluent Houston suburb. Her neighbors were ex-presidents and billionaires, and I had no hope of ever matching her standards. We kept away from each other for the most part and had very few arguments. I would do better as the semester continued. Classes kept me occupied and the few friends I had made were kind to me. Many of those I was introduced to early on were foreign students from countries like Nigeria. Among them was Benjamin. He had been sent to America to get a business degree. He was very intelligent and nice, yet most of the other Nigerians didn't like him,

and I soon discovered why. On occasions when I was speaking to other people, he would stand across the room and just kind of stare coldly. His expression made my skin crawl, and I began to feel his icy gaze everywhere I went. Even when I couldn't see him, I just kind of knew he was there. Yet if he passed close by you, he'd say hello and strike up a regular friendly conversation. I remained on friendly terms with him even though I often felt uneasy in his presence. The Christmas holiday soon arrived and I found myself alone in the dorms along with many of the other foreign students. Those of us who celebrated the holiday got

together on Christmas Eve and had a party. Benjamin was one of those who attended. I engaged in the holiday spirit and invited him in to join me. The other students had been shunning him, I guess. I understood why, but it was Christmas after all. Nobody should be alone. Benjamin was his normal kind self, and we joined along with the remaining students and had a great time. Festivities would wind down at about 2am when everyone staggered back to their rooms. Christmas Day was relatively quiet. Those who could spent the day with friends in town. I called it up with a

book and watched a few movies. That night, the temperatures dropped well below freezing. According to the radio, many cities in the northern area of the state were without power. We have been fortunate not to experience this. Things remained quiet until the next day and I had stayed in my room until around dinner time when I got a major craving for pizza. I assumed at least a few other students would want some too. I came across about 15 students in the common room and asked if any of them wanted to chip in and six of them said yes. We were putting together the order when the power went off. Someone went to check the extent of the outage and found that it was only in the school.

A low grumbling began among some of those present. A few were afraid that we were going to freeze to death, although I doubted this was going to happen, it was a possibility I guess. We'd been left to our own devices, the staff would be gone until the new year and that included anyone capable of fixing the electricity. By now, the room was full. A loud argument broke out and the whole situation became a giant racket, and out of nowhere, Benjamin spoke up and volunteered to fix the problem. He was confident that it was probably a blown fuse or something and they wouldn't take a minute to replace. A few of us were skeptical, but he managed to convince us.

He seemed to know what he was talking about. And now that we had a plan, Benjamin asked if a few of us would join him to look for the fuses. I volunteered along with three others. We spent the better part of an hour just looking for the box. The job was made all that much harder because we were using the lights on our cell phones. Benjamin opened the cover and confirmed the fuse was the culprit. Now, the search began for the fuses. This was a much easier undertaking.

There was a cabinet stocked with about five and was only a few feet away. Even in the darkness of the room, Benjamin seemed to gleam with pride. And this was his chance to show the others, especially his fellow Nigerians, that he had something beneficial to provide to them. I can only speculate this was his original motivation for volunteering in the first place, which is why what was to come next was that much sadder. Now armed with all we needed, Benjamin asked me to shine my light into the fuse box. I stood off to the side and focused the beam directly on his hands as he worked. Maybe a minute had passed by when someone behind me asked me a question. I turned my head slightly toward them to answer and heard a pop. The pop was followed by a low humming noise.

When I looked back at Benjamin, his body had taken on a tight, upright stance and his jaw was clenched and rigid. The humming got gradually louder until a second louder pop happened. At this point, Benjamin limply dropped to the floor and lay there silent. I was initially reluctant to touch him out of fear of being shocked myself, but I overcame it and checked for a pulse. I was unable to find one, and I just immediately began giving him CPR and did for several minutes before someone suggested that we just call 911. I'd been so freaked out that I'd just completely forgotten. It took about 15 minutes for the paramedics to find us, but they had Benjamin picked up and away quickly once they had. The blackout took a backseat after that. Ten or so of us packed into the two cars available and

hurried to the hospital, arriving within minutes of Benjamin. We all waited patiently for over an hour for news of his condition and when it finally came in, it was not the result we'd hoped for. Despite working on him for a long time, the doctors were unable to restart his heart. The electricity had done just too much damage, apparently, and more than a few tears were shed even among those who apparently disliked him. And the ride back was quiet. Upon returning we realized our power problem still existed. Nobody was willing to risk their lives to fix it though. I doubt any of us had a clue how to do it anyway.

I took the initiative and called a few electricians listed on Google. One of them was willing to come out and help us and he arrived within the hour and had the lights back on before sunrise. The rest of the break went off without any trouble. The staff were all stunned about what we had to deal with in their absence. And because of that year's tragedy, from then on, a few members of staff were required to remain on campus during the holiday breaks in case of complications like the one we had. Some other good things would also come from this.

Benjamin was heralded as a hero, sacrificing his life for the well-being of the students and giving him the respect that he lacked in life. His father was quoted as saying his son knew little to nothing about electricity. The Nigerian students used him as an example of their bravery and selflessness. The irony was not lost on me, but I held my tongue. After all, I think Benjamin would have been happy to know that he'd finally won his fellow Nigerian's respect. There have been a few instances where I questioned if I may have been complicit in his death,

and perhaps I moved the light and this caused the accident, but considering Benjamin probably had no clue what he was doing, I try to put such thoughts out of my mind. Now to wrap this up, I thought I'd mention that my remaining years at the college were Benjamin probably had no clue what he was doing. I try to put such thoughts out of my mind. Now to wrap this up, I thought I'd mention that my remaining years at the college were far less dramatic. My second year, I had a friend with an amazing family that allowed me to share the holidays with them, and I've come to regard them as much more as family than my real parents ever had been. I graduated in 2019 and was ready to begin a job with a small Texas winery until the pandemic came around. My plans were put on hold for over an entire year, but I'm pleased to say that the family that owned the winery called me as soon as things opened back up and renewed their

offer. It's been an amazing job so far. I may go as far as saying that I'm slowly becoming a Texan, but land here is breathtaking and when compared with Vermont, the weather is a lot better, minus the occasional freak ice storm. And that's it for me. I hope you learned from my experience and think twice before messing with things you don't really understand. A force such as electricity is nothing to be playing with. Just please be careful when doing it yourself. If you ever feel like you're out of your depth, don't hesitate to call for help. There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I don't wish 19 year old me would have done

just that. My childhood was a long and difficult one. Both of my parents were alcoholics and drug addicts well into my thirties. I'm going to be vague about my hometown. The name doesn't matter anyway. Just another dead-end suburb nestled on the outskirts of a much larger festering dump of crime and good days long past. I witnessed countless numbers of overdoses and domestic battery. Neither parent was capable of holding down anything more than low-paying part-time employment. Even then, none lasted very long. I was little more than a burden, often going several days without any substantial food. I was regularly sent to school in dirty,

threadbare clothes, and as you can imagine, the other kids mocked me relentlessly. Remember the stinky kid at your school everyone laughed at? Well, that was me at mine. All the adults around me saw how I was being treated, but maybe two teachers I can recall doing anything for me. I believe I had done something to deserve it and it took a long time for me to shake that feeling. And now that I've told you all of this, I want to make something clear. I don't include it to gain your sympathy. It only serves to explain why I found myself in the coming situation and what incidents drove me to that point. Don't feel

sorry for me. I've gone on to make a great life for myself. I've got a beautiful family, including a wonderful wife and three happy children. I've achieved everything I dreamed of one day having, and all before the age of 50. My life is a success story that I wish more people could achieve. But enough about me though. You're here for the real story. Now by my early teens, I was beginning to get into trouble with the law. My parents had split when I was around 12 or so and I got even more lost in the shuffle. I saw all the rich kids at school with their fancy polo shirts and guest jeans and I fantasized about having the same things. I began shoplifting what I wanted and wearing it to school. This drew the ire of those

same kids who knew better than I did that I didn't belong in their little club. Shoplifting grew into other petty crimes. Others took note and I attracted like-minded kids to me. Our bad habits rubbed off on each other and we all became the crew of pot-smoking juvenile delinquents everyone had expected us to become. I would be passed between each parent like a joint at a party. Anytime I'd be picked up by the cops, I'd be pawned off on the other parent. Neither of them paid me any attention while they had me. I was left on my own to provide for myself. In addition to material things like clothes, I'd also lift stuff like deodorant and cologne.

I taught myself how to better groom myself and I'd eventually shake the reputation as the stinky kid. By then, I was already well known as a thug and stoner. I embraced this moniker with all my heart and leaned into it as far as possible. Like the other losers that I hung out with, I became a dropout. I was a 17-year-old senior at the time. I was called to the office, not an unusual thing for me, and I was told that I wasn't going to graduate. It was a big shock. Although I did my fair share of ditching class, I always did my work when I was there. To my knowledge, my grades were decent, but after seeing them all combined, I realized that I was wrong. I put up a bold front and pretended I didn't care, but below the surface, I felt devastated.

And finally, I was officially the loser everyone always thought that I was. And the next day I just slept until noon. My parents didn't notice until a lot later which by then was far too late. I wasn't the first to drop out after all. My mom had done the same thing when she got pregnant with me at 16. And they both put up this big production pretending like they cared but it was forgotten about within days without anything to occupy my days i started spending all my time with my friends it was just one long episode of drinking smoking and getting in trouble i was dealing a little pot and acid by then and had no need to

work i wouldn't have passed the drug test even if I wanted to. I was happy wasting my time at the abandoned gas station that we had made our little hangout, and the business always had been in a bad location, off to itself in a sort of industrial area. On the other hand, it was perfect for us. We were able to keep some scavenged furniture there to lounge around on, and a few of us would crash there on occasion. In the five years that we hung out there, the cops never bothered us once. For kids with screwed up home lives, it was a paradise on earth, an idyllic getaway from the turmoil of the outside world. It was one of those lazy days which we found ourselves feeling restless and bored.

Several ideas were brought forth and discussed until we chose the best one. It was to be an exploration of another nearby building. The Semco building once housed two stories of offices and was the headquarters of Semco Shipping until 1988. The company went into bankruptcy that same year and the building was abandoned. At the time, it was owned by the city and would occasionally host a flea market there. The flea market never got anywhere, but some vendors were said to still store items in the building. Our two goals were to steal anything we deemed as valuable and to explore. It would be a virgin territory.

That day, there were three of us. We loaded a few flashlights and sodas into a backpack and headed out. If we made a big score, the short distance between the buildings wouldn't make carrying our haul much of a chore, but we had to get in first. We got lucky. We found an unlocked window and climbed in. I suggest that we stay together. We checked door after door until we came to the flea market area. The stories just turned out to be BS. The only thing that remained was some folded tables along the walls and a refrigerator. I checked the refrigerator in the vain hope someone had left some beer behind or something, and all I found was a very expired jug of milk from the

year before. I didn't dare open it, and something struck me though. The refrigerator was still running. Now keep the jokes to yourself, please. If so, the electricity must be on. I told one of the guys to flip the switch on the wall and the lights came on. This would make our search safer and much easier for sure. From the market area, we went from office to office. Most, if not all, were empty save for a desk or table. The conference rooms were the same. We took the stairs to the second floor. Without any people in the building, an eerie feeling hung in the air. The hum of the fluorescent

fixtures was almost deafening. As I stepped out onto the second floor, the feeling changed into one of dread. I wasn't sure why, but something inside me was urging me to leave. I could see no reason to, and therefore I disregarded my gut and carried on. The overall condition of the upper floor was far more dilapidated than the first. The last residents of the building looked to have been using the space for storage. The first two rooms we encountered were large conference spaces packed with folding chairs and tables. The largest of the two also housed several old and yellowed computers. Even in 1993 when this took place, they were clearly outdated.

I stayed behind and dug through the rooms in search of something of value while the other two went ahead. I was flipping over tables when I heard my name. I walked down the hall a few offices when I saw my two friends looking down at something. I walked into the office and one of them pointed down. On the floor, there was a sleeping bag and some worn out blankets. I thought nothing of it. So what? Some homeless guy's been sleeping up here, that's hardly anything unknown. I'm surprised we haven't found more stuff like this. For all we know, it's the Hilton for the homeless. My friend huffed and told me to look again.

This time, I noticed a torn up t-shirt and bra just a few feet away, and there were a pair of jeans that looked to belong to a small female. None of this was odd either. However, the rust-colored stains on the crotch and legs were. I could only guess that they were blood. We were speculating about their possible cause when the building went pitch black. I took off my pack and dug around for my flashlight until I located it. I turned it on and scanned the room, and the others did the flashlight until I located it. I turned it on and scanned the room. The others did the same. I guess it was a trip breaker or fuse or something.

Either way, it was likely and the other two agreed but brought up how strange the timing was. I chuckled and recommended that we try to find the fuse box. We had just stepped out into the hall when the screaming started. It seemed to be coming from a few offices away. We stared at each other, eyes as big as saucers, shocked at the noise. Around the second passed and the screaming began again, but this time the person said, Help me. It was obviously a woman and she sounded terrified and desperate.

And being the stupid kid I was, I panicked and ran, my companions following close behind me, and the screams continued all the way to the exit, almost taunting us. We made our way down the stairs and out the way we came in less than a minute. Outside, a sense of relief washed over me. It was like I'd just awakened from a terrible nightmare. We returned to the gas station and discussed what had just happened. Calling the cops was suggested, but one of the guys reminded the others that we were high, and knowing the police as well as we did, they'd be more than likely to lock us up than check it out.

There was also the possibility that we'd be blamed for what happened if they find anything. It just didn't seem worth it at the time, so we made a pact and never discussed it again. To my knowledge, this is the first time anyone but my wife has heard this story. Months would pass and actually go on to become years. One of the guys moved on to bigger crimes and ultimately got life for killing a couple during a home invasion. The other guy moved off to Chicago in his early 20s. I have no idea what became of him. As for myself, I finally got things on track. I quit drinking and getting high at 22. I got my GED about the same time and then attended a college in Florida. My interest in the unknown drove me to become an archaeologist, believe it or not, and now I work for the state. Anytime a bone or

artifact is found on a construction site, I'm one of the people that goes in and checks it out. Like I mentioned earlier, my life has turned out quite well. I have no regrets, but that one. Running away that day has haunted me ever since. I can't be sure if it wasn't somebody trying to scare us, but at least in my drug-addled mind, it seemed real. A few years later, the building was demolished and there were rumors of a skull being found, but they could just be that, rumors. It's impossible to know unless I start asking questions and I've thought about it, but after all this time, it's probably best that things stay buried. This story is going to have to serve as my confession.

I was a coward and ran away as a woman begged for help. That's a fact. But I hope, now that the truth is out in the open, that the sins of my past won't follow me to my grave. I'm a 20-year-old male living in a small town in Texas. My family has been below or just on the poverty line for most of my life. Things were slightly better while my dad was around to help, but he had a bad habit of getting put in jail. He would go on to leave permanently when I was about 12.

My mom was left alone to raise two kids. My mom's mom would often babysit us during the summers until we got old enough to take care of ourselves. Now for me, that was 15. My sister was a few years older and was already working, and as soon as I could, I got a job too. I stayed busy between school and work, but managed to graduate with pretty good grades. I toyed with the idea of going to college, but I felt a debt to my mother for keeping us fed and sheltered and all that good stuff,

and I chose to forego school for a few years so I could pay back my mom for all her hard work. Since graduating, I've been able to work more hours. I put the so-called extra money into finding us a bigger apartment. Sharing a two-bedroom with two other people was less than ideal. Although selfish on my part, I dreamed of a place where we could all have our own bedrooms. I had been sleeping on the couch for at least three years but was able to sleep on my sister's bed on the nights that she was with her boyfriend. As a whole, things could have been a lot worse. At one time,

we were all crammed into one bedroom. My mother and sister had to share a room. This was a source of constant friction between them. I didn't mind sacrificing my own wants over the needs of my own mother and sister and I discovered how important it is for women to have their own spaces. Sleeping in the living room was a small thing when compared to the chaos that I had to endure before. My search lasted for almost a month but I was fortunate to find a place just in time. The complex was a bit drab and the apartment was somewhat outdated, but it met all our needs. We got all our stuff packed up and moved with 24 hours to spare. Almost immediately problems began to crop up, many of them small.

The faucets had low pressure and the toilet was constantly clogged. We got used to these types of things but the bigger ones, like the neighbors, were a different story. As an example, the people we shared a wall with made noise 24 hours a day. Their children spent a large amount of time on their own. Kids as young as 4 often came to our door asking for food. When the adults were around, they would sometimes lock the children outside by themselves. When this happened, the kids would run around yelling and throwing trash everywhere. I don't really blame the kids, but it didn't make the situation any less annoying. Probably the biggest of the problems involved someone called Marcel.

He lived in an apartment across from us and spent much of his time outside in a cheap plastic lawn chair smoking. Smoking wasn't Marcel's only vice though. He also loved little women, especially blonde ones. Unfortunately for my sister, she met both of those parameters. Almost from the day he first saw her, Marcel was constantly harassing her. She tried taking it in stride. He wasn't aggressive, just overly flirtatious. His behavior amounted to little more than catcalls and whistles. It was nothing my sister hadn't experienced before. Things stayed this way for a while, but then she began bringing other guys around, and Marcel got very upset by this new development. He started calling her a tease. She tried to do as she always had and just ignore it but

Marcel wouldn't let things rest. One night in particular, my sister was talking to her then boyfriend in the parking lot and Marcel started a fight with the guy. Fortunately, nothing really came of it. The guy got in his car and left. It set a scary precedent nonetheless and from there on, my sister avoided Marcel like the plague. He would ask me about her, but I just played dumb, and it was beginning to look as if things were going to quietly blow over, but then the power went out, and Marcel pounced. It's been two weeks since it happened. My sister and I were home preparing dinner when the power went off. I took a quick walk around the complex and realized it was limited to the community.

All the streetlights and stop signals were still working fine, and my next step was calling the power company. This was when I discovered the horrible truth. After almost an hour on the phone, I was told the company that owned the complex hadn't paid the bill for almost four months. All the bills were supposed to be covered by them. Therefore, we were left powerless to do anything. I called mom and filled her in on our problem.

We discussed it and decided to grab a motel for a few days until it could be resolved. I let my sister know and we began packing. We were in the process of bringing our bags to the car when it happened. I was inside and my sister was outside. I heard a screaming for help and I could tell it was my sister. I ran outside and I saw Marcel trying to hold her down. He was attempting to wrap duct tape around her mouth and control her at the same time. My sister was fighting like a wild cat but Marcel was just too strong for her. He was too busy wrestling with her to notice me approaching. I ran up and soccer kicked him across the face as hard as I could. He was flung onto his back and I stood over him while my sister ran for the car. He was clearly unconscious. I suppose he could have been

dead but I didn't really care in that moment. Once I was sure he was no longer a threat, I hopped into the car and we drove straight to the nearest police station. My sister still had duct tape in her hair when we approached the desk. We told our story and they promised to check it out. The cops took some pictures of my sister's cuts and bruises. They suggested we go to the hospital, but we didn't see it as necessary. Instead, we found a motel and got us some rooms. A few hours passed, and we got a call from the police updating us. They had questioned Marcel about the attack, and he tried to deny it ever happened.

The problem was that he had a massive mark across his face from where I kicked him, and he was asked about it but couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer. As a result, they decided to arrest him, and to my knowledge, he's still there right now. We had waited to tell mom until she left work. She was upset, as you would expect, but relieved that Marcel was finally being punished. Another unexpected side effect occurred as a result of our problem with Marcel. Some of the tenants of our complex used the arrival of the police as an opportunity to air some of their grievances with the apartment management. For a lot of people,

the power outage was just another symptom of the company's terrible treatment of its tenants. I've already mentioned our problems, but it seems we may have been the lucky ones. Some of the people living in the lower-lying areas have been suffering from multiple instances of flooding. The rain would pool in their porches between the buildings and flow into their patio doors and flood their apartments. And it didn't stop there, though. The sewer lines would occasionally back up and residents would have sewage flood into their apartments. And this happened to several people just while we were there. It was all too much to ignore even for the cops. They contacted the proper people at the city and they came to look around. By the end of the same

day, the complex was deemed a health hazard and the residents were all moved out. Some went to stay with friends and family but most have ended up in motels like us. As things stand now, we're in a motel but I have found us another place in a better area and we'll be moving in this coming week. On the downside, it's only a two bedroom. I'll be back on the couch for six months but it's better than our present predicament. Even if the closing of the complex hadn't happened, there was no way we were going back there. It was nothing but trouble from the start, and a lot of our neighbors were lowlifes. The final straw would have been Marcel living just yards from us after what we'd done,

and right now it's still too early to say what's going to happen with him legally. I've been assured that he will receive some amount of prison time, and I hope it's a long time. And that's about it for me. If there's any major news I may update this post but for the time being we all just wanted to move on. I do dream that one day I'm successful enough to get a nice little house for my mom. She hasn't lived in one since she was a kid and I think it would be the perfect gift. She has sacrificed so much to keep us together and safe, and it would surely give my sister and I comfort to know that she's taken care of after we had moved on to start our own families.

Until then, I'm going to focus on the road ahead and do my best. And thank you all for listening. I've read several encounters like mine here. Even though my version ends the same way as most, I've decided to include it anyway. I don't think my story is any more special or important than others. I simply want people to see how common incidents of this kind really are. Most people I talk to don't seem to understand just how easily they can become a victim of a crime. My hope is that if my story is added to the many others on the internet, maybe just a few will grasp the seriousness of the crime problem in America

and prepare themselves. To provide a bit of context, I was 15 when this happened. As of today, I'm 24. Back then, my parents were very reluctant to allow me any freedoms. Other kids my age already had phones and went to concerts. Going back as young as 13, I'd been bugging them to let me stay at home alone. Most of my babysitters weren't much older than me, and it was embarrassing and unnecessary. Every year, I kept expecting them to ease up, but they wouldn't or couldn't, and by 15 I'd had enough. There was no reasonable excuse for me to have a babysitter, and it all came to a head when they were discussing their anniversary. Every year they would go out

and have a meal to celebrate. No problem there, I was lucky to have a stable home life. However, when the subject of a babysitter was brought up, I exploded. I was fed up. I was not a baby. I could cook for myself, do my own laundry, and wake up for school without being told. Their coddling of me was over. I made it clear that I was grown up and the babysitter crap was over once and for all. Neither of them said anything at first. They looked at one another briefly and my father turned to me and smiled. Okay, I agree. It's time for you to become a man. No more babysitters. I was unprepared for it and tried not to let my shock show.

I was finally going to get the respect that I deserved and I immediately began planning for the first night alone. I had considered inviting one of my friends over to celebrate with me, but I changed my mind when the subject of chaperones came up. It looked like things weren't going to be as I'd hoped, but I wasn't going to let one small setback ruin my victory. Everything was looking great until the news began scaremongering about an unexpected storm. My parents discussed cancelling their dinner. It was beginning to look like the entire universe was conspiring against me. I did my best to talk them out of it, but it remained unclear what they were planning until the day of their anniversary itself.

That morning, the weatherman said that it was looking as if though the storm wasn't going to be as bad as they had thought. This was the last minute reprieve that I had been praying for. The dinner date was back on and I was about to get the whole evening to myself. That afternoon seemed like it dragged on forever. I sat in my room playing games and impatiently checking the clock every few minutes. And I was only able to calm down when the sun set. It would only be a few short hours from there. Just before 7pm, the moment arrived. I watched with a mix of relief and excitement as they drove away into the night. I ran back to my bedroom and dropped down in front of my TV.

My door was left wide open, probably for the first time in ten years or more. Placed around me was all my favorite snacks and a three liter of Mountain Dew. I set aside my headphones and cranked up the TV. It was a young man's dream. Not really different than my regular life, but at least now I was sure nobody would be there to complain about the noise or my foul mouth. I unpaused my game and let myself go. The rain had started falling even more before my parents left,

but as the evening passed, it grew worse and worse. I noticed it in the background, but I was enjoying myself too much to really care. I was getting close to the end of the game, I think it was Assassin's Creed or something, when suddenly, everything went black. Now stuff like this had happened before, but it didn't last more than a minute. I waited, but the power stayed off. I felt around in the dark until I found my iPhone, and I used the light to see my way around. Briefly, I thought about calling my parents, but I decided to leave that as a last resort.

The power would probably be back on soon anyway. While I waited, I stared out at the rain. It was pouring down like a waterfall. I guess I got lost in the beauty of it. A sudden banging on the front door knocked me out of my trance. I looked out to see if it was maybe my parents. There was a small chance that one of them didn't have their keys in that moment and couldn't get in since I'd locked the door. My view was blocked by some bushes so I couldn't be sure without actually going to the door. The light from my phone was less than ideal but I made it to the door without much trouble. I peered over the edge

of the door's little window. A man I didn't recognize was standing on the porch. Nothing about his looks alarmed me but I was reluctant to open it. I yelled at him through the door. I asked him what he wanted, and he said that his car had broken down a ways down the road and he needed to use the phone. Now even back then, most people had some type of cell phone. I was a little suspicious of his claims, so I told him we didn't have a home phone. When he asked if I had one, I just lied and denied it. He remained calm this whole time and when he asked for a towel, I said alright.

I ran to the bathroom as quickly as I could and returned with one. And this was my mistake. I let him take advantage of my compassion and it almost cost me my life. I tried to pass him the towel and close the door quickly, but he grabbed my hand the second that I stuck it out. I was able to jerk my hand away, but he was already pushing his way inside. I fought against his weight as long as I could. I started to feel myself losing strength. I remembered that I had a deadbolt on my closet door. I had put it on a year prior when I found my mom digging through my things. I was the only one with the key and there was no way anyone was going to find the

hiding place. I took a big breath and ran as fast as possible for my room. I was inside and locked in the closet in less than five seconds. My fingers were already dialing 911 even before I was turning the bolt. The voice of the operator instantly gave me a boost of confidence. I told her my problem as quietly as I could. I was well aware that a grown man could get through the flimsy closet door with enough effort. The lock was only a way to slow him down long enough for the police to arrive. The operator did a great job of keeping me calm. I could hear the man rummaging through the house, breaking things as he searched for me.

Our house wasn't that big, and soon enough, I heard him enter my room. I was too scared to say anything. I could hear his breathing as he approached the closet door. He jiggled the knob, but the door held fast, and he let out a sigh and spoke. I know you're in there. I don't want to hurt you. Just come out now. I won't hurt you. I was frozen stiff. I didn't dare even breathe. Okay, kid. I'm sick of these games. I'm going to get something to break down this door, and then you're going to be sorry. All of a sudden, the operator's voice blared out on the phone, asking if I was still on the line.

I panicked and blurted out that I had called the cops and they were on their way. The man stayed quiet for a moment and then called me a little liar. I assumed this was because I had lied about not having a phone. He stood silently outside for a while but after around a minute, I heard him walk out of the room and down the hall. I stayed where I was for the time being. There was no way I'd be tricked a second time. Maybe 30 seconds later or so, the 911 operator let me know that the cops had arrived. Not long after that, an officer came to the door and told me that it was safe to come out. A wave of relief washed over me as I stepped from that closet, and it would be short-lived though. I was still in my

room talking to the cop when I heard the shrill screeching of my mother coming from outside. In that moment, I almost regretted saving myself. She came running into my room crying out, her baby, and asking if her baby was okay. The police told her what had happened and she broke out into her, I knew that we shouldn't have left you alone speech. My dad stayed out in the hall staring at me with a disapproving look on his face, and I knew in that moment that I would never have a second to myself again. And this turned out to be exactly what happened. After that night, I was never allowed to be home alone again, and now I had to go everywhere with them if one couldn't stay behind to protect me. And this continued even after I got a job a year later,

which they strongly disapproved of, by the way. I was nearing my final year in high school and legally a man in some societies, but the iron grip remained tight. All this restrictive treatment came to its expected climax when I was 17. I had foolishly assumed the overbearing parenting would finally begin to let up, but I was wrong. And one day, I was told to get ready to go out because my parents both had to be present for something. The reason isn't important. I made it clear that I had to work in a few hours and needed to get some last minute things done. My mom said she didn't care. I was too irresponsible to be at home by myself, and my dad just stood by silently as he always had.

This was the moment that I realized what had really been going on. This hadn't been about my safety, this was all because I had made one stupid mistake and it was going to haunt me until I finally put a stop to it once and for all. And looking back I was strangely calm. I looked my mother straight in the eyes and told her it was over and she looked back at me with a confused expression. What's over? What do you mean it was over and she looked back at me with a confused expression. What's over? What do you mean it's over? I smiled and told her that I was done with all the babying. I was far

too old to be treated this way and I was done and she began to speak but I stopped her and I knew her well enough to know where she was headed. I'm leaving. I'm moving out. I'm not a moron you think I am. You're tyrants. I'm done living under your rules. She seemed confused, but I was done talking. I'd had offers from friends to share apartments long before this. I was confident that I'd land on someone's couch until I could get a place of my own, and I finally got to savor the feeling of complete relief I'd had robbed from me a few years before. I called one of my own, and I finally got to savor the feeling of complete relief I'd had robbed from me a few years before. I called one of my friends to get me, and while I waited for him to arrive, I packed as much as I could into a backpack and just left. As I walked out, I looked back one

last time. I hated those people for what they had done. They stood ashen-faced, I guess you could say, still shell-sho shocked about what had just happened. And for me, it was the best day of my life. And from then on I stayed with friends until I got old enough to get a lease. I continued going to school during all of this. I graduated and went on to college where I got a degree in secondary education. Although I don't hate my parents like I used to, I don't miss their condescending and overbearing rules one bit. In spite of all the family stuff, I hope I've made my point clear.

I may even create a subreddit for posting these types of weird stories sometime soon. And once I think of a name and set it up, I'll make an update to share the information. I want it to be a place people can reference when discussing the crime problem with other people. I still encounter people every day who think that they're safe just because of where they live or something equally stupid. If you meet some simple-minded fool like that, show them this story and all the others before it. It may not work every time, but if it saves just one person, my goal will be achieved. The roots of my trouble go way back to late 2019. I had just purchased a fixer-upper house in a run-down neighborhood. This has been my only source of income for more than 20 years. I'm a flipper. I go to auctions and drive-thru areas

in search of buildings to buy, fix up, and then sell. Hopefully, I come out the other side of the process with a profit. In late December, I bid on a nice-looking single-family two-bedroom house at auction. I ended up winning it and looked forward to starting the rehab as soon as I completed and sold my current project. I just managed to get that place finished and the sale finalized when COVID-19 reared its ugly head. In spite of all the uncertainty, I decided to start plans and purchasing supplies for the new property. After I was able to get a complete picture of the dwelling, I realized the project was going to be more expensive than I had initially thought. The last tenants had almost gutted the inside and all the windows and doors were either broken or non-functional. Even before the events of the

next two years happened, I made a hard rule to never buy property in low-income neighborhoods ever again because of this. Anyone with a pulse knows what happened in 2020 and 2021. Even after the end of lockdowns, many were still afraid and for my part, I stuck close to home in hopes of avoiding getting sick. Once or twice I did stop in at the house to check in on it. I saw signs of squatters both times but wasn't able to do much about it. My area would ultimately end all restrictions in spring of 21. I took this as a signal to finish my preparations and get to work on the house once and for all. My first day at the location, the roll-off container for the demo arrived and I replaced all the broken glass in the windows. The next few weeks were spent on finishing the gutting of the interior that the

previous occupants had so eagerly began. As often happens in the building trades, the process took twice as long as expected. They did finally complete the work, at which time the guys doing the drywall and the electricians started bringing in their supplies. This was when I chose to replace the old and broken doorknobs and deadbolts. I had no clue who had keys to the locks that did function. There was also the chance that some valuable tools may have been left behind for the sake of convenience, and it was two days later when I spoke to a neighbor who had just been a victim of a home invasion. The assailants had broken his wooden entry door open with a single kick. And after that discussion, I decided to upgrade all the external doors to steel. It took me an extra week, but I wouldn't have felt right knowing that I left the next owners

in an unsafe living situation. The need for better doors wasn't the only thing I'd picked up from that conversation. I had always suspected the area may be plagued with crime, but that incident confirmed it in my mind. Although I wouldn't choose to live in that neighborhood, I am very aware not everyone has as many options as I do. No matter a person's income or class, I believe everyone has a right to feel safe in their own home. It's a no-brainer as far as I'm concerned. I began searching for the best looking doorknobs and deadbolts that I could afford. I contacted a contractor I'm friends with and he made me a good deal on some amazing European locks.

When they arrived, I began putting them in the doors. However, upon reaching the back door, I noticed I didn't have the right keys for that particular lock. I called up that same contractor and they promised to overnight me a new deadbolt, but it wasn't the reason I decided to spend the night. I noticed a major problem with the drywall and the head of the drywall crew guy was supposed to show up early the next morning to discuss it. I laid a sleeping bag and a wool blanket on the master bedroom floor and set my oil lamp up for light if I needed it. I could sleep through anything so I was confident the night would be quiet and uneventful. I couldn't have been asleep that long when I heard a banging coming from the kitchen. I sat up and listened for it again. Mere seconds later, it repeated.

I felt around for my jeans and put them on. I stood up and walked carefully towards the kitchen. As I got closer, I could hear two voices whispering outside. In the kitchen, the voices got clearer. One belonged to a male and the other was almost surely a female, although I couldn't be sure. A light was illuminating two figures standing at the door. They were looking down at the doorknob and appeared to be trying to break in. I was just a few feet from the door when it burst open and the two figures spilled inside. The pair ran right into me, and the look of shock on their faces was priceless.

It took the guy a moment to compute what was happening. I started laughing and was beginning to say something when he jumped on me. In the process, he dropped the light on the floor and it turned off. We were now struggling against each other in complete darkness. I was holding my own, but the possibility that the woman could join in against me had me very concerned. He and I continued fighting for around 20 seconds, neither man getting power over the other, when I landed a lucky nut shot on him. I felt his body give way and I took control. I landed one decent shot across his face but slipped and fell face first forward. He must have been done. I was getting up when I heard him scooting out the door,

followed closely by the female. I slammed the door behind them and pulled a nearby chair over and wedged it under the knob. I looked out to see if they were looking around waiting to come back, but I didn't see any sign of them. The odds were they were halfway across the neighborhood. I felt safe enough to feel my way back to the bedroom and retrieve my phone. I used the screen to find some matches to light my lamp. For the first time I could see almost everything around me. It was a good feeling. I took a moment to relax and I called 911. I let the dispatcher know what had happened and a few minutes later the cops arrived with an ambulance. The paramedics checked me out

while I filled the police in on the situation. I got the okay and the cops left. They said if they came up with anything they'd contact me and it was probably just some squatters and I'm left to assume that they never did find anything out. Despite being a little shaken up I was able to get a few hours of rest before the drywall guy showed up. We got our problem resolved and his guys were able to complete their work by the end of that month. The new lock arrived just as promised late that afternoon and I got that task finished by dark. After another two or three months, the rehab was done and the house sold a few weeks later. Like I said, my days of flipping in dangerous neighborhoods

is over. I wish less fortunate people had better options, but I'm just one man. I did as much as I could think of, and it's out of my hands now. All I can do is bid them good luck. To be continued... So the events of this story must be without a doubt the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. I don't know how scary this story is, it's just very weird. I didn't know where to share my story so I figured writing it for the internet was my best bet and I hope you enjoy my strange and weird story from March Madness last year. I worked as a security guard for hire in San Francisco, California, one of the locations of the men's NCAA basketball tournament last year. For anybody who doesn't know, every year the NCAA holds the March Madness basketball tournament. It's a massive 68-team tournament, if you count the play-in games, to determine the national

champion of college basketball. Every year it is one of the most anticipated sports events, even for those who don't like basketball or even sports. As you would expect, something of this magnitude involves a ton of fans which, as a result, you need a lot of security. For the most part, as a security guard, I've not seen anything too crazy. The typical stuff, sure. I've had to throw people out for drunken incidents, bringing something they shouldn't into the arenas, and one time, I even had to throw someone out who tried to go streaking across the court. But nothing stranger than when I had to work with a March Madness tournament. It was the regional final, which means the winner of that game would go to the final four of the entire tournament. The game started a little before 6pm PDT, but before the game, there was a few thousand strong tailgating fans.

Fans of Arkansas and Duke were going wild, hence why they beefed up security. For the most part, the crowds were fine while they were tailgating. A little bit of ruckus here and there, but ultimately it was just people having fun. Who am I to stop them unless they're hurting someone or breaking the rules? A few hours until tip-off, maybe around 3-4pm, a little man walked up to me. This guy had to be about 5'2", built like a meatball. He had a scruffy beard that was patchy and wild hair that went every direction you can think of. He was wearing a New York Yankees windbreaker and a New York Mets hat.

I'm not a big baseball guy, but I think the New Yorkers would probably frown on that. And I asked the man, You alright, sir? And he responded with the weirdest sentence I thought I would ever hear at a March Madness tailgating event. He said in a squeaky voice, Yes, my good man, I'm looking for a place to meditate. For you see, I need to meditate so I can alert them that I'm here. Yeah, I had no clue how to respond to that request,

and I was not even going to attempt to unpack that. I just responded in a friendly tone, Sorry, but I don't think you're going to find a spot like that here. The man grabbed my hand as I started to walk away and said, well, that's too bad, isn't it? I'll have to find another way to alert them. Well, good day, sir. The man turned around and walked away. Now, this man was not a threat physically but I definitely made a note of this interaction and radioed it into some of the other guards just in case. He wasn't doing anything wrong at all but he was talking about alerting people and what not. I had to keep

thousands of people safe, I just wanted to make a mental note about him. I figured he was drunk or something, nothing to be too concerned about. A few hours passed and the fans started to enter the arena and the game commenced. Duke defeated Arkansas and the fans started to leave after the game. We helped to assist thousands of fans to their cars and we had several guards outside to make sure everything was safe in the parking lot. As the last of the fans were trickling out of the arena, I saw my little friend again with his bright Yankee coat. He was sitting inside of a supply closet on the ground in the concessions area. I didn't even want to know how he got in there, I just wanted him gone. Okay bud, time to go. Get up, get out, so we won't involve anybody else here. He didn't respond or acknowledge me whatsoever.

He was mumbling under his breath, but nothing I could make out. It just sounded like random mumbling. Hey, do you hear me? I started to shout. The one thing about this line of work is that sometimes you gotta be a jerk. I don't enjoy it, but it's part of the job. I said to the man one last time, Sir, this is your last warning. The man finally turned to me and said, Ah, good. You hit it just in time. I just alerted them. Not taking any chances, I called for backup, just in case there was more to the situation. I wanted to make sure that I covered all my loose ends.

In a minute or two, several of my fellow security guards were standing with me. I warned the man and said, alright bud, we're escorting you out of here, I don't care where you go, but you gotta leave the arena unless you want us to call the police actually. The man started to laugh uncontrollably. We all looked at each other in this sort of bewilderment. This was so weird. Clearly this man was not well, and before one of the other men went to grab the little guy, I told him to hold on. We needed to call the police and get this man some help. While the other guard, who happened to be my supervisor, said a certain curse word to me and

told me to forget that idea. He grabbed the man and as soon as he touched him, the man went crazy. He started yelling and laughing all at once shouting, yeah, yeah, they're coming. You're first. My supervisor threw him over his shoulder and started to carry him to the entrance of the arena. Against his wishes, I called the police anyway and told them the situation. As a result of the tournament, they already had active duty cops outside the venue. I went outside with the other guards as they tried to basically just toss this man into the wind. While this was happening, the man is still laughing uncontrollably. The cops came over and tried to talk to the man who started to get kind of violent.

With us, he was being weird, but with the cops, his tone changed real quick. The squeaky voice turned deep and almost sinister and the man said, Touch me again and you'll regret it. They're coming and they don't like your kind. I started to feel bad for this guy. I just wanted him to get some help at this point. As one of the police officers pulled out his handcuffs, the man jumped back and got on his knees and threw his hands up to the sky and yelled, They're here! Oh, thank you! They're finally here! And then he started to laugh again.

Clearly, there was nothing in the sky. But this man saw something in his mind. After his outburst he fell back and was lying down on the ground completely motionless. The cop yelled at him but the man didn't move and we were all a bit floored by all of this. As the cop approached the man to make sure that he was alive he popped up, put out his hands to be cuffed, and didn't say a word. He went with the police and that was the last I saw of this little weirdo. I don't even think the cops arrested him that night, which kind of makes me upset. That man clearly needed help,

as he seemed to be suffering from something. At no point during this event was I scared, but looking back at the situation, it was just so weird. I still have no idea what was wrong with the man, what he was talking about, what he thinks he saw, or where the man is today. He could still be wandering the streets of San Francisco, or maybe he's in New York with his Yankee and Mets gear. Either way, the brain is a fragile thing. Some people who are harmless could be potentially dangerous. Just be careful out there and watch out for little men who meditate in supply closets. To be continued... say before I tell my story that I'm going to keep my name and the location of this story completely anonymous for certain legal reasons, obviously. Several years ago, I used to be a thief. It's not something I'm proud of, and if I could give advice to any young people out there, it would be to find other ways to succeed in life. No matter how horrible you think life may be, there is always

another way. I got into this dark career path at a young age and it became my way of life for over a decade. With that being said, here's my story of the most terrifying thing that ever happened to me while being a criminal. I started stealing in high school for no real reason other than I could. It was not about the thrill or about surviving. At that point in my life, I just wanted to see if I could do it without getting caught. I would steal a candy bar at the gas station, a soda at the store, and even random things like chapstick from a purse. I realized quickly that I was good at stealing things. I know that sounds horrible and I'm not proud of that fact, but being a social outcast in high school, it was just nice to find something I was good at.

The older I got, the more I stole. I got better at stealing from stores. Instead of stealing soda, I started to steal steaks. And then steaks turned into entire shopping carts full of groceries. Believe it or not, I'd actually pulled that off, and for me, it was about discipline. I would always do my research. I would know who was working at what time, how many doors were in the building, and even the layouts of the store so I could pin my route from start to finish. My horrible talent became a full-on operation.

After graduating from high school and committing pointless theft for a couple of years, I decided to make the decision to be a thief as my full-time job. At that point in my life I didn't think I had any real-world skills other than stealing. In the years that followed, I literally stole anything I could get my hands on. But I made my ultimate living robbing cars. And I don't mean physically stealing cars, but robbing the insides of the vehicles. Specifically, I would rob the insides of cars during sporting events. While hundreds if not thousands of people tailgated, I would blend in with the crowd, and oftentimes even party with the fans of the game. The stadium near my house at the time had a parking lot located close to the venue, and you didn't need to pay to park there.

The fans would park their cars, set up tents and grills, and party for hours before the game. I would spend hours meeting people while tailgating, learning about the personalities of the people, and most importantly, finding out what kind of cars they drive. When the fans would make their way to the stadium, I would secretly start to slip their keys into my bag. I know it sounds crazy, but you would be surprised how many people don't check their vehicles before heading to the game. Some would even realize that they lost their keys and basically they don't care because they want to make it to the game on time or just party with their friends. Once the crowd thins out and the lot is virtually abandoned, I would start my theft. Car after car I would rob and fill my bag. So many people leave their wallets, cash, or credit cards in the car during the game.

More often times than not, women would leave their purses in the car and I would clean out the cash. After my theft, I would leave the key on the seat of the car, staging a scene that makes it look as if the key fell out of the driver's pocket. I apologize for the long setup, but understanding how I operated during these tailgating events is important to understand what happened the night I got caught. The night I will never forget. So my night started like most other afternoon operations. This specific game was a night game, which I loved because I could use nightfall as protection to move in the dark.

During the late afternoon tailgating sessions, I did my thing and met a bunch of people. Everything was going according to plan and I secured several keys in my bag. Once the tailgating lot cleared out, I started my job. I approached my first car and got lucky right off the bat. The passenger seat contained a purse with $1,200 in cash. If the remainder of my keys contained nothing, the night would still be a success in my mind. Once I cleaned out the purse and closed the door, I noticed two figures standing in the lot. I had my own personal rules to protect myself when this happened, so I didn't look sketchy. I turned to the figures and shouted, my wife forgot her purse, of course she sent me.

I opened the car door again and grabbed the entire purse and I laughed and started to walk toward the stadium. Remember I still have my bag full of car keys and now I also have this stranger's purse as well. As I left the lot I turned and noticed the two figures following me. I started to walk a little faster and when I turned, the figures were now moving at the same pace as me. When I was a good distance away from the lot, I started to sprint. To my horror, the two figures were now sprinting after me. My first thought was I was screwed. I figured I was caught but I couldn't figure out how I was caught. Running down the main road that led to the stadium I decided to make a hard right turn and I started to cut down the side streets to where I hid my car. The figures were still

following me. I got to my car quickly and locked the door immediately as I tried to start my car. The figures ran past my car and got into the car that was parked behind me. At this point I couldn't figure out what was happening. Who were these people and how did they know who I was and what I drove? I hit the gas and drove as fast as I could, but they were right on my tail. About five miles from the stadium I was still being chased. I thought maybe turning down a narrow one-way street would be an ideal route to lose this car as I've seen this tactic in movies and all that kind of stuff but as I turned down the one-way I was cut off by another car in front of me.

I was now sandwiched between two vehicles. I know at this point if you're reading this you're probably thinking I deserve what's coming to me and you you're right. But this was still the scariest moment of my life. I didn't know if I was caught by the cops and I was going to get arrested or if this was someone who was onto my game or just a random targeting. In that moment of sitting in my car, I contemplated my options. Ultimately, I decided to get out and run. I grabbed my bag, which contained the purse I stole and the keys and I ran. As I approached the car at full speed on foot, several people got out and grabbed me right away. I'm not sure if it was a man or a woman. The figure was small and they were wearing a mask.

I specifically remember it being this cheap plastic tiger mask that you could buy at any Halloween store. I tried to slither my way out of their hands, and I did and ran to the end of the narrow street. Once I got to the main road, I ran about a mile away to the 24-hour gas station, figuring the public location would be safe. After a couple of minutes, I saw the two vehicles come into the lot of the gas station. I started to panic and told the person behind the counter. This is the point in my life when karma finally caught up to me. By chance, there were two cops in the gas station. During football games, they always patrolled the surrounding areas for drunk drivers and rowdy fans. The cops approached me and asked why I was being so frantic. I exclaimed

that cars had been following me and that they tried to jump me. I guess I must have been freaking out because the cops just telling me to relax and were asking me for ID. Realizing that the purse and keys were still in the bag, I immediately dialed myself back, which was even more suspicious. I got quiet because I tried to calculate my options, but there was so much running through my mind I didn't know what to say or what to do. The cops spoke up again in a firm voice. Can I please see your ID, son? I was a bit apprehensive, but I went into my bag and grabbed my ID. Maybe it was my nerves or maybe it was just my luck finally running out, but I dropped my backpack and scattered on the floor was the purse

and about 8 sets of car keys. The cops looked at the keys and this is when the real question started. I started to panic and itch. The cops knew I was lying. I looked outside and saw what I thought were my chasers standing outside of their vehicles and their masks were off. I didn't recognize any of these people. A few men and women all stood outside smiling at me through the windows. Needless to say, after putting my foot in my mouth a few times, the cops were able to put two and two together, and I was eventually caught. The cops found the owners of the keys, and half of the tailgaters were able to positively ID me.

I served several years in jail and had ample time to think about that evening. Honestly, being a thief may have saved my life. After a long time thinking about this event, I think it was just a random targeting. If the cops didn't arrest me, those masked figures may have eventually got to me, and who knows what their intentions may have been. Life is kind of funny sometimes. That may have been the most terrifying night of my life, from the abductors to getting arrested, but without that night,

I would have never reformed and changed my life around. Remember what I said earlier, there was always another way in life. I'm lucky to be alive and reformed, Remember what I said earlier, there was always another way in life. I'm lucky to be alive and reformed, and I going to football games is tailgating before the game. I love the atmosphere, the people, and the overall fun. What could be more fun for a sports fan than sitting around eating good food, drinking cold beer, and throwing the football around? I've been tailgating with my family since I was 10 years old. Now I'm 30, just for a bit of context. For the most part, my family has gone with the same people every year. We have season tickets through my dad's work, so it's always been the same group of people.

The older I got though, the less I wanted to party with the older adults and the more I wanted to hang out with people my own age. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but in my early 20s is when I met Brittany while tailgating. On this specific game, I went walking around looking for some of my friends. I found some friends from school and hung out with them for a while. While I was drinking some beer, I noticed this beautiful girl looking at me, smiling. I played stupid for a little while because I'm absolutely horrible at picking up signals like this from girls. After a few minutes, she came over and said something to me. I blushed but definitely was smooth about it. Well, I think I was smooth, I probably looked like an idiot. After a little giggling, she said in a shy voice, I'm Brittany, what's your name?

I told her my name and we shook hands like we were in a business meeting. My friends were laughing at me, and I could hear them making comments under their breath. I'm not the best when it comes to interactions with someone I'm attracted to, also. And after some minor small talk, I finally dropped the big question and said in a nervous voice, would it be okay if I got your number? She smiled and nodded. She grabbed my phone and put her number in there as Brittany with a heart emoji. She then leaned in for a big hug and dropped my phone in my back pocket. While hugging me, she leaned in and whispered, don't forget to text me.

She stepped away, smiling, and waved as she disappeared back into the crowd. I couldn't believe what just happened. My friends came over and high-fived me and did all the masculine stuff that boys do when they talk to a pretty girl. I shouted for a beer and we all had a beer in celebration of my successful interaction. And after a while, we continued to party for a bit and then went our separate ways. We met back up with my family and we went to the game. After the awesome overtime win, all I could think about was texting Brittany. In fact, the entire game, all I could think about was texting her.

I didn't want to appear too eager, so I waited until I got home that night to text her and my first message was at 8.46pm. She messaged me nearly right away and here is our entire conversation. Hey Brittany, it's Nate. So happy I got to meet you today, what's up? Hey Nate, I have to admit I am a little disappointed. Why? You never texted me earlier. I thought you liked me. Lol, I do like you. I didn't want to seem too eager. I texted you as soon as I got home. I thought you

were different, Nathan. Nathan? All of my trouble? I'm going to end you. Excuse me? What does that mean? Your back door is unlocked. What the hell? Your back door is red. There's a fall wreath hanging on the door. The kitchen light is on and your mother was just washing dishes in the sink. I saw it through the window. You better lock your door, Nathan. Dude, that's creepy. Listen, sorry if I offended you or something, but I think you should delete my number. I thought this was real. Oh, and your dad just left the living room and is heading upstairs. Are you in my house? Maybe. I could be in your closet. I just looked, you're not. This is some messed up joke. It's not a joke. Your parents are in bed now. Come outside if you actually like me.

Ew, stop texting me. Okay, I'm coming in then. I did warn you. Are you serious? Brittany? Hello? After a few minutes of no response, I ran downstairs. The back door knob was shaking like someone was trying to open the door from the outside. I tried calling Brittany's phone, but it just kept going to voicemail. I went to the window and peered through the glass. This person trying to break into my house was not Brittany. It was some skinny looking guy with a tattoo on his neck that said ANGEL in huge capital letters, and I ran into the closet in the living room and immediately called the police.

The soon-to-be intruder must have been a terrible thief because within the five minutes it took for the cops to show up, this man was still trying to break down the door. When the cops showed up, the man was banging on the door trying to get in. As soon as he saw the lights from the cops' cars, he ran and, unfortunately, the cops were never able to catch him through the backyards. When I heard the cops I got out of hiding and let them in and noticed that I had one more message from that guy that said, smart man, that would have been your end. After giving the police all the information and quote unquote Brittany's number, it turned out that the phone had been stolen. The phone belonged to an older woman who lost her phone at the football game. Unfortunately, there was no other news on this story. They never caught Brittany and her

accomplice. I never found out how they knew where I lived, and the cops think that they must have been following me from the football game. I stayed in that house for a few more years until I bought my own house, and I was terrified almost every night that they would come back. I don't know what I could have done differently to avoid this from happening. In hindsight, I should have contacted a friend or the police when this Britney person started acting weird, but I didn't want to overreact in the moment, not knowing if it was some type of sick joke, I guess. Just please be careful, my friends. There are some truly horrible people out there. One of the best parts about going to a football game is tailgating prior to the game. I've never been a massive fan of football, but I have always loved the team atmosphere of going to the games.

There is something electric about getting together with thousands of people to cheer for a shared goal. For nearly 10 years straight, my brother and I would try to go to as many home Buffalo Bills games as possible, being that it was only a few hours from where we lived. If you know anything about Bills fans, they can be a bit on the wild side to say the least. I've witnessed anything you can think of, everything from a legitimate wrestling match in the parking lot, cars on fire, and a countless number of unspeakable acts. You kind of just shrug it off because that's the Bill's experience, and it has its charms. My brother and I have since stopped going to the games though, and it's not because of the wild fans. Truth be told, I like wild fans.

They can be entertaining and fun, and they really do create an insane atmosphere for the games. We stopped going for a much darker and nefarious reason. A few years ago, we showed up early like always and started to tailgate with a faithful fanbase. It was the same as always, if not even a little mellow for Buffalo fans. We drank some beers, ate some food, listened to music and got pumped for the game that was about to transpire. All was well in Buffalo that early morning. Around 11am if I had to guess, my brother nudged me and pointed out a group of guys who were standing by a van. On its own this isn't alarming at all, but something was off about these guys. Most people here were wearing

buffalo colors except for the few who were wearing dolphins colors and these guys were dressed in all black and had full ski masks on. They were talking amongst themselves and not really partaking in the tailgating. We tried to continue to party with everyone else, but now I couldn't get my eyes off these guys. They looked like they were staring at us, but I didn't want to judge or assume. As the door time approached, the fans in the lot started to dwindle. Before we started to walk toward the gate, for some reason I decided that I wanted to talk to these guys. Maybe I had a bit too much to drink or maybe the Buffalo faithful got me going.

Either way, this would prove to be a horrible mistake on my part. I got close to the guys and the overwhelming smell of Axe body spray almost made me pass out. What's up, guys? You ready for the game? No response from these three men outside the van. I made a gesture pointing to the stadium, insinuating that they should walk with us. The awkward silence lasted a few seconds, then I said, Okay then, well, clearly you guys suck.

Again, maybe I drank too much. Either way, I shouldn't have said that. I turned my head to see where my brother was and in the quickest of flashes, I saw my brother walking with the group we were tailgating with. And then everything went black as I felt an intense pain in the back of my head. I blacked out only for a second and when I came to, these three men were throwing me in the van and in my foggy state I noticed a driver already sitting in the driver's seat. I tried to muster up some words but I was dazed and my head hurt so bad. I remember looking

down on the floor of the van as they started to drive away with me inside and I saw this thick metal pipe. I couldn't stop wondering to myself if that was the object that they hit me with. I finally was able to get some words out and I said, what's going on? Where are we going? The two men in the back of the van with me said nothing and the man in the passenger seat turned to me and said, shut up, don't say a word, do what we say and you'll be fine. I wasn't sure how I was even able to comprehend anything that was being said at that point. I could feel something started to pool around my head and I don't think it was sweat. The driver was erratic with his movements and I started to feel dizzy. Oh, while this was happening,

the two men in the back of the van with me were holding me down so I couldn't move. The entire drive, all four men were talking in some kind of code. It was like English, but it was nonsense. Saying things like, the unicorn must eat the book, and just really weird sentences like that. I was feeling a little bit out of it, but I clearly remembered the insanity of what these men were saying, but I also wasn't sure if it was because I was just smacked in the back of the head to the point of bleeding. A few minutes from the stadium, the van stopped, and the men threw me out of the van. They dragged me into some alley and

just started beating me up. They kicked me in my ribs and took my cash. They left my wallet and ID and even left my credit cards which was strange I thought. They only took my cash. After the beating, the man who was in the passenger seat sat me up against the wall and lifted his mask off. I could clearly make out his face. He was not a bad looking guy. He seemed to have these really apparent bright blue eyes, blonde hair, incredibly straight teeth and didn't look like the maniac who had been terrorizing me the last few minutes. Then suddenly, the demeanor of the situation changed.

He put his hand on my shoulder and looked me right in the eyes and said, Hey bud, I'm real sorry about that, just let me know where the bag is and this was all over, okay? I was in disbelief. I had just had the worst beating in my life and it was because these guys maybe thought that I was somebody else. I responded, What bag? I'm not from here. I'm just here for the game. I have no idea what you're talking about. The man studied my face for a moment and then he must have deemed that I was telling the truth. He turned to one of the other guys. Is this not the guy? And the

other man just shrugged and said, it looks like him. The blonde man put his head down and shook it in disbelief. He then looked at me again and said, Sorry man, you just probably had the worst day of your life and you're not even who we're looking for. He pulled the mask back down and then gave me my money back. As I leaned against the wall of the alley in broad daylight, the man got back into the van and sped off. I was hurting bad and at that moment I didn't think to look at the license plate I wasn't even sure if it was a New York license plate I felt this feeling in the pit of my stomach

and I just threw up when I finally was able to gain my composure I realized that I still had my phone on me and I called my brother who never went into the game because he was frantically trying to find me. He showed up to the alley with the police in what felt like two minutes or so, and by this point I was banged up and I don't really remember a lot of the details of getting from there to eventually the hospital. I ended up with a concussion and some bruises.

No broken ribs or stitches or anything of that sort. Thankfully not in my head either, the doctor said I didn't need them. And it was tricky making a police report because I didn't see the van other than in the lot or any of the men other than the blonde guy. They didn't rob me and they let me go. And though the beating wouldn't be enough to get these guys in trouble, I gave the best report that I could and that was that. I never heard back from the police and I guess I just kind of went on with my life. And that was several years ago and I have yet to go to any sports games. I don't even watch football on TV anymore. I haven't been to Buffalo and I don't want to go anytime soon. This is not a negative

review of Buffalo or the Bills. I really like Buffalo. I just sustained so much trauma there that I never want to go back. Does anybody out there have any idea what this could have been? My theory was that these guys were just some sort of petty criminals and I got caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm not sure if this story is scary or just strange, but it's still one of the craziest things that's ever happened to me personally. Every time I tell this story, people always tell me to write it and post it, so here's my attempt at that. Also, please be patient with me as I'm not really a writer. This is the first thing I've written since I've been in high school, so buckle up.

I'm reminded of this strange scavenger hunt, for lack of a better term, every time we tailgate. For anything at all. Sports, concerts, I've even tailgated for my daughter's ballet recital. I'm not sure exactly how long ago this happened, it was either in the late 80s or early 90s, but I remember the incident vividly. We were tailgating for our hometown college football team. About a mile walk from the stadium is a massive lot where all the fans go to party. It is a fun and absolutely insane time. On this one particular day, our team was playing in the mid-afternoon, which gave us hours to drink and eat some pulled pork and brisket sandwiches. During the tailgating, we noticed a purse on the ground right among our immediate group.

Our group consisted of probably 25 people, but still nobody knew where the purse came from. The purse was a normal-sized handbag, I don't know how purses are classified, but I would say you could probably fit a to-go container of wings in the bag for a size reference. The purse was cheetah printed and that's how I was able to first notice it. The cheetah pattern was loud and stuck out like a sore thumb among all the purple shirts. We kept asking, hey whose purse is this? But nobody answered and nobody claimed it. We ignored it for a while. I know there are bad people in the world who would relish this opportunity to actually steal a purse, but we're not like that where I'm from. We continued to party and the purse just sat there. It became a joke after a while with guys yelling, hey,

let's raise a beer to the purse. And we'd all share a laugh and have a drink and the women would say, whoever's purse that is, it looks expensive. And like I said, I know nothing about purses, but apparently this was a name brand and this purse wasn't just some generic handbag. A few hours until kickoff, we decided that we should maybe move the purse into one of the cars, keep it safe for whoever may claim it. I must admit, at this point it became kind of like a game to us. We tried to figure out if anybody had been there and left. Did anybody have kids that came and went, but nobody could remember anything. And it gave us some entertaining conversation for sure. Finally, one of the ladies in our group had the genius idea to check the ID and wallet in the purse.

I know what everybody must be thinking to this point. Why are we just now thinking about checking the ID? Well, honestly, we didn't care to earlier. Yeah, we had some fun with the purse, but I was taught you never go through a woman's purse. Ever. And we kind of just figured whoever owned the purse would be back eventually, so checking the ID or anything like that just didn't really cross our minds at the time. The first thing I noticed about the purse was that it was super heavy.

And this was the first time any of us touched the purse. When I unzipped the top of the bag, I froze for a second. It was a bag of frozen meat. My hometown is chilly this time of year year so the meat in the bag was still stiff. We started pulling them out and we all kind of had a bit of a laugh. My first thought was somebody brought meat for us to cook but forgot they froze it so they just left it aside. Then the horror came. As I finished pulling out the frozen chunks of meat, there was a severed hand in the bottom of this bag frozen solid. We all shouted and immediately screamed and I panicked

and threw the bag on the ground. My wife screamed. Someone in the group was already yelling for someone to call the police. Cell phones were not a common thing back in the 80s or 90s and if you had one you probably wouldn't be bringing this big clunky thing to a football game. We didn't know if the hand was even real, even though it looked very real. When I threw the bag on the ground I noticed that there was a note on the bottom of the bag and all it said was the leaning statue. We all knew exactly what that meant. I don't know the exact name of the statue but it's on the walk from the lot to the stadium. It has this nickname because all the people in the statue look like they're leaning forward. We should have waited for the police but a few of us wanted to

know what was at the statue. I know that it's horrible and probably tampering with evidence or something but at that moment we didn't care, we just wanted some kind of answer. Most of the group stayed back and waited for the cops, but a few of us ran to the statue. Chances of something being there with all the people walking to the game were slim, but we had to check in our drunken stupor. When we got there, at first glance there was nothing strange about the location. On the backside of the statue is a little bushy area, no more than knee high at best. I walked through a little bit of the brush and I found another cheetah purse. And my heart sank.

I did the stupidest thing I could think of and I picked it up. I wanted to see if it was heavy like the other purse, and it was just as heavy. I started to unzip it, and my buddy slapped my hand and said, what are you doing? You're getting your fingerprints all of that. Put it down and let's wait for the police. And he was right. I started to freak out. It was my prints that were on both bags now, and we sent someone back to the group to tell them what we found and then waited for the police and told the police what we found there. Underneath that bag was another note with an address on it that I didn't recognize and this is where I decided I should probably call it quits. I wasn't going to go and be seen in another location. The police did confirm that there was another hand in that bag, and a full-on investigation

happened right after. I hate to say this, but I don't know what they found at the next location. I don't know how many more cheetah bags there were. We never were told what the meat in the bag was, and we were never even told if the severed hand was even real. The way the police acted though, it gave us all the evidence we needed to know if this was real. I went down to the station and gave them all the information I had and told them about my stupidity touching the evidence and it turns out they thankfully never suspected me due to all the other people they interviewed there but I lost sleep for a few nights thinking about how I may get framed for this crime. We never did find out anything else about this weird situation.

The cops took it very seriously for a few days and then it seemed to blow over, which made us think that the hands were fake and someone was playing some elaborate hoax of some kind. But to anybody reading this, I swear to you, that hand looks so real. I mean, I don't want to go into explicit detail, but I promised you. I think it was legit. I remember everything from that afternoon 30 plus years later. I remember the pit in my stomach. I remember the look and smell of the bag. I'll never forget that smell. Now, I know this story isn't wildly crazy or anything, but it was intense and honestly just the weirdest thing I've ever experienced. Has anybody ever had anything as insane like this happen in their hometown? To be continued... is going to concerts and listening to live music. I started going to concerts with my dad at a young

age and by the time I was in college I was going with my friends all over the United States. I have seen shows in football stadiums, dive bars and even the middle of the desert. There really isn't anything out there quite like live music. Several years ago the boy I was seeing at the time named Chuck scored us four tickets to this massive music festival. I was beyond excited about this. We were going to stay right at the festival grounds and camp out. Now ordinarily, I wouldn't travel this far with a new boyfriend, if you could even call him that, but the fact that he got four passes and told me to ask a friend, I thought it was a great idea. And you will soon find out that this was in fact

a horrible idea that almost cost me everything. When we arrived at this festival, it was everything I could have ever wanted at a concert and more. Anybody who had ever been tailgating, it was a lot like that plus the added excitement of camping. I gave the two extra tickets to my friend Jade and her fiancé Ben. They were new to the concerts, camping, tailgating, basically anything fun type arena, you know. And Jade and Ben recently graduated from college and were ready to do some fun and different things

before starting their life and careers together. And the weekend started off amazingly. We jammed out to a bunch of different acts and then went back to our tents and partied some more. Chuck wanted to set up the tents on the outskirts of the campgrounds, which I wasn't a huge fan of at the time. Not because I thought it was weird or a red flag or anything like that, but because I wanted to be near as many people as possible in this environment. Chuck compromised with me though, which I thought was nice at the time. We set up our tents on the outskirts like he wanted, but we ventured into the heart of the campgrounds to party

with everyone there. When I say it's a lot like tailgating, I'm not kidding. Within seconds of being in this area, we were drinking, eating, jamming out to some awesome music. Ben even went and played a game of football with a bunch of guys, but Chuck just kind of stood there and watched. Some people aren't sports guys, so it is what it is, I thought, but what did give me some pause was the fact that Chuck didn't even seem like a concert guy. He seemed off and quiet, which was not like him at all. While I was partying with Jade and some new people that we met, I would periodically look over at Chuck who would either be walking around or talking to random people like he knew them. It was a little sketchy, but I was there for some fun and I was intent on having a good time. I had pretty much mentally decided that I was going to break things off with Chuck after the weekend, but for now, I was going to party like it was my last night alive.

Little did I know, it was indeed almost my last night alive. We went back and listened to some music and then went back to the tailgating area to party before we called it an evening. Chuck was talking to this weird guy who introduced himself to me as Colin. Chuck said that he knew Colin from high school and that he was a great guy. Colin was just like Chuck in a sense, he didn't look like he was enjoying himself at all and was also as quiet as a church mouse. After a few hours we decided to head back to our tents to the outskirts and before we walked away completely, Colin said, Hey guys, be careful on your way over there. I know that bears can often be found in the forest next to your tents. We all walked away saying to ourselves, like, what's wrong with this guy? I walked ahead and poked my head in between Jade and Ben and said, sorry guys, I didn't realize how weird Chuck and

his friend are, but thanks for coming with me. I put my arms around them and continued walking with them and I could feel Chuck walking nearly right on top of me. We arrived at the tents and got all cozy inside. All four of us were staying in the one tent. I pulled out the Uno deck and we played a few games which was a nice wind down from the events of the afternoon and night. Every ten minutes or so Chuck had to keep leaving the tent to pee or smoke a cigarette.

I knew he smoked, but I didn't realize he smoked so much. It was weird and I really didn't trust what he was doing. My alarm bells were screaming at me, but I didn't think I could do anything. I thought maybe he was just feeling the same way that I felt about the relationship and just kind of wanted some space. After a few games, we turned out the flashlight and tried to get some rest. It was shortly after 3am if I had to guess. Not too long after that, Chuck nudged me, awakening me from my light sleep and said, I think there's a bear outside the tent. I listened but was saying to myself that this guy's an idiot. And before I said anything out loud I heard something. There! He said in a frantic voice. Did you hear that?

I nodded and tried to wake up Jade and Ben, who were now starting to roll around groggily. Chuck grabbed the flashlight and pointed it at the wall of the tent, and to our absolute horror, there was a silhouette outside the tent. But if it was a bear, it was the weirdest bear I'd ever seen. The creature was on all fours and grunting, but it was so small and skinny, it just was not the size of a bear. Oh my god, Jake said as she clinched onto Ben's arm. Chuck then whipped the flashlight to the other side and another silhouette appeared. Chuck said in a passive voice, Multiple bears outside the tent, guys. I think we should try and run. I'll go first and help you out.

That seemed like a terrible idea, but I had no clue what to do when bears attacked. When Chuck grabbed the zipper, Ben grabbed his arm and said, whoa dude, what are you doing? This is absolutely the worst thing to do right now. Turn the light off and just sit still. That also sounded terrible, but I trusted Ben more than Chuck. He made a face of disgust toward Ben and said, Listen college boy, you may have a degree, but out here I know what's best for the group.

Ben just looked at Chuck like he was going to hit him, but I was floored because I've never heard Chuck even remotely say or do anything like that ever. I'm going out there. I'll lead us to safety, Chuck said with arrogance in his voice. He unzipped the tent and whispered back, The coast is clear. Hurry up. Grab my hand, babe. He reached his hand into the tent to grab my hand. As I slowly reached out, Ben held me back and Ben grabbed his hand instead. Immediately upon making contact, Chuck grabbed the hand and pulled him out.

Not pulled, more like dragged him out. Ben screamed and said in a voice that still haunts me, Guys, run now! We got up and busted through the tent door. Ben had Chuck pinned down and was fighting two other guys who were wearing all black and, I kid you not, wearing bear masks. I was so confused in that moment, and Jade was crying and screaming for Ben, but I told her to keep running.

I figured if we could just make it to some other tents we would be safe. I was just nervous as to how much time Ben had left. We turned around several times and saw one of the bear masks actually chasing us. On two feet now and the bear charade was over. As the man grabbed the back of my hooded sweatshirt, Ben came in like some football player and tackled this guy hard into the ground. He got up and ran with us until we made it to the campgrounds and thankfully, there were still dozens of people there drinking and having fun. We screamed for help and without hesitation, tons of people got up and were ready to do battle. I had never experienced a community like that in my entire life.

Ben, along with ten other guys, ran back into the forested area looking for these guys. They came back a short time later and only found the bear masks that were left behind. They didn't find anything else, other than our tent had been robbed, which wasn't much, thankfully, a little bit of cash that we had left and that was everything. All of Chuck's stuff was gone as well, which was no surprise. The masks were horrifying. They weren't your cheap drugstore plastic masks, but real heavy masks with actual fur on them. They looked almost movie quality. We involved security and then the authorities and this just proved to be a waste of time. With thousands of people at this venue, they couldn't find the three guys. When I tried to get results with Chuck,

everything from the last few weeks appeared to be a lie. Chuck was not his real name. The phone we texted on was not a real phone and was already off. The place he told me he worked at was a complete lie as that place had never heard of Chuck or didn't even recognize his picture. Whoever Chuck and his friends were, they were completely off the grid. He had picked me up from my apartment a few times but luckily he never went inside so he didn't know which actual apartment was actually mine. I spent more than a few nights and weekends staying overnight with Jade and Ben just until I felt somewhat safe, even though I never felt safe in that apartment

complex and I eventually moved out about six months after this incident. I still thank Ben every day of my life for saving us in that horrible situation. I don't know what would have happened if Ben wasn't there. I'll never forget the fear that I felt in those brief moments and that is why I never go anywhere with a new significant other until I know that I fans of professional wrestling. I know for some people it's a bunch of big sweaty men slapping each other in their underwear, but for us, it was so much more. We love the athleticism, the stories, and the pageantry. And if you don't know anything else about wrestling, I can't stress enough about how much pageantry there is. Wrestling is often

larger than life, with essentially superheroes coming to life on stage in front of thousands. Sometimes some wrestling shows sell out entire football stadiums. However, the story is not a love letter to professional wrestling, but instead something much more sinister. This is a story about how my love for professional wrestling and my naive nature almost got me, seriously hurt or worse. Back in April of 2014, the largest wrestling company in the world, the WWE, was coming to my home state for the biggest wrestling show of the year, Wrestlemania. The show would be at the Superdome, which is where the New Orleans Saints play football.

WrestleMania weekend is an entire weekend affair. There are events to meet the wrestlers, a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, tailgating, and, of course, the main show, which is on Sunday evening. This wrestling show is like the Super Bowl for wrestling fans. The one thing about wrestling that is different compared to most other sports is the camaraderie of the fans. At a sports event, 9 times out of 10 most of the fans at the arena are for the hometown team, with a few fans of the visiting team. In wrestling, you have your good guys and bad guys and everybody has their favorites. But whether you like a wrestler or hate them, at the end of the day, everybody there is a fan of wrestling. There is more of a community among these fans than any sports teams that I had ever been to, and Wrestlemania is like the ultimate fan fest.

Until this point, I had always been a huge fan of wrestling, but never have gone to a major show. Nick and I partook in all the events over the weekend and were excited that Sunday was finally here. We had heard from guests at the hotel that we were staying at that fans were meeting at the stadium parking lot to tailgate before the event. The thought of partying with wrestling fans all day was an awesome thought to my brother and I. The next morning, we drove to the venue early and to our surprise, there were already hundreds if not thousands of fans already there. We parked the car and it was just like any other tailgating I've been to. People were eating, listening to music, throwing a football around and to top it off, it was a beautiful morning.

Within just a couple of hours, we had found a group of people that we stuck around, about our age and these people like the same wrestlers as us as well. It was only a matter of time until we all started wrestling with each other, just messing around but performing basic moves you would see on TV. I should say here that I am a big guy, I'm about 6'5 and I've got some muscles to my frame. I'm embarrassed to admit this now but at the time, being 21 years old, I wanted to be a professional wrestler more than anything in the world. This is where my naiveness almost doomed me. After we were jostling around, an executive looking woman came up to me. I say executive because she looked really corporate. A very fancy pants, suit, heels, and whole works. She pulled me aside, which at first made me nervous

because I didn't know if I was in trouble or something. Once we had a few feet distance from the group, she gestured for me to bend over a little bit so she could whisper to me, and she said, Hey, I saw your moves back there. You know, you have some talent and size, and I think you could make an excellent addition to our roster. I didn't know how to feel.

I was excited beyond comprehension. I didn't think to question this woman at all or ask about her credentials or anything. And like I said, I was naive and I loved wrestling and this woman knew that. With a smile that could light up a room, I responded in an excited tone. I'd love to be a part of your roster. More than anything in the world. She smiled back and said, Okay, well come with me. We're having this segment in the middle of the show tonight where a fan's gonna interfere and get in the ring.

You'll get to perform some spots before you get taken out. I nodded along with approval, not for one second thinking about how implausible this was. Wrestling takes years of training, and at the biggest show of the year they weren't just going to just throw some random guy to get in the ring and do moves. So, how does that sound? She said, and eagerly I just shouted, let's do it. I started to follow her as she began to walk away. I figured we were going to head into the stadium, but she started to walk in the opposite direction. I didn't ask where we were going because I was honestly just so pumped that I was going to live out one of my dreams.

When we got to the end of the parking lot, she pointed to a black SUV across the street. You see that SUV over there? Go with him. He's going to take you around to the back entrance to get ready. I again just smiled and nodded and made my way to the SUV. I knocked on the door to tell the driver that I was getting in and he just gestured back to me to get in. I got into the car and immediately started talking to this guy. He didn't say much and just kept nodding along with me. Through my excitement, I didn't realize that and just kept nodding along with me. Through my excitement, I didn't realize that we had been driving away from the stadium. In a tentative voice,

I asked the driver, excuse me, where are we going? The driver said nothing. Before I could troubleshoot my way out of the situation, he stopped the SUV outside of a run-down house. Get out of the vehicle now, the man said in an aggressive tone. I got out, figuring to myself if this was something weird, maybe I could just run. The driver told me to walk to the door and let myself in. When I turned to question the driver, he had his hand in his back pocket, almost as if he were concealing something. I don't know why I kept going along with this plan, which I now was figuring out was probably just some sort of setup. I walked inside, and there were about 10 or 15 guys if I had to guess.

The house itself was old and falling apart, the windows were boarded up and the roof in the living room had partially collapsed. Inside the house was another bigger guy like me. He looked scared and tense, much like what I imagine I look like at this point. The driver then came inside the house and locked the door behind him. With rage in his eyes, he pulled out a knife and looked at me and the other tense men and said, okay, you guys are going to fight right now. If you do what I say, you walk away. If you don't, you won't. The other guy and I looked at each other with the same look. We didn't want to fight. I turned back to the driver and tried to reason with him but before I could get any words out, he shouted over me in a very aggressive tone, fight now. The crowd of men that were in this room started to cheer and howl. I tried to size up the room, looking for a way out. I thought I

could see another door off the kitchen which was on the other side of the room. As I peered across the way, I felt an intense pain in my gut. The guy hit me finally. I looked at him as I leaned up in pain. The guy was crying and he hit me again. Adrenaline must have got a hold of me because I pushed the guy off of me and ran for that door knocking two other men over in the process. The door was somehow unlocked so I opened it and I ran as fast as I could. I could hear the men leaving the house and shutting car doors. I was running through backyards because I didn't want to be on the main road. After cutting through several yards I got back on

the main road and ran. I ran all the way back to my hotel. I called Nick who never made it into the show because he was still looking for me. He met me at the back of my hotel and we called the police right away and gave our statement. The cops found nobody at this house and the other fighter must not have called because they received no other reports. I waited for days to hear anything and nothing ever happened. After this event, I became a bit of a homebody. I never found out who tricked me that day or what their endgame was and I'm left with nothing but emotional scars and trauma. I often think about what would have happened if I didn't run to that

door if I wasn't a big guy. I always wonder what happened to the other fighter. I hope he was able to get free from whatever plans these men had. To end on a slightly positive note, I did contact WWE after this ordeal just to see if I could potentially have a refund and explain why I didn't make it to the show, and to their credit, not only did they give me a refund, but they gave me tickets to two upcoming shows of my choosing and a signed photograph from my favorite wrestler at the time. Not that any of that makes up for the trauma of that night, but at least there was some positive news that came out of being, in my mind, essentially human was working at a pizza chain in my hometown as a driver. I was 27 but made darn good money delivering. I had worked at a few other places both local and chain in the years before and still work as a dasher on occasion even after this happened. Now I choose to deliver in much safer areas for this reason. I get luckier

than I could ever imagine. One night I was working and had a double, two deliveries to take, and both were cash orders. I had $12 left in my bank. What drivers are given to use is changed for cash orders so you don't have a ton of cash on you at all times. The first order went smoothly. The guy gave me a 50 for a $35 order, so I was excited about the nice tip. I drove to the second delivery. It was at an apartment complex with multiple buildings. I had delivered there before. The sun was about to set, but it was still very light out.

The chain I worked at had us drive company cars with the logo on it, all white sedans. This is important. I grab the order and go to the door to the apartment building. A younger guy comes out and a much bigger older guy was outside smoking a cigarette. The big guy went inside as the smaller guy came out. He looked around nervously and asked how much he owed me. The way he was looking around just made me very nervous. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I told him the amount and he said that wasn't what he was told on the phone. Something was very wrong.

I felt someone else walk out behind me from the door as the first young guy looked around the parking lot, craning his neck as if he was looking for someone. I told him the amount again and broke down the order for him, trying to keep calm. Then the first guy held a gun right to my temple. I also felt a poke on my spine. Two gunmen. I couldn't speak. Words wouldn't form no matter how hard I tried. Give me your money and your keys. Now. The first guy growled and I fumbled immediately for the keys. I gave him my bank but hadn't realized the fifty was mixed in. I gave him the keys trying my best to remain calm. Another guy came up from my left. He had poofy hair and was around the same age as the first kid.

The one behind me I hadn't seen yet. The big haired kid grabbed the pizza bag and ran off and hid. The first kid searched the company car and luckily I had left my wallet in my personal car. I saw him grab my cell phone and that's when the panic began to set in. I had pictures on that phone that I hadn't backed up of my then five year old son who was absolutely my world. Please, please don't take that. I got pictures of my son who died on there. It's all I have of him. Please. No, I was lying. My son is very much alive. The kid behind me spoke softly. Trust me, just listen to him. You'll get it back undamaged. I don't want to be here either. I could tell he'd been crying by how his voice sounded.

The car began pulling in and the three boys took off to the other end of the complex in a full sprint. Before the one behind me ran, he dropped the gun in front of me. A standard issue 9mm silver and black. The safety was off and it looked completely real to me. He picked it back up and ran with the others. The car that pulled in saw me. It was a woman and her kid, and panic set in as I realized that they could easily come back and do way worse to me as the sky started to get dark. I collapsed. They had taken my company car keys, $72, the pizza, and my phone. The woman ran up to me and asked if I was alright.

She took me into her apartment in the next building over and locked the door. I was shaking so hard I couldn't even hold her phone to talk to 911 as she sat down her kid. Her boyfriend, I assume, helped me call. I spoke to the operator and told her everything. I'm colorblind and these guys were obviously wearing all black and white clothes, thank god. I had a full description of two of them and the poor woman who helped me was going to be late for work but she still stayed until I was off the phone and the cops had shown up. Man, she was harsh and blunt with the operator but I'll never forget this woman's utter kindness to me and her boyfriends.

Cops showed up and contacted my store and my manager brought over the spare keys for me to drive that car back to the store and after dealing with the cops I drove back and was greeted by crying and beyond worried co-workers. All of them were terrified that I was hurt. They meant a lot to me how much they cared but I told them I was fine. I filed the proper paperwork, and the 72 was written off as a loss to the store. Thank God, because I had worked other stores that may you pay back the money out of pocket if you get robbed to prevent drivers from stealing. I was told by the owner to take the rest of the night off and take care of myself. He gave me a hug, and he was to this day one of the best bosses I've ever had. What I didn't know was I was in for a very long night. I called my best friend before

I left the store from the store phone and asked where he was. We usually meet up for drinks after work. He was around the corner at a bar so I met up with him. His dad was a district 4 cop in my city at the time, the same district that this happened in. He told me his dad had given him a heads up and he had two shots waiting for me to calm my nerves. After the two shots, we began playing pool when his dad called his phone and asked if I was with him yet. He said yeah and handed me the phone. His dad asked if I could come to the station. I was honest and told him that I had two shots, so he sent out a squad car to get me since it wasn't that far away. We get to the station, and they had suspects in custody, and I was needed to ID them.

Three boys and a driver. They'd been caught less than 20 minutes after the robbery, speeding. The bee on the lookout had already gone out and they matched the description. They'd used the money to buy weed and gas and had taken off. They had at least 15 stolen cell phones on them. The order had been placed on a stolen phone, and my phone was in the mix in the box. The police told me to grab my phone only and I did. They asked me to unlock it. It had fingerprint verification so that was easy. None of the ten tries to unlock it had already been used before

my phone would have completely reset. It unlocked. I told the police every detail yet again, although my parental instincts kicked in. I told them the guy behind me quite obviously was bullied into this and to show mercy and he was the one with the white shirt. The police went wide-eyed and told me he was the one talking. The other three denied involvement, and that's when I found out about the fourth guy, the driver. We found out later that he was completely unaware of the robbery and was just picking up his friends, and he was never charged. The boy who was behind me and the one who grabbed the pizza were 15 and 16 and got 6 months of house arrest. The only reason the one behind me got off easy despite

having the gun to my back was because I asked him to go easy on him and that he was a good kid who didn't want to be there, and he was the only one confessing. Makes sense since he had said that the other guys wouldn't have the phone for long. He was planning on going to the cops had they not been caught. But the other guy, the first kid who put the gun to my temple, it was his 18th birthday and he got the book thrown at him. In the courtroom, he made fun of me and was laughing at me and seeing him made me panic. The judge scolded him for his behavior and he just grinned and glared at me with a joker-like grin. And all I could see in his eyes was pure evil. This kid would definitely commit more crimes. I had no doubt that he would eventually end someone's life. You can see how

cold he is just by looking in his eyes. He's evil incarnate. I grew up in a town full of murderers and abusers, and I had never seen this kind of evil in my life, and I never want to see it again. I asked to have my name stricken from the records and asked to remain anonymous in case he ever got out. And I'm so glad I did, because today I got a letter from the state. He's being released in February. The court only had my old address, my parents' house,

and my mom didn't think the letter was important. I missed the deadline to protest his release for probation. The plea deal was eight years and it's only been four. He's getting out early due to overcrowding. Not good behavior. Overcrowding. And this coming February. And I'm ready if he finds me. My wife, my parents, everyone I know knows his face and name. If he tries anything, we're all ready. But for his sake, let's not meet. And to the woman in her family who helped me, I was a woman then. I'm trans now and if you see this, please know my undying gratitude for you all. It was inconvenient for you and yet you still were late to work to help me and I cannot thank you enough.

I bought Christmas presents for your daughter but when I went to the landlord there to find you, you had moved. I didn't want to be a creep and stalk your new place but I'm glad you got out of that bad neighborhood and I hope your beautiful baby girl is doing well. I would gladly meet you again and give you the proper thanks you deserve. From the Domino's Driver in Southwest Ohio. Many years ago, when I was just 11 years old, my parents went away on some kind of work-related event. They were pharmacists working for the same company, so my brother and I had the house to ourselves. I also feel like I should add that my brother was 17 or 18 at the time and my parents deemed him old and responsible enough to take care of me. On the evening we were home alone, we got pizza and watched movies and had the best afternoon ever, along with our

adorable German shepherd dog who was called Chaka. When it got dark, some boys from school showed up at our front gate calling for me. My brother stayed inside, peeking through the curtains as I went outside to greet them. I knew them well from school and was puzzled by their appearance since kids didn't usually go out in the neighborhood after dark. But soon, the reason for their visit became apparent. There was an older guy with them that immediately made me feel uncomfortable. He looked to be maybe 18 to 20 years old and was leaning up against our fence. The way he looked at me made my skin crawl, but one of the boys hurriedly said that it was one of his cousins and I should ignore him.

When I asked what they wanted, they said that they was one of his cousins and I should ignore him. When I asked what they wanted, they said that they wanted to show me something. I told them no, that it was late and that I wanted to stay inside. They then told me okay and that they'd leave if I did something for them. One of the boys then turned around and got something that he had hidden behind the lamppost. Then he returned with a brown bottle, filled with liquid, with a label removed. It was already open when he told me to drink from it. I refused, but they just kept insisting that I drink, saying it wasn't that strong, it tasted good, and that I'd be fine. My heart was beating in my chest, and I nervously played with the latch on the fence door. I just wanted them to leave,

and I turned to give my brother a look, but he wasn't watching from the window anymore. Then suddenly, right when I thought that I might have been in some serious trouble, Chaka, our dog, appeared from behind me and planted his bottom on my feet. He was a very big dog, and this low, deep rumble started to grow louder and louder as he growled. He stared the guy down who hastily let go of the latch and backed away. The two boys also backed off quickly. It was as if Chaka sensed my fear and came to give me his strength. He would fight for me. I told them to go away and leave. I didn't want to drink their stuff. My dog sat like a statue on my feet until they disappeared back into the darkness.

My brother said that he was watching the entire time for any signs of trouble and couldn't believe how brave Chaka had been, but I knew that wasn't true. If it wasn't for Chaka, things might have gotten far far worse with the boys. When my dad heard about it, he gave Chaka a big stake as a reward. Chaka was my guardian angel. I still love and think of him, as he passed in 2008. He was starting to go grey around his mouth when my story happened, and loved snoozing on the kitchen floor.

Whenever I was alone at home, Chaka would follow me all around the house. He would even escort me to the bathroom or relax in the doorway with his eyes always watching the front door. He had a good long life and was an amazing friend. We all still love him dearly, but I feel like my experience that evening made it so I loved him a little bit more than the rest of my family. On my 19th birthday in September 2014, I had moved into my first home, a small one-bed flat. I was beyond excited to have the freedom and independence that living alone would offer me and quickly set about buying new furniture, decorations, and items for my home. One afternoon on the bus home after a trip into my local town to buy more household items, an elderly gentleman in his late 60s, if I had to guess, started speaking to me.

I've always been a social person that'll gladly speak to whoever speaks to me, so I engaged him in the conversation. Just polite chit-chat about what we'd been up to that day, what our plans were for the rest of it. Upon reaching the stop that I'd be getting off at, he told me that he also was getting off at this stop as he was visiting a friend who lived in a neighboring block of flats. He offered to help me carrying my shopping and I agreed. I walked with him on the front of my block and said my goodbyes. He left towards a different

block and I thought that was that. He didn't enter my building or see which flat belonged to me or so I thought. A few days later I heard a knock upon my door. I opened it to find the same elderly gentleman standing outside my door. I was quite taken aback considering that he shouldn't know which flat I actually lived in. He also managed to get into the building without ringing my doorbell. The realization hit me that he must have hidden out of sight to watch which flat that I entered. The block had large windows in the communal area. He quickly forced his way into my home and tried talking to me. I lied and stated that I was about to leave as my friends were expecting me, hoping that this would encourage

him to go. He then started groping me under my clothes and underwear. He moved his hands away but he kept trying to remove my clothes. I ran to my front door and told him, I'm leaving now, you need to go. Luckily he did but loitered. I waited to make sure that he'd walked away before walking in an opposite direction and immediately calling my dad and I was in tears. We rang the police who were as unhelpful as they could possibly be, two female officers who asked me why did you let him into the flat, despite me saying that he forced his way in. They encouraged me not to press charges as the name and address he'd given me in our first exchange was falsified, telling me it would be

difficult to prove a lot of paperwork and you have to relive it in court if we did manage to find him. And I regretfully agreed. I was shocked and scared and the police already were so unsupportive. And it doesn't end there though. This man continued to stalk me for months, regularly appearing at my door, following me when I was out, and it wasn't until he was on the same bus as me to town when I went to meet friends that it finally stopped as this was the first time I was able to point him out to someone. My friends went over and publicly called him out for stalking and harassing me. They threatened him saying, if we ever hear of you doing this again, you'll not be able to

use those arms to abuse another person. You leave our friend alone. He quickly scampered away and that's the last I ever saw of him. But this incident shook me. It all happened simply because I was polite to a seemingly innocent elderly man who wanted to help me and make conversation. Needless to say, I've never accepted another offer of helping me carry my shopping. Be careful who you let help you. It might not be good intentions they have in mind. We've all had bad dates, right? This is the only date I've had to this point that rang every alarm bell and waved every red flag. I'll preface this by saying that

I don't go on many dates but when I do, I make sure I follow safety protocol by only meeting my date in public places, let either family or friends know where I'm going and park in a populated place close by to wherever we meet. Anyway, this date initially suggested that we meet at his house to watch a movie and have a few drinks and I said no, I don't feel comfortable with that and I only want to meet in public. He seemed okay with this but then brought it up a few more times and said if money is an issue, we can meet up another time or forget about it altogether. But my date backtracked and went with my idea of meeting at a cafe that I chose, that I was familiar with and equidistant to where we both lived. Anyway, he turns up in a two-door car, this detail is relevant, and goes into the cafe and I follow behind and introduce myself. After a polite introduction,

things begin to get weird. I order a coke and he says, don't you want a drink? I was going to pop into the bar, which is connected to the cafe, and get one. I say no, I'm not drinking and he looks at me like WTF as if though I'm being unreasonable. I already explained in messages that I don't drink as I'm on medication so having to re-explain it again started to make me angry. He seems disappointed and goes to order a cider from the bar while I get a table. Anyway, we sit down with our drinks and the date immediately goes on about back to his place again even though the original plan was to stay here and order food and I already stated that that was not happening. He says something along the lines of having a few

drinks and eating at his place and I said we don't have to eat we can just have our drinks and leave. He gets defensive and says he has money but prefers if we go back to his. I make a joke and say, you're not a killer are you? And instead of laughing it off he stares at me uncannily and says, you don't think I would hurt you do you? I laugh uncomfortably and say, of course not, but really I'm relieved this date won't be going any further. The date suddenly says, are you going to follow me in your car because that wouldn't make sense. How about we just go

in my car, but I got packages in the front so you'll have to squeeze in the back and I'll drop you back off of your car after. In reality, that made less sense than me following his car and driving home from his house. The fact that it was completely illogical made it even more creepy in my mind. Every alarm bell was going off at this point and I said, look, I don't want to go to yours and your insistence is giving me the creeps. Date looks shocked, mumbles something about needing the toilet and excuses himself from the table. A few moments later, I see him through the cafe window getting into his car and driving off. Massive bullet dodged in my opinion.

Also, the fact his car didn't have back doors made it even more sinister because imagine if something happened in the car and I'm only posting now because I want to warn others. This is quite difficult to talk about and for reasons that'll become clear. In 2017 I went to a friend's birthday. It was their 40th birthday so it was a pretty big deal. I had recently lost my job and I was struggling with my mental health but I had a very supportive husband and a good family life. And it was a private party, what could go wrong? My husband was supposed to go with me but our child care arrangements fell through at the last moment. I didn't want to go without my husband but he felt I needed a night out with friends and the birthday girl kept asking if I was coming so

I went. It was a private party and everyone there had been invited by the birthday girl. There was a half dozen people that I knew really well. Everyone else was a stranger but I assumed that the birthday girl had good judgment and everyone present was okay. We were all having a great time, laughing and dancing and at one point I stepped outside to cool down and smoke a cigarette. A fellow party goer, a male, joined me and we talked about the birthday girl, how we knew her and we talked about football and it turned out that we were from the same city and supported the same team. We returned to the party and he asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no and raised my glass to show him that I already had one. I then put my drink down and went to dance with my friend.

When I returned from the dance floor I took a big gulp of my drink and after that it all gets a little hazy. The rest of the story is pieced together from various sources and photos. There is a photo of the male party guests and me with the venue's door staff. I'm smiling at the camera with my arm around the security man and the male party guests next to me kissing my cheek. I don't remember this. There is a photo of me and that person. I'm leaning against him with my eyes closed. I don't remember this. There is a photo of me and that person. I'm leaning against him with my eyes closed and I don't remember this. And I woke up the next morning at home. On the sofa, my husband was initially furious about the state that I came

home in but he didn't know how bad it could have been. Apparently several friends saw the male party guest trying to guide me into a waiting car and stopped him. When they challenged him, he said I had agreed to leave with him but I was incoherent at this point and I have no recollection of this by the way. A female friend, N, took me home and I don't remember this but I know my friend saved me from something obviously horrible. Once my husband knew what had happened, he was very supportive and concerned, and told my husband how quickly my behavior had changed and how quickly I had become uncoordinated and incoherent. And this all took place five years ago. I saw my friend recently, and she told me that that male party goer is currently in prison for assaulting his girlfriend

in 2020. Please remember, always be careful with your drink, never leave it unattended. Watch out for your friends and make sure they're watching out for you. My entire primary school experience felt like a fever dream, but I don't think I could fit it all in a post, so instead, I'm choosing to tell the most bizarre experience in my schooling life. In my school, the language sub that I was taking had teachers leaving almost every three months. Some due to finding a job with higher wages, this teacher however, left due to a very disturbing attitude towards kids, 8 to 10. This teacher is Mr. John. He came to our school during the second semester of grade 5, my class. He was not only a language teacher, but a PE and arts teacher as well, despite not having

any experience in either fields. At first, he made a good impression, cracking jokes and giving helpful advice. However, one day, he started deferring to very mature topics while he was teaching. He would talk about paintings but somehow divert the conversation to body odor and what kind of object that would emit such terrible smells such as excrement. He would go too much into detail about excrement, nothing you learn from bio, to the point where it's not funny but kind of disturbing. He later talked about puberty, which at first seems normal, but later talked about how puberty changes your such and such body parts and other feelings you get. We were eight, and he then showed pictures of his ex-girlfriend

when she was 17 and her selfies. She was getting married, and he had showed pictures of his ex-girlfriend when she was 17 and her selfies. She was getting married, and he had her photos in a file on his computer. The final blow was him taking off his shirt and showing every scar and injury that was inflicted on him, and he forced us all to look at them. We were so uncomfortable. Finally, I complained to the principal along with a few others and he tried to find those who complained about him. He asked around and interrogated two of my friends and thankfully, he was let go. Back in 2019, I, an 18-year-old female, decided to download Tinder a few months after a rough

breakup. I was very inexperienced with dating and pretty shy so it seemed unlikely that I would meet a potential partner in person. Anyway, after a few matches that really led to nothing, I came across the profile of someone that I found very attractive. It was a 21-year-old male. We matched, exchanged Snapchats, and continued to set up a date. Our first date was relatively normal and enjoyable.

We saw a movie, and by the end of it, I felt like we hit it off. However, our relationship was extremely short-lived. Not long after, I had agreed to be his girlfriend, about a month after going out, and he began to behave very erratically, and would sometimes fall completely silent in the middle of conversation, ignoring me when I tried to ask him what was wrong. He became hot-tempered, slamming doors and speeding on the road when he was mad. I started to feel really uncomfortable about our relationship. This went on for about a few weeks

until one night when we were on our way to have dinner downtown, he felt silent mid-conversation. I became extremely anxious as he pulled into a nearby parking garage wondering what I had done to upset him. As we parked, I decided to ask him what was wrong. He didn't answer. When I asked him again, he shouted at me to shut up. I was completely frozen for a moment, but I finally got up the courage to tell him that we were done, gathered my belongings from the car, and walked over to the nearest coffee shop to call an Uber. It was fairly late at night, so I walked as fast as I

could, hoping that he wouldn't follow me. When I made it to the shop, I noticed that I had several missed calls from him. When I made it home that night, I blocked him on all social media and decided never to contact him again. I'm fairly familiar with the dynamic of toxic relationships and I knew that if he could talk to me that way, completely unprompted, it was likely that he was capable of much more. About a week goes by as I start to settle my emotions a bit. I decided to confide in a friend who had never met the guy about what happened, feeling completely embarrassed. A few nights later I received a text from the same friend. It was a screenshot of an Instagram DM from someone she didn't follow, my now ex. It said something to the effect of, hey, I'm sorry we're having to meet like this,

but redacted, is ignoring me and I needed to talk to her. My heart sunk. I decided to message all my friends separately and let them know what happened, just in case. Later that week I started receiving several DMs from various accounts, all without profile pictures or posts. Eventually, I gave in and responded to one, asserting that the relationship was over and that I didn't want to hear from him again. I blocked the accounts immediately afterwards. As time went on, without hearing a word in weeks, I figured that I had reached the end

of the situation, until one morning while I was walking to my car, I noticed something dangling around the handle of my car door. It was a necklace I gave him. He'd only picked me up once from my house before, and the thought of him driving to my house about a half hour from his place earlier that night freaked me out. I was shaken up for a while. It was by no means an expensive necklace, and I had the exact same one, but I kept it. I thought maybe it was his way of acknowledging that we were done. Two months later, I was working my job at a small boutique near my house. I was used to

answering the phone several times a day, so when the phone rang, I thought nothing of it. But when I picked it up, I immediately recognized his voice. He started rambling about wanting a sweatshirt back, but I hung up before he could finish and that was the last time I would ever tell someone I was dating where I worked. I was completely lost at this point, especially considering that he had never called me at work while we were together. I didn't even know how he knew that I was working that day and time. I told my older sister the situation and she, being very protective, decided to message him herself. She told him to leave me alone and even offered to give him back the sweatshirt for me. He refused and insisted on meeting up with

me in person to get it. When it became abundantly clear that he didn't actually want the sweatshirt back, she threatened him with a PPO to which he never responded. And that was the last time I heard from work. As I was walking back to my car, I saw a couple walking a fluffy white husky dog. A big dog, and in my head, I marveled at how fluffy the dog was, as I love dogs. I got to my car, and as I was climbing in, I heard a female how fluffy the dog was, as I love dogs. I got to my car and as I was climbing in, I heard a female voice say something unintelligible. I glanced around, saw the guy who had his dog standing behind the car next to me, which struck me as odd and a little disconcerting.

I hit the door lock button immediately. I started my car and as I did, I noticed a girl standing on my passenger side, peering into my window, her mouth moving. But I couldn't hear what she was saying. She clearly wanted me to roll down the window. Oh no. No, no, no, no. Oh god, no. Not a chance.

I've watched way too many true crime shows to even consider this and... Do you know how many women go missing from grocery store parking lots? Neither do I. But based on what I've watched, a whole lot. I made eye contact for a half a second, shook my head sternly and put my car into gear. I reversed out of the spot, careful not to hit her, but while also completely ignoring her as she got more and more distraught, waving her arms and flailing at my car. She was wearing pajamas from what I could see and getting more and more upset at me ignoring her. Her partner remained in the shadows with the dog, seemingly unaware that I had already clocked him and was watching him too. There was a tiny

part of my brain asking what if she needed help, and a much bigger part of my brain that said nope. If they needed help, they can go in the store and ask them to call 911. Also, there were two of them and only one of me. I'm outnumbered, plus they have a huge dog. Why in God's name would they ask a small young lone woman in a parking lot for help unless they had some sort of nefarious intentions? My mind went to drugs, maybe, and I'm almost certain that they would be asking for money or a ride somewhere even more sketchy or some form of assistance and nah, not having it. I am under no obligation to help anyone, and neither are you, especially a stranger. Also,

you know what? I've helped plenty of people today. I've helped people under careful, cautious observation. I work as people under careful, cautious observation. I work as a caregiver in a nursing home. If you're approaching a young woman in a dark parking lot at 10.30 at night, I sincerely doubt you contribute anything positive to my life, and I owe you absolutely nothing. Mama ain't raised no fool. I'm not sure how to start this story, so I'm just going to go ahead with it. My boyfriend, a 20-year-old male, and I, a 21-year-old female, live alone and we both work weird hours.

He leaves for work at around 10.30pm and I leave around 4am. It started to get cold outside and I drive a 30-year Honda so it takes a while to warm up. One morning I went outside at around 3.45am to start my car so it would be warmed up by the time I was leaving for work. When I went outside to start my car there was nobody else outside and no other cars that I could see besides the one parked in my neighbor's driveways. There was not a car parked in front of my house. Then at 4am it was time for me to leave. I got all my stuff ready and was walking to my car and as I'm walking I hear a man yell, hey. I ignored it because obviously it's 4am and dark outside and I'm a female, I don't know. But I noticed his car was parked

directly in front of my house, which is honestly weird to me by itself. So then again, he yelled hey, but it was a bit louder this time. I still refused to even look in that direction and pretended I didn't hear him. He yelled over and over again, hey, can I get a jump? Asking me to jump his car. It kept getting louder each time and seemed like he was starting to get frustrated. At this point, all I was thinking was this guy was not here 15 minutes ago. He kept getting louder each time and seemed like he was starting to get frustrated. At this point all I was thinking was this guy was not here 15 minutes ago. How did he suddenly pull up and his car died conveniently right in front of my house all within 15 minutes? So anyway, I continued to pretend that I didn't hear him, got in my car and immediately locked the doors and left. As I was driving away I kept my eyes on the mirrors and when I got about a block and a half away I saw his car start up and he drove

away completely fine. It didn't look like he needed a jump at all. So why was he asking me for a jump if his car could start up just fine? What would have happened if I actually did try to go help? I could be overreacting but to me the whole situation seems suspicious. My grandma always said that a man would never ask a woman for help especially with a car and my boyfriend said one time that he wouldn't even approach a female at night just for the simple fact that it made them uncomfortable. I told him what happened and he said it was weird as well. I don't know if it could have been a trafficking tactic, kidnapping tactic, all that kind of stuff, but it was definitely strange. One of my friends joked that someone could be watching my house and I get that they were trying to be funny and lighten the mood,

but it's definitely kind of scary when you have an experience like that. Especially because if someone was watching my house, they would know that I was completely alone for hours at night. Do you have any thoughts? I'm still trying to wrap my head around this and figure out if I'm overreacting or not. And this was just a few nights ago and honestly I've been kind of scared going out to my car or just being alone in general at night since. A few years back, I was living with my aunt and uncle after moving to a new state. They had just moved into a new home in a new suburb development. In this area, door-to-door salesmen swarm new developments and new builds for water softeners, cleaning supplies, solar panels, generators, and the Kirby vacuum people. They wandered the neighborhood all day knocking on doors, but were usually gone by around 5pm. This particular evening, I was home alone with my dog, a mutt who was mostly

black lab and an unknown mixture. He was roughly the size and weight of a full-breed Labrador, but he had a stockier build and long wiry hair. He was a gentle sweet baby who was upset if someone spoke harshly to him and I'd never known him to be threatening to anyone. My aunt and uncle were out celebrating their anniversary. This time of the year the days were getting longer and we would have full dark by around 8pm.

It was about 7pm and starting to get dusky when someone rang the doorbell and knocked on the door. The door was one of those with thick glass oval windows and I could see the door and who was there from the kitchen. I was going to ignore them but unfortunately they could see me and continued to knock so I went to answer the door. My dog followed me but stood off to the side in the shadows of the dining room. The person at the door was a young man about college age, dressed in a collared shirt and tie and khakis. He looked a bit like a Mormon missionary person. He was thin and about my height, about 5'9". I figured that he was a salesman of some sort but thought it was odd that he was out

this late in the day. I thought I'd open the door a crack, tell him that I'm not interested and then lock the door again. I open the door a few inches to speak through it and he starts to spiel about Kirby vacuum cleaners and he wants to come in and give a demo. One, this is not my house. And two, I know once they get in they aren't leaving without selling something and I have no need for an overpriced vacuum and I don't have a thousand dollars to spend anyway. I tell him no thanks I'm not interested and begin to close the door when he puts his foot between the door and the door jam and throws his hand up to stop the door from closing. This is when I'm

thinking what is happening And I hear a vicious growling behind me and to my right and then a loud deep bark bark bark as my dog lunges for the door. I grab his collar to keep him from going out the door and the guy's mouth drops open. His eyes get really wide and he looks like he's ready to pass out or pee himself as he jumps back from the door and backs away saying, oh sorry, I'm sorry, wrong house, wrong house, and then turns and runs to the end of the driveway where a car with three men in it pulls up to get him and they speed off, tires literally squealing. I told my aunt and uncle about it when they got home and we told a few neighbors so they could keep an eye out for any unusual behavior. It's possible that they were a team of curvy salesmen.

They do travel in teams of four, I guess, and follow the door knockers in the car with a vacuum, but I was suspicious because it was late in the day for them to be knocking on doors and it was a team of four men. Usually they have a team with two or more women in the group because they are knocking on the doors at a time of day when women are going to be home alone and unlikely to let strange men in. So, a team of Kirby salesmen working late at night quotas or a team of home invaders. I don't know, but I'm just thankful that Cosmo, my dog,

wasn't going to take chances. We moved into a suburban house in the southern U.S. a few years back. When the pandemic hit, I found myself working remotely. It was great since I spent more time with my family and didn't have to spend two hours in traffic. However, being home a majority of my week exposed me and my family to a variety of strange encounters that have only escalated through the years. Early in the pandemic, we got a knock on the door mid-morning. I was in a meeting, but I heard my partner open the door. I could tell by the voice that it was our next-door neighbor, an older woman who lived alone. She was in the process of moving and had stopped by every day or so to give us a few odds and ends that she didn't want to take with her. However, within a few seconds, my partner called my name

with a worried tone. I excused myself from the meeting and head over to our landing which is open to the front door below. Both my partner and the neighbor look slightly panicked. The neighbor says that there's a strange man sitting on our back wall. What do we do? Now for context, my house is on a greenbelt. There's about 500 yards of woods and field until you hit a four lane road and small shopping plaza. Our back wall is smooth, made of concrete and about 6.5 feet high. The ground on the greenbelt side is sloped, which ends up making the wall about 7 feet high on the greenbelt side. A taller person with considerable effort could probably scale it.

I initially think that there's no way someone is up on that wall right now, but sure enough, as I run downstairs and look through the back sliding glass door, there's a middle-aged man smoking a cigarette with both feet hanging into my yard. He's kind of lazily staring at the back of mine and my neighbor's houses and my adrenaline starts to kick in. My kid's swing set and toys are in the backyard. I hate confrontation but I seem to be automatically moving to open the back door. My partner asks what I'm doing. I open the door and step out onto the porch and start walking across the yard.

As I'm getting closer I can tell the guy is bugging and probably homeless. He notices me when I get about six feet from him. I'm trying to stay calm and not escalate things. Hey man, what are you doing up there? He gestures around him. Enjoying my view? I interrupt. Yeah, you gotta get down and go somewhere else, man.

He just kind of stares at me and swings a leg over the side but stays put. Just please get off my property. I say more forcefully this time, trying to hide my wavering in my voice. Yeah, yeah, okay. He slides the other leg around and jumps down, disappearing from view. I never saw this person again, thankfully. Now a few months later, I'm working from home.

My partner and kids are gone, so I'm alone. There's a knock at the door. Usually I ignore them unless I'm expecting someone, and most of the time it's either Amazon or a solicitor. They usually knock once and then take off. However, this person leans on the doorbell and knocks again. Annoyed, I leave the office to go see who it is. I make my way to the door and can hear a muffled conversation taking place on the other end

before I can look through the peephole. I look and see four people all dressed like they're heading to a business lunch. Two men in their mid-twenties, an older man, and a young woman towards the back that couldn't have been more than twenty to twenty-one. I slowly open the door out of curiosity and the older man immediately gets uncomfortably close and starts speaking forcefully in a language I don't understand. It takes my brain a moment to catch up. I can't understand what I start saying.

And he pauses and asks in English, You can't speak Russian? No. Then there's a long moment where we all just kind of stare at each other And he looks like he doesn't believe me, glaring Where's the nearest Russian church? He asks, while the others stand silently behind him I have no clue I genuinely have no idea if such things exist in the southern United States

He thanks me, and then they all walk back to their nondescript sedan and take off. They did not stop at any of their houses on the street. For context, I didn't grow up in a good area. I won't give location for privacy's sake, I live in a fairly large city and at the time I was around 10 or 11. This was overall not a good area. Lots of gang activity, drug use, that kind of thing. One of those neighborhoods with the jacked up sidewalks and shopping carts strewn everywhere. There was a park a couple of blocks away from my house and I decided to go on a run and spend some time there on my own. I don't know why I was allowed to leave on my own, knowing the area. It was still light out when I jogged down there, but it started getting dark when I actually reached the park. It was around dusk.

The layout of the park was a big rectangle, basically. It faced out long ways, so the shorter side was where the gate was. There was a set of swings at the very front and I sat down to hang out there a bit. At the time, I didn't have a phone with service, I just had music downloaded to listen to it. I was sitting with my earbuds in and just got this really awful feeling. It felt like a tingling on my back and I knew something was up. I took one earbud out and kept swinging, but I couldn't shake that feeling. Finally, I turned around to check behind me. There was an alleyway leading into the park that curved so you could only see part of the way down. It was all white gravel. Down the alley was a dumpster, and there was a figure on the

ground with a ton of red stuff around him, which I now know was blood, and another guy standing, walking fast towards me. The alley was across the playground, about 40 feet away maybe, and as soon as I saw the man approaching me, I just dipped out of there. He had something in his hand that I couldn't see, but he was holding it like a knife or a pair of scissors. I sprinted the couple of blocks back to my house and got in through the back to make sure no one saw me. I didn't tell my dad until years later and he fully believed me. That area was bad news and I'm amazed something bad didn't happen to me with how much I was let out alone. I just got back from a family vacation in Las Cabos, Mexico. We stayed at a nice western resort and usually at around 9.30pm, my family would head back to their rooms to go to sleep.

Naturally, as a 25-year-old, I wanted to stay up and party or go drinking at bars, but my older brother was working remotely and wouldn't go out with me. After the family went to bed, I went out to a bar around the corner from my hotel and ended up befriending the locals there and a 29-year-old guy from San Diego named Luke who was there for a wedding. We started hanging out every night after my family went to sleep and on the third night of the trip, Luke asked if I wanted to meet him in downtown Las Cabos with his friends. I really wanted to, but I was at an important dinner with my family that went on later than usual. I ended up staying at home that night. The next night, I met him at this huge Pablo Escobar-esque mansion that they rented on Airbnb, and he told me that it was good that I couldn't make it out the night before because of how scary of an experience it was. He explained to me that the night before his buddy was peeing outside and someone approached him and held out a key with a bump of coke on it. Without thinking, he snorted the bump and the person who offered it was now demanding that he buy an $80 bag from them. He was drunk and refused while getting pretty aggressive towards them. Things

went from bad to worse as the Mexican who offered the bumps started following their group from bar to bar for the next three hours, taking pictures of them. He called his friends and there were now a group of them following behind and claiming to be affiliated with the cartel. They warned that if Luke's buddy didn't pay them, that they were going to call their boss. Luke eventually went over and tried to smooth things over. They told him his friends had stolen from them and that it was going to cost him his life if someone didn't pay up. The cartel member also pulled his shirt up, revealing a 9mm pistol in his waistband. Luke did the right thing and remained calm while offering to take them to an ATM to pay out of pocket

$160 US so they could all be left alone The cartel members gave him an empty coke bag and abruptly left Even after doing all of this for his friend's safety His friend denied any responsibility or wrongdoing And even had the audacity to blame Luke for trying to help by getting involved He also didn't offer Luke a single dollar. After this event happened, Luke got robbed again in the same night with a girl who ripped his $200 gold necklace right off his neck. This friend was cool to me

but sounded like a real jerk after Luke explained this to me. Poor dude was just trying to be a good friend and was met with no gratitude, only to be robbed again. Needless to say, I'm very happy that I didn't make it out to meet them that night. I also think that things could have gotten a lot worse for them had he not offered the cartel members money. Be careful out there and never accept free drugs from strangers on the street of Mexico, or really anywhere. It always comes with a price. To be continued... 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.

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