The Lets Read Podcast - 232: SEARCH & RESCUE TEAM CONFESSIONS | 31 True Scary Stories | EP 220

Episode Date: March 26, 2024

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Search & Rescue, Tattoo Artists, & Japan... 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/

I I began volunteering in search and rescue during college. After school ended, I joined on as a part-time employee and stayed for a year until I got a full-time job. I spent the majority of my life in those mountains. My dad had been taking us there since I was five and I spent more time there when I began learning to rock climb at 13. It wasn't long before I began regretting my decision. I lasted almost a year at my new place until I could fight the call of the mountains no longer. I contacted my old boss and he agreed to take me back as a full-time employee. It would be a sizable decrease in pay but I was willing to take the hit.

That would be where I would stay for ten years until my first son was born, and I was forced to take a higher-paying job in California. My memory isn't quite what it used to be, and therefore I figured that I better tell my most important story before it slips away forever. The story actually began a few months after I returned and would go unresolved for almost 15 years. It started with a report of a female hiker that had gone missing. Before setting off on her journey,

she checked in with the rangers at the nearby station. They contacted us after she never returned. Within a few hours, we were all together, briefed and on the trail in search for her. The search would go on for another two days until weather set in and stopped it. The weather kept us off the mountain for almost a week and when we were finally able to return, the search had become more of a retrieval operation. I'm sad to say even after almost a month of searching we never found a single sign of her.

Not a track, a piece of clothing, nothing. Little did we know at the time this search would be one of many related searches for years to come. After that search we would go on to have three or four more successful ones. Then, on a cold foggy fall evening, we received a call of a missing couple. They had been registered to camp for a week, but after about four days were reported missing. Upon arriving at their camp, there were signs that someone had rummaged through their tent. Many of their things had been destroyed and possibly even stolen. It appeared to be foul play, and luckily some members of the sheriff's department had been training with us at the time. They were able to ensure that nothing was messed up during that search or anything we did would hinder the investigation or eventual trial.

Just before dark on the second day, we discovered the couple. Both had been almost certainly murdered. The female appeared to also have been violated, it seemed, and the deputies took over the scene from there, so that's the extent of what I know about that case. Now once the fall gave way to winter, things were relatively quiet until spring came along. A few climbers came up missing, but were quickly found safely. And when the first spring thaw came along, an unexpected surprise was uncovered. A group of men were out maintaining the trails as they did every year and came across a body of a young female. The situation was quite confusing as we had no reports of missing women in the park or in the surrounding area.

As far as I know, that poor woman remains unidentified to this day. We had little time to regroup when another young woman came up missing. She had been camping with a group of friends and became separated from them at some point. We had been called in late in the day, so I had little time to search. By midday the next day, we came across her clothing neatly folded on a ledge. More than 50 feet below lay the Columbia River where she was assumed to have plunged to her death. Without any evidence to the contrary, her disappearance had been ruled that she had taken her own life, and that was the end of it, or it would be until what came next. The next major search we undertook would stir up the suspicion that there may be a serial killer

at work in that area. As was customary, when a couple did not check in with the ranger on their way out, we were contacted to begin the search. Naturally, we started at the camping spot. Strangely, there was no sign of their camping equipment anywhere. Considering there was a possibility that they'd moved on to another spot, we moved on further up the trail to look for a new campsite. Two days passed and there was still no sign of them or their equipment. The third day would be when the body of the male was

found wedged in a small cave. His body showed signs of foul play very similar to the bodies of other homicide victims we'd discovered in the last few years. Law enforcement would start to put things together. It was all they really had at this point, but it was something at least. Once the pattern was discovered, the local officials did everything they could to keep it quiet. They feared that this would destroy the tourism industry in which the area relied so much on. Even when it did make it out to the press, it was denied and labeled a conspiracy theory. Supposedly, most, if not all of the deaths, could be assumed to be animal attacks. Few believed it, but it remained the official

story until the killers were caught nearly two decades later. The press did have the positive effect of ending the disappearances. We all held our breath, dreading the next missing female or couple case to occur, but after a year, it looked like a spree had come to an end. After my time in search and rescue ended, I moved on with my life for the most part. From time to time, I would contact friends back home and catch up. The serial killings and disappearances never came up. Out of the blue though, I got an email from one of those old friends. By now, over 15 years had passed since the crimes ended. I clicked the link and what came up made my jaw drop. All these years later, two men had

been arrested in connection with the crimes. A piece of clothing had been retested for DNA, and two separate samples were found. These samples were run through a database, and the pair were a match. Both were doing prison time for assaulting women at the time. And further down, the article claimed that one of the men cut a deal and confessed to his and the other man's involvement in the murders. Although the article didn't go into specifics, it was said that everything the man had said matched the evidence. The man gave the authorities the locations of the bodies of the victims that were not found up to that time. Unfortunately, not all of the bodies could be recovered.

It had just been so long. It is assumed animals drug off some of the remains or weather washed them away. There was one curveball, however. The female who was at first thought to have taken her own life was then included in the murders, and was not mentioned in the confession. There would be several more interrogations over the years, but neither man would ever admit to knowing anything about her death. As things stand now, it really does look like she took her life, even if her family and friends refused to accept it. Once the men were caught, the story was essentially forgotten. There were

no trials. The men were given multiple life sentences and the story slipped back into the past. Other than the families of the victims, my memories and those of my friends in the search team are all that made the story real. And now that I'm old and retired and many of those guys from back then are actually long dead, it seemed that the kind and wise thing to do would to pass these stories on to you. People say the internet is forever, and I hope that's true. I'll be able to rest easier knowing those innocent victims' memories will live on way far longer than any of them could have ever imagined. They deserve at least as much as that. Don't you think? Back about 20 years ago, I was a young boy scout.

Like me, my father had been a scout and made it all the way to Eagle, and I intended to follow in his footsteps. My scoutmaster, a personal friend of my dad by the way, encouraged everyone in the troop to do as much volunteer work as possible, and this is what led me down the path of search and rescue. We had little need for a permanent team, disappearances weren't very common, and the county lacked the resources to maintain a group even if there were. My first experience with the practice was when a male senior citizen was reported missing by his daughter. It took the deputies almost a whole day to discover his car on an abandoned logging road. The size of the surrounding forest was far too much for them to

search on their own. Our scout leader was contacted for help and we answered. I enjoyed it immensely. As for me, it was really just similar to a treasure hunt, but one I took very seriously. I'm happy to say that the old gentleman was discovered safe and sound the following day. He'd created a campsite after he realized that he was lost and had been there ever since, and even in his confused state, his hunter instincts kicked in and kept him safe. My reason for posting today and sharing this with Let's Read is to share my version of the biggest search myself and my fellow scouts took place in. It was the summer of 2002 and I was dreading the imminent approach of another school year. I was about to be a senior. With it came all the responsibilities I feared. Biggest among them was my choice of college. The truth was, I was

already losing any interest in school or anything associated really with it. I felt hopelessly lost. Everything I'd once enjoyed, even scouting, just seemed stupid and childish. I wanted to leave the scouts for almost a year by this point, but I feared how my dad would react. He had pinned his hopes on me, and it was not an ideal position to be in. In the midst of all this inner turmoil, I got a call to report in at my scout leader's house. I reluctantly drove over and was told that we had been called out to assist on another search operation. It was actually a very welcome distraction. Unlike most other things in my life, the love of the hunt, the search, was alive and

well inside of me. Taking part in something so important gave me a sense of purpose nothing else had for a long while. We all loaded into the van and made our way to the national park. Very little was achieved that first day. Sundown arrived within a few hours of our arrival. Camp was set near to where the missing man had camped out the day prior. Just as the sun broke over the trees the following morning, we awoke and prepared for that day's search. The search yielded far more this day. Several people we spoke to had seen the man and one woman had even spoken to him briefly. She said that he showed no signs of distress and was in quote-unquote high spirits.

Despite all the information that we'd accumulated, the poor guy remained missing. Upon rising the third day, a sense of urgency pulsed through the group. The odds of finding our quarry alive were dwindling with each day. Without water, he may get by three days if he was lucky. I briefly entertained the possibility that he'd gone out there to end his life, but the woman's account gave me hope. Sometime after midday, our group came to a cave complex. It wasn't really much more than a short series of small tunnels you could crawl through. The six of us split into teams of two and worked our way in

and out of each cave. My friend and I were nearing the end of the second cave and noticed that there had been a collapse. At first we didn't see anything besides rock and dirt but my friend caught sight of something out of place and we got closer to investigate. Just as we began moving rocks aside, a leg moved. It wasn't long before the other scouts joined us in the cave. A few ran back to find help as we continued digging the man out. There were so many rocks on top of him, I was shocked that he'd survived at all, let alone almost three days more. In less than ten minutes, we had him unburied enough to see his face. He managed to open his eyes, although very weakly.

One of the adults arrived and offered him a canteen of water. He snatched it out of the volunteer's hand and gulped it ferociously. The crazed look in his eyes terrified me. I'd never encountered that level of madness in my life and I hope I never do again. The paramedics arrived and rushed him off, and I wouldn't see him again for several months. I was almost halfway finished with my senior year when I got a message from my ex-scoutmaster. and rushed him off, and I wouldn't see him again for several months. I was almost halfway finished with my senior year when I got a message from my ex-scoutmaster. I'd finally summed up the courage to tell my dad that I wanted to quit scouts,

and he took it far better than I expected. There was no yelling or anything, although he was clearly disappointed he didn't try to make me feel guilty. I called my ex-scoutmaster back and he said that he had a surprise for me but wouldn't say what it was. I drove over to his house and he introduced me to a familiar face. It was the man that we discovered in the cave. And it turned out that he was a newly arrived German immigrant. That weekend he had been camping and exploring the park near his new home. He wanted to thank me for saving him and I didn't know how to react. I could only say thanks and shake his hand, and we spoke for about an hour and he thanked me once more before leaving. He gave me a big hug and then left. And it's a day I'll never forget, and I'm so happy to have spoken to him in better circumstances,

and he and I stay in contact to this day over email. Each year around Christmas, I'll even get a Christmas card with his picture of his family on it, and since that day we met, he'd gone on to marry and have at least five children. Even if I never achieve another thing, I can proudly say that I saved a man's life. At the age of 18, I met the man who would change my life forever, and this story is about him. Caleb West was born in 1955 in a remote part of Montana. From a very early age, he spent his time in the nearby woods and mountains. He was a naturalist, skilled marksman and hunter, all useful skills to assist his family to get through the harsh Montana winters. At around 14, Caleb took up rock climbing, and just by chance, he ran into a group of older boys while on a camping trip. The group, all from outside the

county, were climbing a local peak. They were fascinated with Caleb's natural agility and strength and asked the young man to join them. As he did with most things, Caleb took to the sport like a duck to water. Quickly, he surpassed all of his teachers and became one of the best young climbers in the state. Rather than moving away from college, Caleb remained near home, taking jobs as a ranch hand and hunting guide. His work kept him busy, but he always found time to climb. Many of the older climbers that he'd grown up with now had families and had little time for such trivial activities. Perhaps from a lack of climbing partners, he found himself drawn to the

realm of search and rescue. Once or twice, he'd come across those men in the mountains as they searched for lost hunters and hikers, but doing it for a living never crossed his mind. It took an invitation from an old climbing friend to get him interested. Constantly short of experienced climbers, the group sometimes found themselves at a great disadvantage. Caleb would be the perfect man for the job, you see. His wood smarts and tracking skills, along with his natural adeptness at reaching hard-to-get places, set him above and beyond many in the group. He excelled at the work, quickly making a name for himself among the wider community. For the next twenty years or so, Caleb worked

his way up through the ranks, saving hundreds of lost and stranded people in the process. It was 1997 when our paths would first cross. Caleb was teaching beginner rock climbing classes at the gym I attended. We struck up a conversation and before I knew it, I was his new climbing partner. Those years taught me so much about climbing and working as a team. They were not without excitement either. We had been climbing together for over three years when I made a near fatal misstep that almost took myself and Caleb a thousand feet to our deaths. Being the seasoned professional that he was, Caleb acted quickly, arresting our descent before it was too late. After that, he had my undying loyalty and respect. I did go off to college,

but my heart was always in the mountains. As soon as I flunked out, I went straight to Caleb to ask for a job. He was reluctant at first, believing that I was better off in school. He spoke to my parents, and they gave their blessing. And from there on, I worked side by side with him for the next seven years. I learned every aspect that I could. Tracking, first aid, and even search planning were among the lessons. Caleb was a great teacher, but even as I near 50, I still have volumes to learn. And by 2008, the old man had began stepping back a bit, allowing the younger among us to get more experience. We were looking for a stranded climber when the worst happened. Caleb was up in the chopper leading the search when a freak crosswind blew it too close to the mountain. The chopper dropped like a rock from the sky and crashed into the valley below. Unfortunately, no one survived.

It remains the biggest tragedy of my life. Caleb had become more like a second father to me and losing him was a nightmare. And we had no time to mourn though. There was still a man lost out in the mountain. Not finding him would mean Caleb sacrificed his life for nothing. He would be found the following day and only then were we free to mourn the loss of our brother. I would stay with our team until 2015 when I decided to find a safer place of employment, and perhaps by chance, or maybe by destiny,

I would discover my wife was expecting our second child the same week as the accident. It was a very bittersweet event. Out of nowhere, my wife suggested that we name our new son after Caleb. I was hesitant at first, thinking that it may serve as a terrible reminder of that dark day, but all these years on I'm glad that I agreed. Every time I look upon my wonderful boy, not only do I see the ultimate result of our love, I'm reminded of the man who made me who I am. A great friend and teacher, but most important of all, a hero to the many he rescued in their darkest moments, and may his name live on forever. 2018 was probably the year everything began to really fall apart.

Earlier in the year, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Dad had already passed just five years before from a heart attack, and losing her would surely be too much to bear. I became determined to keep my mom alive as long as possible. Her treatment had been going well, and she had outlived her initial prognosis. Both of us were very optimistic of her future. Then the big pandemic hit and she was one of the first to be infected in town. She fought so hard but in the end it was too much for her immune system and she lost that battle. Because of the rules at the time I was unable to hold a funeral. Of all the indignities that we were forced to suffer during

that period of time, that remains the worst for me. Not too long after mom passed, her sister, my aunt Penny, also died. The only person left in my family, the only person I could talk to, was now gone too. From then on, I fell into a deep pit of despair, drifting through my days just waiting for my turn to die. Another two years passed and my time never really came, so life had more or less gone back to normal, but I was still inconsolable. After some thought, I decided that I needed some form of closure. I contacted a few people and

scheduled a simple graveside funeral for mom. Maybe if I had finally had the chance to say goodbye, I could begin to heal. Around 30 people showed up for the service. One of mom's old friends made a beautiful speech, and several others came up and told stories of happier times. It turned out to be just what I needed. It was during a conversation with one of those old friends when she suggested that I take some time for myself, something akin to a getaway or vacation, and it sounded like a good idea. For the better part of a week, I searched countless destinations. In the end, I chose a location an hour north of my home. For the sake of my own privacy, I'll leave out what that location was, and for the sake of the story, I will however say that

it was a national park in the northwestern United States. The drive was peaceful and the park beautiful. I found a nice quiet campsite away from the rest of the visitors and pitched my little tent there. I'd only used the tent once before many years ago so the setup took me some time. I was too tired to make a fire and fell asleep instead. I awoke just before sunrise the next morning ready to explore. I took to the trail with a light pack and my new camera. The morning went much faster than I'd expected. The lavish lunch that I had planned was reduced to a cup of tea and a sandwich. I reached my objective in about an hour and I remained there another hour, taking pictures

before beginning my return trip. Halfway through my trip, I came across a large open meadow. I stopped briefly to pick some wildflowers from my diary and then continued, and less than ten minutes later, I stumbled upon my worst nightmare. You can guess it. The dreaded grizzly. You see, it all happened so quickly that I was unable to form an escape plan. The bear must have been bedded down or in the shadows, which made seeing it earlier impossible.

I was virtually face to face with it before I realized the danger. I think I probably surprised it as much as it had me. In the blink of an eye, the massive beast raised up two legs and roared aggressively. Instinct must have kicked in. I turned and ran despite knowing it was the wrong thing to do. I headed for the nearest cover that I could find. As I fled through the forest, the sound of smashing and crashing came from behind me. The huffing and puffing of the agitated bear accompanied it.

I made it about 50 yards when I came up to a wide creek bed. In any other circumstances I would have tried to find another way across, but this was life and death. I had no time to think. As I reached the edge of the creek I drove forward with as much power as I could, and I landed just shy of the other edge. I pawed frantically at the earth as I managed to pull myself up, and the second my feet hit the ground I was running. At some point soon after I realized the noises behind me had stopped. I looked over my shoulder as I ran and saw that the bear was gone,

and only then did I dare to stop to catch my breath. To this day I can only assume that the bear didn't like his chances of making it across and just stopped at the creek. A wave of relief washed over me, but it wouldn't last long. I soon realized that I had a new problem. I had no clue where I was. I suppose if I walked back the way I came from, I may be able to find my way back, but that wasn't an option. What was I going to do?

Well, as it turned out, not much. I did try to find a way out, but I gave up after an hour. Fortunately, I did have some emergency supplies with me, and dark was coming up on me fast. I found a nice flat open spot and started to fire. I ate the last energy bar in my pack and crawled up alongside the fire in hopes that I could get some sleep. Falling asleep wasn't a problem, but I was awakened a few hours later when the fire burned down. I'd set a large log aside for such an event and pulled it onto the fire, and soon enough, the fire was roaring again and kept me warm until I woke up at around 8am the next morning. The fire was put out and I began walking the same way that I had been the following night and since I was a national park, I'd assumed that I'd

eventually come across some sign of civilization eventually. A few hours into my adventure, I heard someone yelling off in the distance. I'd been following it for about 10 minutes when I ran into another surprise. Luckily, this time it wasn't a bear. It was a member of the search team charged with finding me. I thanked him for helping me and gave him a big long hug. As it turned out, I had been walking in a circle all day. This is a common occurrence I'm told, but it didn't stop me from feeling stupid. I had, however, done one wise thing. By checking in with the rangers and giving them an idea of my plans, they began a search immediately. It may have been the only thing that really saved my life. I recommend everybody do the

same. Even if there's no one where you plan to visit, you can at least leave instructions with someone back at home in case you don't return when you're expected to. It really only takes a moment. I learned a lot from those few frantic days. I've become so fixated on all the lives lost around me that I've forgotten about the most important life. My own. And in hindsight, I guess the trip was just what I needed. I can't say almost being mauled by a grizzly was the ideal way to solve my problems, but we can't always choose the way in which we learn. I hope everyone is doing well now and by all means, get outside and experience this amazing world in which we live in. Life goes by fast, and for many, ends far too soon.

Enjoy it while you can. I can't recall a time before the hills came into my life. You see, not long after I began to walk, my parents had me alongside them as they hiked the forests and peaks of the Rockies. At least a week every year was spent camping out. Day-long walks to out-of-the-way spots were only briefly interrupted by short fishing trips along the path. I didn't fall in love with angling as my dad did, but hiking and climbing was something that I fell into head first. When my dad grew too old to accompany me to the mountains, I sought out others to join me. I've had all manner of climbing partners. Some became great friends, while others stayed in my life only briefly. And over the years, I climbed any rock wall, hill, or snowy peak that I could

get to. And more than once, I believed that I was just seconds from death. I obviously survived, but after one particularly bad day on Denali in which I would lose all my toes on one foot and a finger on one hand, I would put the big peaks behind me. This would by no means keep me from the mountains altogether. Just as recently as a month ago, I took a scenic scramble on a rocky hill near me. For the most part, my trips are uneventful these days, but there was one incident about a decade ago that shook my confidence a bit. I was around 32 and in great health. Earlier that day, I had taken my regular 5-mile bike ride and was preparing to take a little hike into the mountains. I arrived just after noon, leaving my 4Runner in the parking lot and headed up my favorite trail. It was a sunny and warm day if I remember correctly. No bad weather comes to mind at that moment. I was making great time and arrived at my rest

point in about two hours. A few other hikers were also there and joined me for lunch, after which I made my way for my car. I was about 20 minutes into my return trip when I ran into a new group of hikers. They appeared very panicked. They ran up to me upon seeing me and inquired if I'd come across a lone female on the trail. I told them I had not. Now at this time, they had told me that they had lost one of the members of their team as they headed for the top, and I naturally offered to help them in their search, and they accepted. The rest of the afternoon was spent searching every possible area that we could think of. Many areas were searched multiple times, and by now, the search and rescue team had joined in and taken charge of the operation.

About an hour prior to sundown, I was assigned to research a small area along the banks of the creek. My group consisted of myself and a small area along the banks of the creek. My group consisted of myself and a few members of the search and rescue team. It was thought that the climber could not have fallen into the water because of the trees lining the bank. The problem with this was that there was a large open section where the lady could have gone into the water and been washed downstream. I proposed my idea and asked one of our group to join me as I waded downstream until dark. We waded in and began following the current. As we walked, each one of us closely scanned our side of the bank for any signs of our target. Roughly fifty feet down the crete,

my partner called out to me. He had seen a patch of bright blue among a tangle of brush on his side of the water. I waded over to help him dig through the mass of limbs and grass. It wasn't long before we came face to face with our climber. She was floating, face up. My teammate checked her pulse, probably expecting not to find one, but to his delight, a faint one was detected. He stayed with the victim as I returned to the shore to call to the rest of the team. I feared that she would slip away in the little amount of time that it took for them to show up, but fortunately she did not. The medics followed me back to the victim where they strapped her to

a backboard and rushed her off. It was a rewarding end to an exhausting day, but the poor climber had much further to go before she was out of the woods. My purpose was fulfilled there and I returned home. I was hopeful but I was really exhausted and I slept through until the next afternoon. It would probably be several days until any news would be released. I did my best to carry on with my life until then. Five days after she was found, a member of her group called to let me know that the climber was stable and she wanted to see me in person to thank me. I went to the hospital later that day to visit. As she said, she thanked me for assisting in the search. I'll admit that I was out of my element.

I'm actually a very shy and humble man. I said thank you and moved the subject on to something other than myself. And in time she recalled exactly what had happened on the mountain that day. She was feeling short of breath and was resting alongside the creek. Suddenly a sharp pain stabbed her in the chest. It was so bad that she lost consciousness, and that was the last thing that she remembered until she woke up in the hospital the next morning. It was certainly a bit of a shock to hear of a 35-year-old woman having a heart attack, but I suppose none of us are as healthy as we think.

Her near-death experience changed my life greatly, just as my own had, and since then, I've made sure to keep up with my doctor and get scans every few years. Despite what we may believe, everything in our younger years, none of us are really bulletproof. I didn't survive below zero temperatures on top of a mountain and lose digits just to drop dead at the supermarket. So please, everybody take care of yourselves. Life is far too precious of a thing to take for granted. I don't know. Growing up, my neighborhood was located off by itself on the edge of town. Not many people from the outside even really knew about us. The development had been built on an old farmland and much of the remaining and undeveloped land, which there was a lot of, was forested.

Being kids with nothing better to do, we spent most of our days in those woods. There had been a makeshift clubhouse out there for as long as I could remember, but we spent one summer completely rebuilding and improving it. The new clubhouse became our home away from home, and many of us came from abusive families, and the clubhouse gave us a sort of refuge from the chaos. One of us spent a whole summer there. His parents' divorce had become so adversarial that his home environment was just unbearable to him, and to tell you the truth, I don't think they even noticed that he was gone. The rest of us came and went all hours of the day and night, and it served especially useful for the days that we

skipped school. The clubhouse was just a meeting point for us all, and the warmer times of the year a lot of time was spent fishing and swimming in the nearby creek, and this is where I first learned to swim. We had a rope swing tied high up in a tree, but the creek was rarely deep enough to use it. When we weren't playing in the creek, we explored further into the woods. On one of our little adventures, we discovered a homeless camp. It's at about a quarter mile from the clubhouse on the opposite side of the creek. We were too scared to get too close, and we'd set up on the hill above the camp and watch the bums drink and sometimes fight each other. This kept us entertained for hours on end. But as the years passed, we grew bolder and in some ways, more cruel. I believe this behavior is what led to one of our people actually suffering an unknown but certainly terrible fate.

For the first year we kept our distance, the homeless in the camp had no clue that we were there as far as I know. I'm not sure how they initially discovered that we were watching, but boy oh boy, when they did, it would stir up a hornet's nest. We were posted up on the bluff one night as usual and one of the homeless began hurling curses and insults our way. I had butterflies in my stomach. I think I was only 10 or 11 at the time and anytime an adult yelled at me, I got scared. A few of the guys hurled insults back, but nothing major. Now they knew that we were watching, the fun kind of went out of it. Had the drunks left us alone, we probably would have done the same. Unfortunately for everyone involved, that wouldn't happen, and instead, the whole situation just got kind of out of hand.

It must have been done when all of us were in school or occupied elsewhere. A few of us arrived at the clubhouse to see it had been vandalized. The roof had been pulled down and a note was spray painted on the wall that read, go home you little brats. Kind of funny, but any fear I may have had now disappeared, as I was actually pretty angry. They had crossed the line and we weren't about to let it go. The next day, four of us skipped school and got some payback. Usually during the daytime, the bums weren't around. Not only did we tear down all their shelters, we burned anything that was flammable, including tents and sleeping bags. We walked away confident that they would get the hint and call a truce, and for a while it seemed to have worked.

The revenge attack that we expected never came and we went back to entertaining ourselves in other ways. However, as time passed, a few of us became curious and returned to the bluff. A bad idea in retrospect. I'm not sure who rekindled the feud, but the insult soon began being exchanged once more. I'm also not sure who escalated it to stone throwing, but we gave just as good as we got. Night after night, rocks filled the air. Few of us were ever hit, and I can't say if any of them were, but it did nothing to curtail the animosity. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

On the day that we were away, some homeless returned to the clubhouse and completely leveled the place. It was so erased that we thought the landowner had done it. Not a shred of metal or piece of wood remained. It wasn't until one of the homeless gloated across no man's land about their handiwork, and that we knew that they were the culprits. When we invaded their camp to get revenge, we realized that much of their shelters were made from our sheet metal, the metal that had been our clubhouse. And this set us off. Rather than burn it down as we had planned, we took a new path. While a few of the guys carried the metal to a new location, the rest urinated on every absorbent surface in sight. One guy took things even further by taking a dump on a table.

The war had become a case of tit for tat, nothing more than petty childish pranks, but the day finally came when the adults had enough. The children were about to get a lesson on how terrible war can truly be. We were all about the same age. The oldest among us was 14 and served as a big brother to the rest. Mike was 12. He lived the street over from me and his home life was one of the more normal until his father died in a bike accident. His mom was forced to work around the clock to keep their house. This left him alone a lot of the time. He'd stay with one of us when possible, but when it wasn't, he'd spend the night at the clubhouse. We'd just rebuild it in a new

location much deeper in the woods and away from the homeless camp. The last night Mike slept out there, he'd asked some of us to join him, but none of us could. And this remains my biggest regret. Truthfully, I probably could have snuck out my window and spent at least a few hours with him, but I didn't feel like it that night. None of us knew that that would be the last time that we'd ever see him. It was a Sunday and several of us met up to do some final touches on the new club. Mike had not come up in the conversation and none of us had spoken to him that day. I assumed, like everyone else, that he'd be at the clubhouse when we got there.

When he wasn't, there wasn't any concern. He was most likely at home or out with his mom, we thought. We went about our work. After we finished, we were all headed home. I stopped at Mike's on my way only to discover that he wasn't there. His mom had just returned from work and assumed that he was with us. Although odd, I ignored this and returned home and went to bed. I would awake the next day to a chaotic mess of fear and panic. Mike's mom grabbed me by the shoulders and begged me to tell her where Mike had gone, and I was so groggy and confused. After I had some time to clear out the cobwebs, I asked her what was happening.

She said Mike had never come home the night before. She'd called everyone, but nobody had seen or spoken to him since the night prior. Maybe she thought that we were playing a joke on her or something. Adults aren't in the habit of telling kids all their thoughts, and I can only guess what she was thinking. Despite the situation, we were sent to school as usual. There was no lack of theories about what had happened. Most were like alien abduction and other equally stupid ideas. Our group were the only ones who knew about the war with the homeless and all the crazy stuff that had gone on during it. One by one, each of us were pulled out of class to be questioned. Nobody said anything. In our minds, if it came out,

everything we had built would be ruined and our domain spoiled. It would prove to be a waste of time anyways. One of the parents told the cops about all the time that we spent in the woods, and by the next morning it had all been discovered. The clubhouse, the homeless camp, everything. The cops called in a local search and rescue team to assist them. Some of the residents joined in, just the idea of all these adults crawling all over the woods was heartbreaking. No matter what came of this, our sanctuary would never be the same. When the news arrived that the homeless camp had been found, we were sure that it was all over for us. To our amazement, the homeless kept their mouths shut too.

I can only guess that they were thinking the same as us. They loved the woods as much as we did. Maybe we had more in common than we ever knew, I can't really say. And without any real suspects or motives, the authorities could do nothing but continue their search. By the time the operation was finally called off, I think the search and rescue team had combed through every inch of those woods three times over. Mike's body would never be found, nor would anyone ever be charged with his disappearance. I still like to believe that Mike ran away and found a loving family to take him in.

We both fantasized about it more than once. Maybe he's living in a foreign land under a different name, raising his own family. I know it's all just a childish delusion made up to cope with the loss of a cherished friend. Maybe so, but it's better than thinking of the more likely outcome. A foolish but kind child spending his final moments terrified before being slain by a bunch of psychotic homeless men, or possibly an unknown and faceless serial child killer. Even if he was the victim of a wild animal or fell into a narrow cave only to succumb to exposure or dehydration. None of these are a scenario I have any interest in thinking about. I may be smart enough to know nothing good has come from his disappearance,

but I'll stay a little longer in my dream world. It's a far happier place. After the whole thing blew over, we tried to build the clubhouse and make the woods ours again, but it just wasn't to be. Something just felt different. Our age probably played a big part of it. Most of us were in high school now. Our priorities were shifting towards sports and girls. A sense of imagination and youthful innocence had faded. And most of all, the biggest part of our family had left us without being able to say

goodbye. My last year before college, I would still venture down to those woods on occasion to be alone with my thoughts. That empty, strange feeling was still there, but now, a new force was present. Strangely familiar and comforting, yet melancholy and lonesome is all I can really describe it as. We would walk together, among the trees, sometimes in silence, sometimes in discussion, just as Mike and I used to. In those moments, it was as if nothing had changed, as if Mike was still there with me.

And looking back, I think he may have been. I met Holly at a party in 2010 when a mutual friend introduced us. I certainly was attracted to her, but I had a hard time believing a girl so beautiful could have anything in common with me. That was until she mentioned that she was into trail riding. Now she had my full attention. I'd been racing mountain bikes since my teens and I took it very seriously. So much so that my friends and me built our own cross-country course by hand one summer. I'd never met a girl this hot who was into anything that I was, let alone my favorite hobby. In retrospect, I assume this is why our friend got us together. We sat down in a quiet area of the house and talked until the sun came up.

Then we went out to breakfast, just the two of us, and continued getting to know each other. It was a surreal experience and I feared the minute that it ended that I'd wake up alone in my dinky apartment. Saying bye that morning may have been the hardest thing that I'd ever done. We'd made plans to go riding together the next weekend, but I had strong doubts that it would ever happen. The next Saturday, I was in Target buying some things when I got a text from Holly. Being my unconfident self, I thought my friends were just playing a joke on me. I'd mentioned how amazing she was to a few of them. Sometimes young males can be cruel with each other and I assumed this was one of those times.

She assured me that it was really her, but even as I drove out to the mountains I was kind of doubtful. When I pulled into the parking lot I caught sight of her amazing form and my stomach started to drop. This would be the ultimate test for us both. I would see if she was everything I created in my head and she would find out if I was really worth her time. From the moment we hit the trail, it was a constant competition. Neither of us were willing to give an inch and although I was able to maintain the lead, she gave me a real run for my money. By the end of that day, we had both passed with flying colors in my eyes. Now for brevity's sake, I'll just gloss over the next few years.

In a sentence, our relationship grew into an all-encompassing love and we began planning our wedding after our graduation. We'd met our second year at university, so we weren't in any hurry to take that final step. To us, if we were truly meant to be together for the long haul, waiting until we completed school wouldn't make any difference. For my part, I wasn't sure that we'd make it all the way, but that was my insecurity talking more than anything. When the wedding day arrived, a small shred of fear still lingered in my mind. I don't remember taking a breath until we were in the car and on the way to the airport, and from the airport we were off to enjoy a honeymoon in Colorado. Naturally, much of it would be spent riding the backcountry.

It would be an unforgettable trip for us both, literally. Our first few days were spent seeing the sights and visiting friends in the area. It wasn't until our fourth day there that we set foot on any trails. There were no plans for any crazy racing or the like. That could be for future trips. We just wanted to get a feel for the area and enjoy nature. Our camp was about three miles from the park. We informed the office of our plans that morning and made for the trails.

The sun had just rose and the day was forecasted to be a warm one. Ours would be a leisurely ride through the mountains in which we'd stop for lunch and return to the camp by dark. Holly had packed us a nice meal and a bunch of small snacks to keep our energy stores full. We had a wonderful morning just leisurely riding down the trail, but as we headed to the spot we planned to stop for lunch at, our competitive nature took over. Holly looked back and smiled before tearing off down the trail. I pursued her with all I had. She was about 20 yards ahead of me as we turned the corner and I caught up just in time to see her lose traction on some loose gravel and tumble down the path below. I raced to the spot where she'd landed and when I got there,

she was conscious but in a lot of pain. To my horror, I could see a small bit of her shin bone jutting from the skin. I don't think she realized it because she tried to put weight on it. I stopped her before she could do any more damage, and she quickly laid back down and complained of pain in her back. Now I had a reason to believe that she possibly had a spinal injury too. I knew I wasn't supposed to move her. Instead, I covered her with my fleece and told her to stay still. I pulled my phone from my pack and dialed 911, but the call wouldn't go through.

I looked at the phone and saw that it only had half of a bar. I was beginning to panic a bit inside, but kept it to myself. I was posed with a hard choice now. Did I get on my bike and ride off in search of a better signal? Or did I stay with Holly and hope someone came along? While I pondered this, the adrenaline must have begun to wearing off. Holly was in severe pain now. I couldn't sit around and watch her suffer and the decision was made for me.

I sat down next to Holly and told her about our situation. She was clearly scared, both of us were actually, but she knew it was something I had to do. She told me to go. As I left, I gave her a kiss and told her I loved her. Just in case, you know. I hopped on my bike and rode as fast as my legs could carry me. A mile or so into my ride, I......arove at a large opening in the trees. And now my phone showed two full bars.

I dialed 911, and this time it connected. I gave the operator as much information as I could. All the while, an overpowering feeling told me to get back to Holly as fast as possible. We spoke another minute, and the operator assured me that the search and rescue were on their possible. We spoke another minute and the operator assured me that the search and rescue were on their way. I thanked her and disconnected the call and with a new feeling of hope I hurried back up the mountain to Holly. She was really happy to hear the news and as we waited for rescue I did whatever I could to think of keeping her mind off the pain. I tried making jokes at first, but the pain was made even

worse when she laughed. I switched things up and talked about her future after this was over. It was only about half an hour when I heard the thudding sound of a helicopter approaching and stop above us. They hovered there for a few moments until a group of men walked up the trail to our location. From then on, everything went like clockwork. They had Holly on a backboard and en route to the hospital in a matter of minutes. We'd spent two nights at the hospital. The staff were very professional, as were all of Holly's doctors. They commended me for not moving her or letting her fall unconscious, as it turns out that she also had a minor concussion that neither of us knew about.

So I can't take credit for that one. Holly's leg would heal within a few months, and her back injury, which consisted of a few broken vertebrae, would take two surgeries to fix completely. She underwent extensive rehab after both and returned to riding soon after. The doctors considered her to be fully recovered and she assured me that she is, but I can tell the pain still comes back now and then. The accident did derail the rest of our plans at the time, but we returned to Colorado two years later to complete the honeymoon. In a move very out of ordinary for us, we didn't ride a single bike the whole time.

It was a bit strange at first, but we quickly took to it. I'll admit it is easier to enjoy the scenery when you're not blazing through it. As far as riding and racing, neither of us do it as much as we used to. Having kids has put that on the back burner for a bit, but we have agreed that it will be something that we introduce to them as soon as they're old enough. It can be a bit dangerous to life and limb now and then, but that's often what makes life worth living, isn't it? When I was 16 years old, my best friend and I made the dumb decision to get matching tattoos from an older man who was doing tattoos illegally out of his home. He was well known in the area within our age group for giving cheap tattoos to minors. He had recently gotten out of prison for giving minors tattoos and not practicing under state guidelines. And needless to say, I don't know what in God's name we were thinking, but hey, when you're a rebellious 16 year old, not really caring and

incredibly dumb, and you have the chance to get a tattoo for $20, I guess any and all common sense flies right out the window. So we set up a time with him to go over to get our tats. I don't remember the exact time that we went over, but I remember it was already dark, so it must have been in the late evening or something. It was just the three of us alone in his house. I remember feeling very eerie being there. Something about him and the energy of the place felt very off, but being the dumb teen that I was, I chose to ignore those feelings and go through with it anyways. We were there for about 30 minutes, we got our tattoos and then left.

Fast forward to a few months later, I see his picture and name on the news. At first I thought he got busted for his illegal tattooing, and little did I know that it was so much worse than that. He had been arrested for one of the most heinous crimes someone could commit. It turns out he bought an old police car, a cop costume, handcuffs, and would go into parts of Portland that prostitutes frequented, impersonating a cop to arrest them. He brought them back to his house and chained up the victims in his basement, his correction garage, where they wouldn't be heard. There, he would repeatedly assault them and torture them. I was absolutely sick to my stomach when I found out. I cannot imagine what these women went through and I still don't really want to know all the details.

This was all happening around the same time that we were at his house so the chances that one of the victims were there around the same time as we were could have been a possibility. I thank God that nothing happened to us but there's also a part of me that feels guilt. What if someone was screaming for help while we were there and we just couldn't hear them? Why didn't he kidnap us? We would have been the perfect targets. Every time I look at the tattoo, it's a horrible reminder of what could have been, so I'm planning on getting it covered up. Thankfully, all of his victims are alive,

and I hope and pray that they are able to recover from this horrible act. He will be in prison for life with no possibility of parole. Always trust your gut. For the weekend, I wanted to visit my boyfriend. He lives two hours away, and I always go by train. I'm not easily spooked, but I always keep an eye out. A girl gotta do what a girl guy'd do, am I right? One hour into the trip, it was around 8pm then, and I see two men getting in the same train compartment as me. I was sitting in a two seat, the seat next to me was empty and in front of me there was a seat for four people. So, two pairs of seats facing each other. The men came in being

very loud, even though it was a silent compartment, but nobody said anything because they had already seemed very suspicious. From the moment they stepped into the train, probably before they got in, they had their eyes fixated on me. They stepped in through the door and sat in the seat in front of mine, the four seat, and from then on they kept an eye on me while discussing things with each other in a language I didn't understand. Like every other girl I get stared at frequently, especially when I wear my hair down. It normally makes me feel a bit awkward, but I never feel unsafe when this happens, until yesterday. But they were staring at me in every possible way. Through the chairs, standing up, sitting down, and bending over to get a good look,

through the reflection of the mirror, and by getting up and walking past me. They were taking turns and walking over to the other compartment of the train. The other compartment was only separated from mine with a glass door. Every time one of them got up, they both started staring at me. Then one of them went away, and the other one had a clear vision of me, and they kept staring at me. He poked his head through the middle of the seats and offered me chocolate, which I politely refused. Then the other one came back, and five minutes later, the other man left, and they kept taking turns walking away. and every time one of

them got up, the one who remained seated kept an eye on the other, and on me. Each time they were sitting across from each other, they discussed things, but I couldn't translate it. They kept looking at me, and then started discussing again. When I had 20 minutes of my trip left, a lot of people got out at one stop And then it was just me, them, and one other male then The moment the doors were about to close, one of the creepy men started walking through the doors to check if there were people coming and going And maybe to check if there was security, I don't know I don't know why he did it, but when he came back, he scanned the train to see how many people were still on there, I think. And from that moment on, they both got in seats facing me.

They would not stop staring at this point. As you can imagine, I panicked and was stressed out. So I slowly turned around to look behind the glass doors to see if there were more people there that could maybe help me. And to my luck, there were more people there. So I slowly and very softly put on my jacket. We still had about more than ten minutes left, and I kid you not, not even two minutes later, one of the men starts getting undressed and changing. He took out his purse and jacket and kept looking at me and fixating on me

while still discussing with the other man. This is where I really started to panic. I already let my friends know what was going on and my boyfriend was already at the train stop where I was supposed to get out. Then I contemplated what the smartest thing to do was, because there is an emergency number on the train that you can call or text if you feel unsafe but I had a gut feeling that this would not help me. So I got my bags, got up and walked through the glass doors to the other compartment. I sat facing them so I could see what they were doing. They both got up and

grabbed their bags and started walking towards me. Now mind you, they were sitting closest to the exit so there was absolutely no reason for them to take this route too. I rapidly started to talk to someone on the seats next to mine and asked if he could help me because I was getting followed and watched by these two grown men. He said that he also thought that they were very suspicious and was getting scared for me. He asked me to sit next to him so he could keep me a little safer and distract the man or something. Then he distracted me a little and asked me questions about my life. When the two creeps saw that I got seated next to that man,

they were already coming my way and were making their way through the doors of the compartment. They were glass doors so we could see each other very clearly. I had not shown any fear but I was shaking so uncontrollably that they must have seen how scared I truly was. The moment they got through the door, they saw me getting seated next to the other man and the creeps exchanged looks, looked at me, and discussed something, and then looked at me again, turned around and went the other way again. They were walking to the exit of the train, where again is a glass door, so we could still see each other. The whole time they were standing around the exit, they were looking at me with a very creepy and disturbed look on their faces.

I can only describe it as, you got away, but you won't be so lucky next time. That's how it felt. The man that I was sitting next to also got that feeling and was trying to calm me down. He told me that he wasn't going to let me get off the train by myself and he would wait with me until my boyfriend arrived. But then our stop came and we walked to our side of the exit and then came a realization. In the exit of the train, there were standing two other men with the same kind of looks as the two creeps. They talked the same language and they acted just as weird. These men were probably the men who the two creeps visited every few minutes.

The men at the exit saw me, looked at me with a creepy look, but then the man who kept me safe made sure to them that he would walk with me and immediately they seemed to look away. They also covered their faces with their hoods. The doors opened and they nearly sprinted out, just as the other two creeps had hurriedly left. Then the man who escorted me out waited with me until we found my boyfriend and then he went on with his day. We both could not thank him enough for keeping me safe. I thought that I lived in a very safe country in Europe, but I think that as long as you're a young woman on your own, you'll never be 100% safe while traveling and being abroad. I hate thinking about what would

have happened if I was not helped by the man in the other compartment. I wish that I could have thanked him with gifts or a nice gesture, but I don't know his name and I'll probably never see him again. And to that man who saved me, I thank you with all my heart. So I was on the way home from Arby's with a mint chocolate shake. I zoned out for a second and almost didn't notice his car. I tried just letting him through but he insisted that I go on ahead. I didn't think much of it and just continued on walking. He drove on ahead and parked his car near some apartments. He had on a black polo shirt so I assumed that he was just dropping something off for a job or something. As I kept walking he approached me and offered me a $20 bill. I asked why, but couldn't understand what he said in response. I refused since I know what's best for me. However, that didn't deter him. He grabbed my waist and I stepped to the side.

He then started pulling me towards his car. I bit his hand so he wouldn't silence me and made sure to scream as loud as possible to try and attract any bystanders if I could. He managed to get me into his car and just before he could close it, I stuck my foot through the door to keep it open. I then got out and made myself go limp since adding dead weight without warning creates sudden resistance and makes it harder for them to grasp you. Due to this quick thinking, I was able to get away unharmed. I quickly booked it and got on the phone with my mom once I was at a safe distance. I made sure to stay on the phone until I got back. After that, I'd taken some time to calm down and waited for the cops to get there to take my statement. The officer ended up praising my quick thinking,

telling me that I'd luckily done everything right in the situation. Please guys, take self-defense seriously. I've only ever had a week-long course and just that alone had managed to save my life. I didn't remember too much from my self-defense course and only used the basic techniques that I'd remembered, which was basically making noise, dropping my weight, and checking behind me. Any other actions I'd taken were a result of logic and quick thinking. Chances are, if I'd gotten more self-defense training, it likely wouldn't have been as close of a call as it was. Also, never accept money from strangers. While there are good Samaritans out there, there's also people who don't have your best interests in mind. If you do think they have good intentions, make sure to double check by asking why they're offering you money.

If you don't get a good legitimate reason, then make sure to refuse. If you refuse and they still persist, then get away immediately. So about two years ago, I, a 16-year-old female, at the time I was 14, was home with my mom. It was just the two of us. Now my mom at the time was addicted to drugs and alcohol and was in an essentially drug-induced coma. Nothing could really wake her up. I had decided to take a bath while she slept. My bathroom door was locked, as was my mother's bedroom door, as she seemed to think that we didn't know about her addictions and kept it locked so we didn't quote-unquote find out,

and the house was silent. I had only been in the bath about half an hour before I heard my front door open. I assumed it was my eldest sister coming back from work and as no one else would just walk in. But I wanted to be sure, so I texted her. Immediately I got a worried text saying that no, she wasn't home, why? Was someone there? I froze. I could hear footsteps. Now our house was small, one story, and from the front door to the bathroom door was only a small living room. I heard a weird scraping noise coming from the hallway to the bathroom. I heard the scraping stop outside of the bathroom door and then someone grabbed the doorknob and kept turning it very slowly, side to side, for about a minute. The entire time I was silent, frozen still and shaking like a leaf.

I wanted to call my mom and ask if it was her, but I didn't want whoever it was to hear the sound and to get to my mom. After a while I didn't hear anything. I stayed in the bath for what I think was an hour until I heard the front door open and click shut softly. I still stayed in the bath for what I think was an hour until I heard the front door open and click shut softly. I still stayed in the bath long after the water had gone cold until I heard my sister come in and yell if I was here and if I was okay and why the door was unlocked. I got out of the bath and heard her gasp before I had come out, but when I did I swear my blood went cold. There was a line spanning the wall of the hallway. There, the paint had been cut like someone had trailed something sharp along the wall.

Currently, the theory is that the scraping noise I heard was someone trailing a knife along the wall. I don't know. In 2014, I finally decided that it would be my last year working on the high seas. It paid very well, but there's a reason for that. It's extremely hard being in the middle of the ocean for three months at a time on a non-luxurious 50-foot freezer boat. Living on the ocean is a constant reminder humans aren't meant to be there. From the stench of rotting fish bait, mixed with diesel, to the constant motion of swells under your feet, combined with the vastness of nothing, I always compared it to being an astronaut. It tends to drive you up the wall eventually, no matter how fortified you are. For context, just being able to sit on a non-moving furniture back at home

was an ethereal experience. The last day of the season tends to be the longest, as we have to pick up every long line that was in rotation and detail the deck of the mess left behind. This would take us very late into the night. On this particular night, we ended our day at around 1.30am. We were 17 hours away from land, On this particular night, we ended our day at around 1.30am. We were 17 hours away from land, so our captain decided to take a nap and allow us two hours of rest before we took our wheel shifts, yet not standard practice as he was an alcoholic.

We were so far offshore, our captain put us on a slow autopilot, which essentially would just keep us from not drifting further from land as everyone took power naps. My little ritual every night was to make some tea and smoke cigarettes by myself on the deck. It was the only time I got to myself in such small quarters. This night however was both the last night of the season and of my career on the ocean. Although I was relieved, I felt a weird bitter sweetness knowing that I'll never be this far out in the Pacific Ocean again. I climbed to the top of the cabin where I had secretly stashed a joint in the outdoor freezer. It was sort of my little secret treat at the end of the seasons. I sparked it up and stared out into the moonlit ocean. I went into deep thought for quite some time. As I climbed back down, my jacket got snagged on a fishing hook,

which was from a fishing rod stored behind the ladder. And this is when my 19-year-old brain concluded, I should do something out here that I will never be able to get to do again. And that was, well, letting all of the fishing line out on a 200-pound test rod into the near-infinite depth of the ocean just to see what would happen, I guess. I wasn't all that concerned at the time, as I've seen essentially 99% of the fish that lived out here, but I've yet to see certain deep-sea oddities such as anglerfish and such.

My fascination took a hold of me. I proceeded to clamp on a bigger, heavier halibut lure onto the fishing line's carabiner, which wasn't designed for rods, but I felt it was heavy enough to sink further down. I began to let all the line out at the A-beam port of the vessel. Standing there for what seemed like an eternity, I began to give up on actually letting it all out. At this point, it was a little past 2am. My day's work was starting to become more apparent to me. I started reeling it in quite quickly as I lost interest in this whole idea. I just wanted to sleep at this point. When suddenly,

my rod got hooked on an immense dead weight. Extremely dead weight. It wasn't like a fish. I knew what those felt like. I instantly realized that I got snagged onto a kelp patch on my way up. I just wanted to get this done and over with. As I got the kelp patch closer to the boat, I peered over the railing and noticed that the water was absurdly black even for dimly lit night conditions. Almost vantablack. I tugged on my rod trying to assess where the kelp was when I saw a T-saucer sized silver light flashing in the water. Honestly went lightheaded not knowing what I was looking at. I started hearing something reminiscent of hot tube jets spewing out of water,

except much louder. The louder it got, the blacker the water became. At this point I was just confused until I see an arm roll up to the side of the boat. As the water cleared from the inky blackness, I saw an eight foot long cigar shaped creature. It was a squid. Out of everything I've caught in these waters, this was by far the most unexpected, as squid don't tend to make their way up this far north. I remembered hearing about an instance a few years back when they got stuck in an ocean current which pulled them further up than usual. My mind instantly went to, how can I get this thing on the deck? The bragging rights that I

would have amongst the crew on our entire trip back would be a poetic end of my career. I began to look for a gaff hook, one arm on the rod, one arm pushing totes around on the deck frantically looking. I kept a lot of tension on the rod just to ensure that it was still there, but I started to notice my rod was bending very aggressively, nearly pulling the tip of the underside of the boat. The power of this thing felt almost like a hydraulic winch. No gaff hooks in sight, they must have been placed in a storage compartment as we were going to be docked in the next 24 hours. It was standard practice so they wouldn't get stolen in the harbor. I rushed back to the railing, peering over the side. The squid has seemingly vanished out of sight, but the immense tension was still there and I haven't let any line out. Until I notice the unfortunate situation.

The squid has latched itself on the bottom of the boat like a tree trunk. I put both of my feet on the railing, nearly pulling my back to the deck. I felt a huge release, almost like a giant velcro strap being pulled apart. I nearly fell on my butt. I lunged towards the railing again, trying to shorten the line even more to inch this thing from out underneath, but my skinny teenager arms buckled almost instantaneously as I could see this thing rolling its whole body and arms back to the bottom of the boat. My anchored foot slipped on a coil of loose rope on the ground, nearly throwing me off the deck. My gut hit the railing.

Faced to the water, its huge head with its large silver saucer eyes peered out for a moment. They were darting around in a controlled frenzy, almost like it was analyzing me. I neutralized myself and put my feet on better grounding. I began to accept the risk here might be higher than the reward. Accepting my strength and its immense power, I began to contemplate cutting the line. I noticed the three-pronged hook was attached to the base of its tentacle. In an optimistic attempt, I pulled the rod tightly. The tip starts to bounce and flick. The squid began to contort and twist its whole body, pulling its tentacles close to itself, wrapping one tentacle around its hooked arm.

Knowing it had compromised its grip on the bottom of the boat, I pulled once again, until suddenly, the rod snapped straight. There is a cleanly cut, amputated squid arm on my hook. This thing performs surgery on itself. The whole length of the squid slowly pulls forward from out under the boat, and I swear, stares at me for a moment, and with one graceful contraction of its arm in a jet stream of ink, it disappears into the depths. I stood there for a moment waiting for my heart rate to hit baseline. I placed the rod on the deck with the squid tentacle still attached and just stared at it. The tentacle slowly coiled itself around the fishing pole.

I picked up my teacup off the ground, and I walked into the galley. I throw the remainder of yesterday's cold coffee into my cup, head my way to the captain's stateroom, and knocked on the door. No reply, I opened it a crack, and said I'm ready for my wheel shift. The captain, in a drunken mutter, asked,

Have you rested? And I replied it's time to head back I've had a few creepy things happen to me in my life, but this one I still think about how things could have went very wrong very fast. I'm a 20 year old female. This takes place back when I used to live in southern Indiana, like seriously in the sticks. It was a weekend night and my best friend and I were coming home after our graveyard shift at a local waffle joint. She decided to get her dog from her house so we could stay at my place for the night. This is important for later. So we start heading out into the country where I live,

and to get to my house, there's a long, narrow dirt road that you have to go down. About a mile or so in, we see a truck's headlights. We get closer, and it's a nice truck, probably like a 2018 at least. I can't say that I know much about cars, leave me alone, but he's parked to where he's sideways, blocking the whole path. Now confused, I get out and ask if he's okay. He looked hopeful when he saw me at first. I'm just waiting for a friend to come get me. My truck's stuck. He smiled at me and I noticed his pupils were nearly completely dilated. He looks back to my car and sees that I have someone with me, and he looks at the dog sticking his hat out of the window. His smile fades and he says,

Pitbull's mean and nasty. He quickly turns around and gets back in his truck. I go back to my friend and I'm like, put this thing into reverse, and use whatever hood ray skills that you have to get us out of here. So we take my poor 95 Caddy that really shouldn't be driving on a dirt road anyway and back all the way down that road and get back to the main road. Relieved, we take a different road home.

Then, lo and behold, the same guy is parked on that road standing off to the side smiling, just looking into our headlights. We were completely about to soil ourselves and we gunned it the rest of the way home. I don't know how he got there before us or what his intentions were, but I'm thankful that I ahead and get going. Working as a waitress, people often treat you badly. For every 25% tipper, there's 10 old guys who leer and tip 10%. I usually made it through my shifts okay, but one customer interaction truly creeped me out. It was a slow night, and this older couple got seated in my section. The wife seemed spacey but nothing too weird. When I came back to their table to get drink

orders she was slowly rearranging the sad little fake flowers that we had for decoration. I joked about it, some line about her messing with my arrangement. She looked up at me, wide eyed. I'm a florist's daughter. She was still moving them around and looking at me after I left with her drink orders. I came back with her drinks, and she's done playing florist, and I ask what they want to order, and while the husband is speaking, she interrupts him repeatedly to order a soup. Same tone each time, no indication that she even hears him speaking. I ask her if she once had served first as an appetizer. She stares at me, repeats the same sentence. The husband cuts in and confirms that they want it as an appetizer. I leave to put in their orders.

Later I stop by and ask how the food is. The wife grabs my sleeve right at the elbow and pulls me towards their table. She compliments the food but. The wife grabs my sleeve right at the elbow and pulls me towards their table. She compliments the food but at this point I'm feeling really uncomfortable. Her grip is pretty strong too so I have to repeatedly tug my sleeve to get away. Finally they're done with their meals and I ask how everything was while clearing their plates. The wife is very pleased and is still staring at me, wide-eyed and blank. Then she says, I never got your name. I usually don't tell customers my name unless they ask, so I tell her. She stares at me, unblinking, and then asks, do you know what it means?

My name is very common, so it's a weird question. I say it's biblical or something. She still stares, and then she says, It means, Beloved by God. That was my daughter's name. She's grabbing my sleeve again. I know she was beloved by God because he took her back so soon. She's still staring at me in her weird wide-eyed way, then she smiles. The husband is quiet, unbothered, and I kind of stutter and just get out of there. Maybe she was still grieving or on something, like a heavy-duty mood stabilizer or something. She had at least one glass of wine,

but I was really convinced that I was going to drop dead after that conversation. It was just so ominous. I didn't feel physically threatened, sure, but it was the creepiest conversation that I've had with a stranger. This happened to me when I was 10. I'm female, dark brown hair, and tan, creamy skin, average height, just so you get the full picture. Now considering my age and build, I would not have fought back particularly well had something happened at the time. At the time, I lived with my mom and younger brother, who must have been about 7 or 8. We all lived in a pretty secure area of town, and what's more, our apartment had a security guard. To get in the lobby, he had to buzz you in unless you had your own keycard. The elevator was activated by keycard too, so either you had your own or the security guard would have to key you in.

Also, a small screen inside our apartment with a button to call security if you needed. This made us feel safe to some extent, but my mom is a cautious person and is always very aware. We were moving and we sold a lot of stuff, including our TV, a normal size flat screen thing. We couldn't take everything with us, so this had to go. Eventually, a man in mid-thirties or forties got in touch with expressing interest in our TV. He said that he'd drop by our apartment the same day and he did, but a little later than expected as it was around 7pm. He does all the usual checks to see if it works properly and eventually starts asking my mom about where my

dad is. He lived abroad at the time and then asked me questions like where's my school and how old am I. Being a naturally friendly person, I answer and ended up telling him all about our field trip that I took with my class to a beach. He then asked if he can connect his phone to our TV to project images of the beach. He'd apparently been there before. My mom reluctantly agrees, and he does so. In those pictures, there's a pretty young woman. He says he's a photographer and would I like to model for him sometime. And this is the point my mom pulls me closer to her,

frowning and politely declines. I don't suspect anything and I am in fact excited and keep asking my mother to please let me model. She tells me to be quiet and doesn't sound happy at all. He continues to talk about his photography and said that I would make a good model. All the while, I kept getting more eager and nagging my mom to let me do it. I had no idea of his intentions and was completely okay with the idea. I also noticed the woman on the photo was wearing a skimpy bikini thing and since I really wanted to be grown up, you all remember what that felt like, I asked if I could wear one too. He said yes. My mom, I could tell, was completely freaked by this point.

I suspected nothing of course and with childlike innocence I asked him if I would get money and again he said yes and kept encouraging me to pose for him. Looking back now I feel terrible for my mom who knew exactly what was going on, but couldn't stop me. On top of all that, he told me repeatedly how good a model I was while I giggled through pose after pose, tossing my hair, arms up above my head, or hand on my hip. Really, really creepy looking back on it. He's been there for over an hour now. He says he's calling his friend to ask if he can buy the TV. Why would he do that? Who knows? He speaks with him for a bit and then says that he needs to call his wife this time, and again we let him. When he hangs up, my mom asks

if he wants the TV again. He tries to start a random conversation to distract her, but it's really late and we're getting tired. My mom calmly explains that it's late now and her kids, my brother and I, are tired and need to shower and go to sleep. At which point the guy says, oh that's fine, they can do that, I don't mind. Then encourages us to go wash. Eve and I was creeped out by this point. My mom again told him to come back another day. He got angry, insisting that he stay because he wanted to check this or that feature on the TV.

My mom stood her ground but I could tell that she was scared, alone with this creep and two young children to boot. After a long argument she turned to me telling me to go to my room with my brother. Needless to say I didn't argue. We went into my room and shut the door behind us. I heard the front door open and my mom telling him to leave or she'd call security. He again tried to stay, but she wasn't having any of it and said something along the lines of, yeah now, get out of my apartment now or I am calling the cops. He finally left and my mom put us to bed. She probably didn't sleep at all that night and we thought that would be the end of it. The next day he came back under the

same pretext as before but by now it was clear that he had absolutely no interest in the TV, just in us. Security, knowing what had happened prior to that day, immediately called my mom to know if it was okay to let him through or not. I asked if it was the photographer guy again. My mom nodding before motioning for me to be quiet then told security that they weren't to let him in. Thanked them for calling her first and that was the end of it. Apparently he got aggressive with security when they tried to show him out. I don't know if he tried anything after that, but I'll ask my mom and post an update if I learn anything. There is something innately wrong about a man who comes into a young mother's apartment, tries to recruit her kid for bikini pics or worse, and refuses to leave. It's sinister and creepy,

and I don't like to think what could have happened. A few months ago, my girlfriend and I were on the drive back home from a late night concert at about 1am. We were basically in the middle of nowhere and I decided to pull off at a random rest stop to use the bathroom. I figured at this time the only people at this place would be just truckers and other people in the same situation as me. I got out of my car and walked up to the building and as soon as I stepped inside, there were a few weird things that I noticed. So this place was laid out with two men's rooms and two women's rooms and two vending machines, one in both corners on either sides of the restroom doors. When I walked in, there were two people, both of them standing directly in front of each vending machine,

both just staring at the vending machines, not reaching to get money or actually intending on buying something. So I walked past these people and went into the first men's room. I walked inside and I was the only person in this room, using the urinals, which were laid out in a U shape. A few seconds later, someone else walks in, an older guy, maybe like 50 to 60, working class looking guy, and he walked over and started using the urinal right behind me, a few feet away. Nothing about this was very alarming at first, but being the careful person that I am, I already have my pocket knife open in my hand in my front hoodie pocket.

Once I finish up, I go to wash my hands and walking out the door to the first restroom. As I walk out, I realize that I also had to go number two. So to avoid being awkward, I walked into the second men's room, taking note that these weird vending machine people were in the exact same spot. I go into the first stall and try to go about my business, when I hear someone else walk into the restroom and go into the stall right beside me. Keep in mind there were about six other open stalls away from me. I thought this was really weird, so I looked down and immediately recognized the work boots as the guy from the first bathroom.

This guy just walked in and I wasn't even in there for two minutes. I immediately got up and left that bathroom. I started speed walking out of the building and I noticed from outside, looking back inside, that he also had quickly got up and was heading towards the outside doors. I just hopped in my car, waking up my girlfriend and I told her that I would explain in a minute. I put my car into reverse and just whipped out of the spot. As I was shifting into drive, I looked up and saw this guy a few feet away, standing next to this old beat down truck, literally staring me down as I started to drive away. I stared directly back at him and saw him make this really creepy mime-like surprised look at me.

I was really tired and confused but still don't know what this guy was planning at a rest stop in the middle of nowhere at 1am or if the vending machine people had anything to do with it at all, but this is one of the only times I've ever experienced something like this and have felt an actual danger. If anyone has any similar experiences or ideas of what this may have been, I'm all ears. I want to start this by saying that I know people can be friendly, and I don't automatically assume that they're creeps. I picked my girl up from school with my two nearly three-year-old boy. I decided to take a different route home through the park so they could go to the playground. As we were walking, there was a guy, around 55-ish, walking towards us with a tiny Pomeranian dog. My kids were in awe of this little teddy bear. The man smiled but didn't interact and we passed. A minute later, as we

were walking, I turned and noticed that he had gone back on himself and was now following us. This obviously got my attention and I felt a bit strange. He picked up pace and walked alongside us and asked if the children wanted to pet his dog. I was polite and encouraged the kids to stroke the dog. Then we moved on and I kept saying, okay kids, let's go to the swings. Two minutes later, he came toward us at a different route, again asking my children to pet his dog. My guard was up here and I got us away as soon as possible. Ten minutes later, we're in the enclosed playground. Now bear in mind, there are signs everywhere around this area to state that it's a no dog zone. This guy just appears again,

walking his cute dog five feet away from us, trying to get the kid's attention. It worked and they were calling for the dog and he tried to linger. I had to politely ask him to move on and he looked to be so angry with me. He went and that was it. My senses were just searing at me and I had to voice this somewhere. Was he weird or just some type of nice guy? I joined a Facebook group where people would post ads for butchering equipment. I had this old meat slicer that was no longer in use. As I was getting ready for work one morning, I got a message. It was around 6.20, but that didn't seem to bother this very passionate potential buyer. He asked a few questions about the meat slicer and seemed a

bit frantic, like his life depended on that machine. He requested a video call a few times to make sure that the machine was working properly, which I rejected as I was getting ready for work. Then he found another ad that I had posted, an old typewriter. Apparently he was interested in that too. Asked me about the price, if it was functional, etc. Just some pretty standard questions. We had texted for around 20 minutes when he asked if he could call me to really seal the deal I gave him my number to which he said I can't call you. We're not in the same network. Can I call you on facebook messenger instead?

So he did I picked up and asked if he could hear me. There was no response I looked at the screen and well I looked at the screen and, well, let's just say that I find it impressive that someone managed to participate in a semi-normal 20-minute conversation about buying butchering equipment and a type who had matriculated in my same class. He moved out to the suburbs soon after graduation for a new big boy job. I stayed in the city and lived in an apartment with a roommate, but being young and in love, I would often schlep 30 or so minutes in irritating traffic to hang and inevitably spend the night. Looking back, he rarely came to visit me, which was the sort of vibe that led me to eventually break

things off. Anyway, boyfriend lived in a duplex in one of those labyrinth cookie cutter subdivisions and shared it with two other people. These were virtual strangers that he had found through Craigslist. There was one roommate who was so chill that I don't remember him or her at all. This was also 10 plus years ago. And then there was the roommate that made me uneasy and whose creepy face I can unfortunately conjure up clear as a bell even now. And we'll call him Rob. Rob looked like an average, slightly leathery, nebulously 40-something surfer. I remember that he would always be in a t-shirt with some skater and extreme sports logo

and flip-flops. He had a bit of a belly and talked in a slow, aloof way that seemed to have a smattering of condescension, no matter what the subject was. Definitely a one-upper personality. The thing I can picture most about Rob was his shaggy dark brown hair and eyebrows so big that they hooded his eyes and gave him a raccoon-like quality. Underneath the eyebrows were distant empty eyes, droopy like a hound dog. When he would make eye contact, which was almost never, there was something there, or maybe something missing rather, and I just didn't like the way that it felt. Now, something to know about me. I was pretty easy to get along with in

those days. I still am affable, but I was akin to a polite Labrador back then. I was enthusiastic and full of joy. I'm not sure if that bubbliness got under Rob's skin or what, or if he was just a sadist. I was always nice to him and as considerate as I could be in their house, but regardless, there were two occurrences that left me chilled and thinking, what did I do to this person? The answer being nothing. Someone had the idea one night to go bowling. We piled into Rob's VW van and took off for the bowling alley. The route there was on windy country roads and it was a dark stretch of highway. My boyfriend and I are sitting in the middle row, so far back but not by a huge stretch. All of a sudden, I felt the van getting faster and faster. If I had to

guess, I would say that it was going 65 to 70 miles an hour. I hate reckless speeding and I'm a bit of a baby, but I tried to keep it cool. However, when he jerked the car around a sharp curve, I gasped and heard him laughing, seemingly at me. Hey, would you just slow down? You're kind of freaking me out, I said, loudly over the thumping stereo. My tone was still friendly, but serious and obviously nervous. He turned up the volume on the radio and accelerated the van. My tone was still friendly but serious and obviously nervous. He turned up the volume on the radio and accelerated the van. My heart was slamming and I was really scared. I got the impression that he was going faster because I was scared. I yelled at my boyfriend to make him slow down because he was the one who lived with this maniac. My boyfriend yelled a few times,

half-heartedly, and I could tell that he was embarrassed by the fear. He drove a sports car at mock speeds and loved racing. Finally, after I cried out please a few more times, my head in my lap, he slowed down, but not without making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror once I brought my head up. All I could see were his eyes, and I couldn't tell if he was glaring or smiling. Either way, it was very chilling. The other incident was a few weeks or months later. Boyfriend and I were coming back from something or other and went to his place after.

We entered through the sliding glass door that leads into the living room and soon discovered Rob was throwing a party. There were about 20 people milling about the connected living room and kitchen, staring at us in their unfriendly hipster way as we made our way to the boyfriend's bedroom. Suddenly, one of Rob's party guests, who by the way was built like a refrigerator, decides to roid out and throw a heavy wooden chair. He threw it in the style someone might launch a shot put with a little whirl and a yar type yell as he whirled across the room. I really think the guy was just being a drunken idiot and didn't intend for it to happen, but the chair sailed across the room and right into my left upper thigh, hard. I kind of yelped with pain and surprised and crumpled to the carpet, my hands over my thigh. If not for the blaring music,

it would have been silent as no one said anything. Even the guy who threw the chair just stood there with an unfixed gaze like he was trying to see what or who we hit. And then I looked at my boyfriend's roommate. He was smiling. And this time I could see his mouth, and he was smiling. It wasn't a maniacal Cheshire cat smile, but a smug, satisfied smirk mixed with utter contempt. I remember that his nostrils even flared as if this was an unexpected rush of dopamine pleasure through his body. He enjoyed both scaring me and seeing me hurt. Finally, after much too long, my milquetoast of a boyfriend whimpered, are you okay? To which I said, no, help me up. Admittedly a little testy. My eyes were watering with humiliation at the situation, the bone deep radiating pain,

everyone just staring at me, and this man I barely knew feasting his eyes on my distress. I got out of work. I work in a big facility, so it's not strange that I don't know him. He started by complimenting me but in a way that made me feel really uncomfortable. He was telling me things like how good I smell and I'm so beautiful that he watches me all the time. He said he wishes that he could see me more often and wants to get to know me to which I replied that I have a boyfriend and I'm not interested. He laughed at me and said that my boyfriend doesn't have to know and that he wants to take me for dinner. He then asked for my number and he followed me right to my car by this point. There was no one else around and I was starting to feel

scared as I've got some trauma centered around men and telling them no. I just wanted him to go away so I unfortunately gave him the number. I didn't give a fake because he'd handed me the phone on the screen that you would type a number you're about to call so I was scared that he might test that. I had a panic attack in my car before I went home and hoped that that would be the end of it and I blocked the number. All weekend he didn't text but I did get called by that same number three times. I don't know if it was his as he didn't give it to me. When I walked into work this morning he appeared out of nowhere and started talking to me like we have this secret relationship or something. I don't know how he found out what time I started because I'd never seen him when I come in before.

I don't think I can report it to HR because I'm stupid and I haven't been able to actually tell him he's making me uncomfortable. I don't know if this will persist, but I'm scared to leave work right now. Any advice would be incredibly appreciated. I'm sorry. This happened about 10 years ago. I was attending a really terrible university. I was working four nights a week and I could afford little more than dinner each day. Rent and gas money really killed me financially. I really needed a job to survive.

This all happened before I was working. It was the summer of my second year. It was one of the hottest days of the year. On days like that I always went to study on campus to enjoy the free air conditioning. In the library they have a bulletin board where anyone can post any personal adverts and all that kind of stuff. I often checked the board because sometimes you could pick up some easy work. For example, you could do high school students who were looking for a tutor and that kind of thing. Other times there would be interesting advertisements you could pick up some easy work. For example, you could do high school students who were looking for a tutor and that kind of thing. Other times there would be interesting advertisements too.

Study a foreign language with me. I like the sense of community. You'd see stuff like that. When I approached the board that day, I saw the following advertisement. Cleaner wanted to help clean a room. 5,000 yen per half day. Please contact Tanaka. This was some good timing because I had just taken a test and was about to have a week off. 5,000 yen was a lot to me. It's about $45. That would get me back to my hometown for a couple of days, I thought. As soon as I got back to my dorm, I immediately called the number provided. Hey, I'd like to apply for that cleaning job you posted. The voice on the other end of the line responded and it sounded slightly bewildered. Oh, right. What days can you work?

I told him that I work the full amount advertised. Oh, uh, can you start at 9am next Tuesday? I agreed and he gave me the address. It sounded like a residential address and I guessed by his voice that he was a man in his 30s and he sounded a little sick over the phone. My first day of work arrived. The morning was hot, but the sky was free of clouds. When I arrived at Mr. Tanaka's house, I felt the breeze of his air conditioning and I was worried that I was going to be working without one. I arrived ten minutes early at 8.50 and rang the doorbell and a man came and answered it. Right on time, come in, he said. He was a bit awkward,

not one for chatting and he wouldn't look me in the eyes when we spoke. I took my shoes off and followed him into the house. After we introduced ourselves to one another, he explained what he needed. It was pretty easy stuff. Help with moving heavy things, trips to the garbage dump, and some other light cleaning work. I was shocked by the things he was throwing away. They may have been trash to him, but to a student like me, they were treasures. He must have seen me admiring these things because he said, They may have been trash to him, but to a student like me, they were treasures. He must have seen me admiring these things because he said,

If you want to keep anything, it's yours. So I sorted some things into a sort of keep pile and can't remember exactly what they were. I think they were a couple of games, some books, maybe a dirty magazine too. We were cleaning the room at a decent pace. I was kind of enjoying it to be honest. Before long, his room started to look really good. Maybe we'll call it a day here. I felt him suddenly look my way. It looked like he was pretending to think about it a bit longer and then he said, yeah, that's enough for today. Because I had worked a lot longer than half a day, he doubled my pay. I couldn't believe my luck.

And then he said, Are you free tomorrow? For half a day? I was over the moon to get another chance to make some easy money, so I agreed. I got on my bike with all my cool new stuff and told him that I was looking forward to working with him tomorrow morning. When I got to his place, I found the door open. I craned my head around the door and called out. He asked me to come in. He was grinning when I walked in. I have your money here. I'll leave it in this envelope over here. He grabbed me by the hand and led me to another room. This was weird, his whole attitude seemed different. In this room,

there was a walk-in closet. It was a heavy looking suitcase, sort of like for travel. This thing's so heavy. I need your help to help me move it. This is how it's going to work. I'll push from behind and on my signal, I want you to pull as hard as you can. Is that okay? He hopped over the suitcase and went into the walk-in closet. I couldn't see him beyond all the jackets, shirts, and all that kind of stuff hanging up in there. After a while, Mr. Tanaka shouted, Pull!

And as per his instructions, I pulled the suitcase as hard as I could. It weighed so much, but what in God's name did he have in there, I wondered. It must have weighed almost 60 kilos. It was moving little by little, dragging slowly across the wooden floor. There was a clattering sound and suddenly the suitcase felt incredibly light. Mr. Tanaka? I called out over and over, but there was no response. What was this? Some sort of game he was playing? I didn't understand. There was still that rattling sound, but it had gradually quieted. Ten seconds or so had passed, and I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed the shirts and jackets aside, and I'll never forget what I saw. I saw Mr. Tanaka in the closet, hanging from his neck.

He must have been either sitting or crouching on the suitcase I had pulled away. He was suspended on the clothes rail in there. I ran over to help. I tried my best to pull the rope from around his neck but it wouldn't budge. My mind raced with panicking, disjointed thoughts. Then one clear one came to me. I need something sharp to cut the rope. Mr. Tanaka wasn't moving. This was really bad. The rope was way too thick for scissors to be of any help. I had no choice. I had to try and get a neighbor to help.

The police and ambulance services arrived. I was interviewed by the police at the scene. My parents traveled up and when they arrived I remember I just broke down, bawled my eyes out. Mr. Tanaka was taken away in an ambulance. He lived through the night but passed away in the morning of the next day and I couldn't save him in time. The least I could do for him was to finish the cleaning. I thought that would help me too to do that, but it was so much in the process. I made sure his apartment looked good though. I had some strange compulsion to finish his final request. I went to take my payment and inside the envelope was a note as well as the money that he had promised me. The note revealed that he had been laid off. His company

had been looking to make cutbacks. Shortly after he found out, his wife had been cheating on him with another man. His debt and loans seemed insurmountable to him, which is why he decided to just end things. At the end of his note, he apologized to me for all the trouble he caused me. He explained how he needed assistance to go through with it and the cleaning job was just a ruse to get me to help. I showed this note to the police and it put me in the clear. Police even let me keep the money. About a week went by and Mr. Tanaka's sister got in touch. He had long been estranged from her and she revealed a certain truth that hasn't set well with me and I wish that she didn't tell me. Mr. Tanaka was a believer in a certain dangerous cult-like religion. In that religion, the act of taking one's life is considered a terrible sin and

is prohibited. If you did that, then you would be condemned to hell for all eternity. So, he couldn't take his own life and that's why he needed me. I was given 100,000 yen or 900 dollars from his family and his estate for all the trouble that he had caused me. According to Mr. Tanaka's interpretation, am I now a murderer? I wonder if I'll go to hell now for killing someone for 115,000 yen or 1,050 dollars. You can share this story if you feel compelled, and I just want to thank you for listening. To be continued... My hometown is surrounded by mountains. I spent many happy years playing with my friends in those mountains. Building bases, hide and seek, you know the type of thing. The thing I enjoyed doing the most was exploring.

Those mountains felt as if they were ours. One afternoon, my friend's circle had grown a little bored of the standard forest trails. We wanted a little more adventure, so we decided to go off the beaten path. A decision that we didn't know at the time could have been life-altering or even life-ending. We wanted to walk where others hadn't so we headed deeper into the mountainous woods. There were a few of us and it was late in the summer. The trees provided a lot of shade so it felt cooler than it was. Even as young as I was back then, I knew the risks that we were taking, so I brought something along to help us not get lost. I lifted this little spindle of string from the art room at my school. I tied the end to a tree close to the forest trail so

that we would be able to find our way back. It felt like a foolproof idea at the time. The ground was really uneven off the trail. It was littered with stones and dead tree limbs. We didn't mind it really because it made us feel as if though we were on an expedition. We were out in the elements and there was nothing but the sounds of our labored breath and the distant trill of insects. It was amazing. After walking for about 10 to 15 minutes we came across a small hill. We climbed the hill and when we got down to the other side it opened out into a kind of clearing. I distinctly remember a big rock there.

We figured that this would be a great place to take five and drink some water. One of my friends brought along some candy so we were just tearing into that. And while we were taking a break, I noticed something strange. I almost missed it, but once I spotted it, I had to just go over and take a closer look. There was a toy lying on the forest floor. It was a toy for kids a little younger than us. We were in the fourth grade at the time, and once I announced my discovery to my friends, they all came over to take a look and our expedition turned into an investigation. It wasn't just the one toy, there were others. Hot wheels, cars, and someone found a doll. Fear crept up on me. Seeing these objects in a place that they really shouldn't be frightened me. Maybe it was because at my age, my toys meant the world to me and I'd never leave

them lying around, especially not in the forest. I was worried that something had happened. We all stood around, puzzled, until one of my friends yelled out to us. He was pointing at something a little outside of the clearing. We all raced over to look at what he was pointing at. And this is where things became a little difficult to explain. There was a kind of altar constructed of clay-like mud. It was the weirdest thing. It was definitely a human construction, it didn't look natural. And this kind of altar construction was a hollowed out section,

and in that section was an object. I couldn't make out what it was at first, but it looked like a photo. Well, that just meant that we had to find out what the photo was. The photo was dirty, and it looked as if though it had been out here for a while. The photo was of a girl. It looked as if though it was a commemorative photo, you know, like one that you might see at a gravesite. That photo looked as if though it had been snatched right out of a cemetery. The forest around us, which was our background for the adventure, took on a different vibe. It seemed as if though we were somewhere we

shouldn't be. It seemed as if all the calmness in our day had gone. I felt as if though someone could be out here with us, watching us. All of a sudden I didn't want to be off the beaten path anymore. There was something so illogical about what we were looking at. The toys, the photo, the weird mud construction. It was just wrong. I wanted to run, and one quick glance at my friend's faces told me that they were on the same page. We followed the string back to the trail. We weren't in the mood to talk anymore, and I didn't feel like myself until I got out of those mountains. Since that day, I never played off the trail. We weren't in the mood to talk anymore, and I didn't feel like myself until I got out of those mountains. Since that day, I never played off the trail. I still have a general idea of how

to get to the clearing where we found that weird altar, but I have no interest in returning. My mind tortures me with questions that I can't answer. Why was that photo there in such a remote location? And the toys? Was it some kind of grisly memento of something that happened to the girl of that photo? Were we looking at some felons' trophies? The other thought that comes to mind is that perhaps the family who lost that girl couldn't afford a burial, and through perhaps shame, they created their own memorial site in an isolated location where they could mourn without disturbance. If that's the case, it's heartbreaking. It didn't make sense.

Nothing about what I saw that day on the streets as a homeless man. It was terrible doing so. The stares and the looks of disgust were nothing compared to the violence I endured. I got into an altercation with some guys one night in a park in Tokyo and I was beaten to within an inch of my life. I had to get out of the area as I thought that they would be back. I remember moving from place to place and it was all a bit of a blur. Somehow I ended up way up in the sticks, close to the mountains, and eventually I ended up living in an abandoned shrine.

It wasn't so bad. I would walk down to the village and exchange my labor for food in the village. You might think that living in an abandoned shrine might be scary, but I can tell you that it was only one thing that I was scared of at that time, and that's people. I would offer my services to anyone who had any work available. I like to think of myself as a jack-of-all-trades and all-rounder. I would often go to ask people in the streets or go door to door trying to drum up some work. Once a guy asked me what services I could offer and I said pretty much anything.

He then pulled a gun out, cocked the trigger and put it against my head. It's loaded, he said. You can imagine how I felt, right? He put the gun away and said, I just wanted to point a loaded gun at a human, and then he threw me some money my way and just left. I guess that the cash he threw was what he demanded the value of my life to be. Not long after that, a gang found out where I had been living, and they came late one night. When they found me, one said a phrase so off-putting that I don't think I'll ever forget it. You have no human rights. He had already dehumanized me. They carried sticks, iron bars, and metal pipes and came at me. It was too late to escape, and when they were through, I was left

with a broken leg. It was torture. At the same time I experienced such a lack of humanity, I also experienced the opposite. The farmer that I had worked for in the village brought food to me when he had heard about the gang attack and even paid for my hospital bills. If it wasn't for him, I probably wouldn't have been found and I might have starved to death in my makeshift home. There was no way that I could have got down that mountain to the village with a broken leg. I owed that man my life. I asked if there was any way that I could have got down that mountain to the village with a broken leg. I owed that man my life. I asked if there was any way that I could repay him and he just replied, Why don't you try and grow some vegetables or something?

Make yourself a living. Pay me back something when you get set up. There's no rush. I learned a lot about agricultural work from him. Even when he gave me a method to repay his generosity, I felt like I was still getting more than I was giving. The soil by the shrine was hard and not much would grow, but I was determined to pay him back. I would go to the river countless times a day to fetch water, and eventually I made some serious progress. This joy was short-lived, though.

A group of people who were into urban exploration came to the abandoned shrine and trashed my little farm. They stomped all over my plants. Why? I had nothing, yet people still wanted to take from me. And something snapped in me. I felt robbed and I wanted someone to pay for it. I kept a 2x4 with me at all times. I decided to be ready for whoever wanted to mess for it. I kept a 2x4 with me at all times. I decided to be ready for whoever wanted to mess

with me. Living that way made me happy. Fight or flight, a return to animal instincts. I knew that all humans were capable of terrible acts, and I grew less trustworthy. I was always scared of spirits and ghosts, but humans are worse. It was at this point that I started seeing things. I thought the shrine was haunted. I decided if there was something else with me in the shrine, I wanted to be of service to the shrine since the farm wasn't working out. I had learned some carpentry skills when I was younger. I thought that I would try and clean up the place and mend some things. Maybe if the shrine looked a bit more maintained it would keep the urban explorers and the gangs away. Being busy took my mind off of my hate for those who sought to hurt me. I started to speak to God or whatever the spirits that inhabited the shrine were.

I'd say hello and goodbye. At first to myself and then quietly but in the end I was talking loudly like there was someone with me. Eventually the shrine looked pretty good, and I started to see the ghost again. She was a beautiful woman, and she was so pleased that I had cleaned up the shrine. She would just sit there and comb her gorgeous hair. Sometimes I wouldn't even see her, I would just hear some rummaging noises. I felt that I had some company, and I enjoyed it. The gang came back one night, the same gang which attacked me and broke my leg before. They laughed at me when I called out for help, when I called to her,

but they weren't laughing when my friend who owned the farm arrived with his hunting rifle. They never came back after that. Since he saved me, I decided to stop being so hateful and I put that energy into agriculture. I still needed to pay him back even though he wasn't expecting anything from me. I was determined and through years of hard work, dedication and support from my friend I managed to hone my skills. I found some land to rent, used it and did well and I kept repeating. Now I own several plots and I have several employees.

I usually offer work to those who are in the same positions as me, homeless. And as for my friend, I paid him back. I bought him several plots of land by the mountains. Finding a partner hasn't really worked out for me but whenever I am down I seem to dream about the spirit of the woman in the shrine. Sometimes I think that I was rescued by someone other than my farmer friend. So my next project is restoring the shrine to its former glory and reinstating a priest there. My friend has an older sister and we all think that she's being stalked. It's ongoing but I want to share what's happening currently.

My friend's sister has been staying with my friend for a while now to get away from it all and repel her stalker. She said it's like living in a nightmare. I wanted to do something nice for her so I offered to take them both out for dinner to take their minds off of things. We sat down to dinner and things were going well until I saw my friend's sister's face drop. She began to tremble and I felt bad for asking them to come out. Maybe it was too soon. Then she muttered, he sat behind me. I looked behind her and I saw an old man with an unnaturally creepy smile. He was peering towards our table. He made me feel nauseous. He was just gross.

He was the stalker. My friend had seen this guy following her sister before, so we were beyond it being a coincidence or a case of paranoia. My friend had had enough. She stood up and went over to his table and said loudly, If you don't stop following my sister, then I'm going to the police. A few tables of people look over but the old man just sat there smiling that insane smile. After a few moments he got up and stepped away from his table and left.

His expression didn't change, he just kept smiling. We thought that a bit of public embarrassment might be enough to put the creep off and make him leave my friend's sister alone. We were convinced that it would work and it turned out to be a correct prediction. Over the coming days, we would all joke about how easy it was. Everything came to a standstill for her sister and a sense of normality was resumed in her life. However, just as soon as it ended, it seemed to start again. This time, the old man's target of torment was different. This time, he was stalking my friend and not her sister and he was a little more cunning in the method of stalking this time around. The old man began to haunt her life. He would just appear any

place that she went but always at a distance or appearing inconspicuous. I'll give you some examples. If she was out taking a walk or simply heading home, the old man would appear on his bike riding towards her or from behind her. He would smile that creepy smile of his as he passed her by. He would be there during a rush hour in the subway where crowds are gathered and it made her feel as though she couldn't escape from him. In places where it was difficult to move or get away quickly, she'd see that weirdo in his smile. But enough was enough. My friend went to the police, and unfortunately they weren't able to help.

They said that because he hasn't actually done anything except smile at her and her sister, they couldn't really do anything about it. She left the station frustrated and with a feeling of vulnerability. The old man and his behavior got worse though. He was everywhere. She thought that the police might be able to intervene when she saw him at the college on campus, but again, they weren't able to help or offer any kind of protection. To the untrained eye, he was just an old man who was walking around smiling. What's the harm in that? She tried to mobilize all her friends to help to discourage his behavior, but to our surprise, some of her friends didn't believe her. They said that she was grasping at straws. She must have felt quite alone at the time. I believed her though. I had first-hand experience.

I saw the creep with my own eyes. Plus anyone who knew my friend well enough would say that she is far from a liar or an exaggerator. It was helpless. Every day she grew more nervous and worn down and every day the old man just smiled at her. She never did anything and he just watched her and continued to smile. She eventually dropped out of college and has grown less and less responsive to my calls and messages. I haven't really heard from her lately, and it's really worrying me. I feel as if though we are right on the edge of something happening. Maybe I should speak up and yell at him like she did for her sister, but if I did, then wouldn't he just start stalking me? I don't know. Recently, I got in contact with their sister and I asked how she's doing. She thought that she was just

wrapped up with studies. She didn't know what had been going on. I don't know what'll come of this, but I'm hoping that she's just laying low for a while, and I hope that creep hasn't escalated his stalking. I work at a funeral home and we have a crematorium at work. This happened not too long ago, but I don't think I'll ever forget it. One morning I was sweeping the entranceway and a black SUV pulled into our parking area. A middle-aged man got out and I could tell that he was wealthy. I clocked the Frank Mueller watch on his wrist. Nice.

He came over and inquired about a cremation service. Well, he literally said, Can you burn a body for me? I was taken aback by that statement. Normally, we are contacted by family members of the departed and they don't always arrive with the body in their car. Then of course we need a certification of death and some other documentation. We needed to be informed ahead of time because we need to make preparations. He said that he called my boss already and the boss agreed to cremate the body

today. His tone was pretty aggressive. He said we needed to get this cremation moving fast. I asked him to wait for a moment while I went to check with my boss. I felt kind of nervous. This seemed highly unusual. My boss was the director of the funeral hall and he said that we have to do the cremation as fast as we can. This was really weird. Why are we doing these things so different today, I wondered. I couldn't do anything about it though, it was just my job, so I went to open the ovens. I saw the body. It belonged to a man who looked to be in his early 30s. I'd seen a lot of corpses before, but there was something slightly different about this one.

His cheeks seemed pink. I usually check the corpse before burning, it's part of the rules here, and I noticed that it was very clean and appeared to be without any trauma. I put the body into the coffin and pushed the coffin into the cremation ovens. After about 20 minutes or so I heard this dreadful noise rising from the ovens. It was like a banging sound. Everything suddenly was plunged into darkness all around me. Life felt incredibly cold as I asked myself the deeply troubling question, was he alive when he went in there? What hurt the most was the fact that there was nothing I could do. Because 20 minutes in the ovens at heat that high, everything is already burning. I couldn't move. My limbs were shaking with fear and I felt paralyzed. Was I hearing

things? I couldn't be sure. Usually after an hour everything in the ovens is reduced to cinders but I couldn't stand that. I needed to know. I managed to pull myself together and stop the ovens and I noticed that the rich guy wasn't around anymore. I was really so scared so I asked my boss to open the ovens with me and I told him that I heard a noise while they were on. My boss opened the ovens and all the stench of grilled meat invaded our nostrils. It was kind of like a barbecue smell and it lingered in the air. My boss then pulled the main tray out so we could see and the body was half burned. It was facing down. I was pretty certain that he wasn't facing downward when I put the body in. I was sure that the man was still alive when he was brought in.

I imagined while the ovens were on, he was turning and doing anything in his power to escape. I hadn't been hearing things and I was completely destroyed by this realization. This has never happened before. Never had I seen the body turn over during cremation. I was sat in the main hall with my head in my hands struggling with the weight of the situation I was in. My boss came over to me and handed me something. 10 million yen, which is about 77,000 dollars. He told me that telling my story to anyone wouldn't be worth it. People wouldn't believe me and reminded me that the rich guy I met at the start of this story wouldn't be very happy

if he heard that I was talking about what happened today. I quit that job, obviously, but now I'm living on the money that I was given until I get a new job. I'm not myself anymore. I can barely find the energy to get out of bed. I can't really sleep these days. My nightmares are filled with the memories of that day. And sometimes I dream that I'm the man in the coffin and I feel the heat surrounding me. I kick and scream and then I wake up covered in sweat. I am not doing well. When I went back to my hometown last year, something really weird happened. It started when the neighbor across the street warned me that there was a suspicious person in the area. Apparently someone was going around ringing people's doorbells at around 1am in the neighborhood.

My neighborhood said that they ignored the doorbell at first since they were in bed since it was so late. Everyone in their house was in bed asleep. The doorbell kept ringing so my neighbor's husband got out of bed to see what was going on. He took his phone with him so his wife could listen. He asked through the door in a quiet voice, Who is it? Is there some type of emergency? And then a man's voice responded, I made a promise to Sarah. Can you let me in? There was no Sarah in the house or my neighbor's family, and because it was a newly built house, there was no former resident called Sarah either. So he explained this to the

stranger at the door and told him to get lost. But it's a promise. I remember it well, the stranger said. I got a promise for you. If you don't go away, I'm calling the cops, okay? The neighbor's husband called the cops anyway because the guy outside didn't show any signs of leaving. The police arrived quickly, but the man at the door was nowhere to be seen. So the neighbors warned us to be careful just in case he decided to come back. We spoke about it at dinner that night and I remember my parents were making sure everything was locked when the sun went down. Later that night, my dad and I were in the living room watching TV. It was just after midnight, and the doorbell rang. I really didn't

expect it, and I could tell neither did my dad. There we were, two full-grown men afraid of the doorbell. Before assuming that it was the weirdo who called at my neighbor's house, I actually went and checked. We didn't have a way to check outside, you know, like those ring doorbells, so I crept over to the curtains. I pulled the curtains back just enough to create a gap to look outside. Through the gap in the curtains, I saw a man wearing a hat and a big dark brown overcoat. He was wearing boots as well. His face was hidden by the turned up collar of his overcoat and I couldn't really see his face. I watched as he pushed the doorbell again.

My dad whispered to me to not get caught looking at the guy so I immediately shut the curtain. This guy was definitely suspicious, there was no doubt. I mean you wouldn't want a guy like that at your door, let me put it that way. We decided to call the police since the neighbors were already worried about the guy, but until the police arrived, we thought that we would keep him busy since last time he seemed to bolt. For about three minutes straight, he rang our doorbell. He was so persistent. My dad had had enough of this, so he went out to the hallway and approached the door. He stood before the frosted glass and asked, Who are you?

I'm the guy who promised to meet Sarah. What's your name? Um, well, is this an emergency? I promised Sarah I really want to come in. The guy talked in circles. Of course, there was no Sarah in our house either. If he told them that, though, he would just keep talking about his promise. It got you nowhere.

He kept saying that he remembered his promise. While this was going on, I called the police discreetly. I wanted to see this guy get taken away, but he left before the police car arrived. We then heard the knocking at the door and it was a police officer. We have a door in front of the actual front door to our house, kind of like a porch. I was amazed to hear the knocking from the officer on our actual front door and not on the porch door. When the weird guy was at the door I was certain that the porch door is shut and I didn't hear it open or close when he left. This door can only be locked from the inside. How was that possible, I wondered. It creeped me out, but my dad didn't seem to care all that much. He calmly explained the situation to the officer. He gave a really accurate description of the guy too and informed the cop

that this happened to the neighborhood last night. The officer said that he hadn't seen anyone suspicious in the area and this guy knew how to get away and fast. However, there were footprints in the snow. The cop said that he would follow them and see if he could find anything. He promised that there would be an increase in patrols and asked us to report back to him instantly if the guy came back. He cautioned us, said to try and avoid going out alone late at night and to double and triple check the doors that they were locked.

This cop wasn't a new guy and he was older than my dad and something about this situation had him spooked and I was getting really nervous. There was something very sinister about this guy looking for Sarah. My mother watched the whole thing. She was sat on the stairs and I turned to her and asked if she definitely locked the door outside the front door, that porch door that I mentioned and she was adamant that she did. My dad could sense our nerves and he tried to laugh it off. Don't worry guys, I'm sorry we couldn't get him this time. After we all confirmed and were happy that all the doors were locked, we went to bed. I couldn't sleep much, but I was relieved to see a police car patrolling the area at around 3am from my window.

The next day, we heard that someone else in the neighborhood's doorbell rang. My dad was really angry at the police. He said they must not be doing their jobs right if they hadn't caught the guy yet. Four more days passed when others in the area reported the late night doorbell rings. Everyone said the same thing. A stranger came to the door asking for a Sarah and asking to come in. He wasn't caught. The thing I find the weirdest about this is not one person was able to describe what his face looked like. That stranger was the stuff of nightmares. I spent New Year's with my family and left to go back to my home, worried for them.

About a week later I called my mom to check in on her and get an update on the situation. The house across the street from us found a note in their mailbox that read, Sarah's not here, but I found her. Thank you very much. The letters were painted by a brush, almost like calligraphy. I'm wondering if we will get an apology letter too, or what it means if we don't get one. I'm sorry it sounds like a mundane story, but imagine if it happened to you. A stranger whose face no one saw in the neighborhood going around in the dead of night, talking nonsense and trying to talk their way into your home. I don't like it, and I don't like that he found Sarah either. This happened when I was 25.

I'm a female and I've been dating a guy for about a year. Things were going great so he asked me to meet his parents. He invited me to have dinner at their family home. It was at his parents' house where something unimaginable happened. My boyfriend was from the countryside and his family still lives there. From where I lived, it took three hours to get there by car. When I finally got to meet them, my boyfriend's attitude towards me changed dramatically. It really surprised me.

He was usually quite the gentleman, but in front of his parents, he addressed me with such terms like you and oi. Just downright rude. He shouted at me using these words like he was commanding me or something. He had never treated me like this before, but since I was in his parents'' home I just put up with it and gave him the benefit of the doubt. I mean what else could I have done? I didn't want to make a scene or embarrass him. I could see where he got it from. His dad was throwing his weight around and bossing everyone around. His father shouted some command at his mom when she was doing something not quite to

his liking and it was pretty harsh. I looked over at her and she just kept her head down and did as she was told like this was totally normal. His family were giving off some seriously suspicious vibes. I was starting to really regret coming and it was so awkward and intimidating. At dinner, his father stared at me and said, when you get married, you live here. It caught me off guard. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a joke. It was a demand. I just focused on cutting my food and waiting for my boyfriend to speak up for me, but he never did. So eventually I just said, I haven't made any decisions about that yet. His dad glared at me. He looked so angry and said, if you marry my son, you'll live here.

Got it? And he shouted at me, a guest. I stared at my boyfriend and he must have felt my eyes pleading with him for some sort of help or defense, but he was just as silent as his mother. It killed me when he looked at his father and just nodded. Now more to the point, my boyfriend had never mentioned marriage to me before, so I was totally shocked by this, and to be honest, our relationship has had its rocky moments. They started speaking of specific dates for a wedding, and the pressure was starting to intensify. Later, after dinner, when I was alone with my boyfriend, I said, hey, I feel a bit sick and I want to go home. Something isn't quite right.

He didn't say anything, so I decided to start gathering up my things to head home by myself. Just as I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm. Are you running away? He boomed. He had totally changed. It was like I didn't know him at all. He forced me back into his childhood bedroom, and he overpowered me. He shut the door on me and locked it.

I beat on the door and screamed for someone to let me out. I was making so much noise, there was no way that no one else in the house wouldn't have heard me. Things got worse when I realized that I had left my phone on charge downstairs. I couldn't do anything. I literally was a prisoner, and I was stunned. After a while, the door unlocked and my psycho boyfriend's mom entered the room. I was pleased to see her. I thought that she had come to my aid,

but my hopes were dashed instantly when she handed me some papers. Sign this. It was a marriage certificate. If you do, you can go, she said in a monotone voice. It was the real deal. I won't sign that. I'll never marry him. You think you can escape, do you? Well, go on. Try your best. She asked me to sign it again and I told her where to go. She got up, walked out of the room,

and locked the door again. I needed to stay calm. I was terrified, sure, but I needed to keep my composure if I had a chance of getting out. I decided to wait until it was the dead of night and I turned all of the lights off in the room and kept as still as possible. Before shutting off the lights, I figured the window would be my best and only option for escape. I would just have to deal with getting an injury if it happened. I opened the window and managed to climb down into the porch roof silently. It truly was amazing. I walked the whole night through to reach the train station, fearing for my safety, looking over my shoulder for that crazy mother and father. Days and weeks passed after this incident. I got email after email from my boyfriend.

You think that's the last of us? You really think you can get away? We'll not forgive this. Because I was living on my own at the time, I was too terrified to go back to my apartment alone. I asked friends and relatives to let me stay with them. I pleaded with them. One friend who lived quite far from where I met my boyfriend allowed me to stay with them and I felt safer. With the help of a lawyer and a support group I achieved what he told me was impossible. I escaped from him and his family. I hear from friends and neighbors from my old life.

They say that they have seen him hanging around my former apartment and my old hangouts. Even though I live miles and miles away from him now, I'm still worried that he'll find me or find a way to hurt my family. To be continued... I was fairly new to the world of work and I had just started working for a company. Back then at work, I was working late nights and early mornings. In fact, all of us really were. A company had a kind of rotation for this and we had to do one late shift followed by one morning shift every week. I remember leaving the late shift after 11pm on the night in question. I walked through the dimly lit parking lot back to my car. I got in and started checking my messages on my smartphone. Then suddenly a thought came to me. I wasn't sure

if I had locked up upon leaving work. As I was the last one out due to the night shift, this was my responsibility. It couldn't be helped. I summoned up the energy to head back there and check. I got out of my car and headed back to work, checked and then headed back to my car. Thankfully it was locked and I must have been gone for all of about 40 seconds max. I got in and started my engine and felt a clammy hand cover my mouth. Then I felt a man's hot breath against my ear say, If you keep your mouth shut, you don't die. I couldn't speak. I was terrified into silence. I just remember waves of panic crashing over me. My head was completely blank. I looked in the rearview mirror and nodded my head.

I recognized the man behind me. He worked in the same company as me, but in a completely different department. I was surprised, and against his orders, I asked aloud, Howard, why? No, the words just came out of me. I had never really spoken with him before. He was just kind of a quiet guy but I knew him, and he replied, I've been interested in you since you started working here. If you don't say you're going to be mine, I'll kill you right here. Fearful for my life, I could do little else than nod in agreeance.

He then pulled down the lever of my seat so my seat went flat and began attempting to drag me into the back seats towards him. I screamed for him to stop. You said you don't like me, he mumbled. He was trying to pull my clothes off. I thrashed at him and I think somehow on the scuffle he hit something against the open passenger door and this gave me enough time to get free. I ran back on the scuffle he hit something against the open passenger door, and this gave me enough time to get free. I ran back to the company building since I had the key. I got in there, and I locked myself in. I called a male colleague who left shortly after me and told him what had just happened.

I know I should have called the police, but I was in such a panic. Fortunately for me, my colleague was still in the area area and he turned around immediately and headed back to work. With him around, I felt that I was safe to unlock the door. We went to the parking lot and searched for Howard but couldn't find him anywhere. It was at this point that I filed a police report. I was absent from work for a while and I decided to use my vacation time. I didn't want to go back there and have to talk to the gossipers. And while I was away, Howard was arrested. With this in mind, I was happy to go back to work as long as he wasn't there. I thought it was safe. When I came back to work, I was told that women were no longer going to be working the night shift alone

and the company offered to help me relocate if I wasn't comfortable working there any longer. My parents wanted me to do this but I didn't, I actually liked the job. I didn't want to let that creep make me quit my job, I wanted him to know that I wasn't scared. Plus with him arrested I didn't think that I had anything to worry about. My company informed me on my first day back that he had been dismissed, and that was really good to hear. The police were in touch, and they advised me to keep my doors locked and the usual safety precautions. They said that a momentary lapse in concentration almost cost me my life, and they told me to ruminate on that for a while. This happened when I was driving north of Kyoto and I had a couple of friends in the car with me. It was late, a little after 1am I think.

My friends and I would often go on night excursions. We would just drive around with much intention and just drive wherever. We usually ended up in the middle of nowhere, but thank God for GPS. We were driving through a pretty quiet area and there was a lot of distance between the houses that we passed. It was a dark night in late autumn. There was a red light up ahead and the car in front slowed to a stop and I did too. I was looking ahead and I noticed something about the car. The trunk looked like it was open a little. I looked looking ahead and I noticed something about the car. The trunk looked like it

was open a little. I looked closer and realized that it was. It wasn't really my issue so I started to look away but just as I did, something unexpected happened. A man wearing pajamas rolled out from the trunk and onto the road before the light changed to green. He was a slim middle-aged man by the look of it. His hands were tied behind his back and he had a gag in his mouth. It was incredibly shocking to see. He rose to his feet, wobbled a little and then started walking unsteadily towards my car. He looked utterly terrified. His eyes were dark with fear and his face a twisted plea of desperation. He was on the verge of tears. No, I'll never forget that.

You can't forget seeing something like that. His eyes locked with mine and passed over my friends in the car and we were all stunned into silence. The driver's side and the passenger's side doors of the car and front opened and two men emerged from the car. And they walked towards the man from the trunk. They quickly and easily caught him. The driver then pulled something out of his pocket. It was a firearm. He struck the man and the other man caught him before he fell on the ground. It was raining that night and all the windows of the car were shut, but we could all hear the sound of the butt of that gun connecting with the man in the pajamas head. It was a sickening crack. The two men then returned the man to where he crawled

out from the trunk. They slammed it shut, looked over their shoulders at us very quickly and then they returned to their car. The light turned green and they stepped on it. We were stunned and we just sat in the car, wide-eyed and stared ahead at the now open road. Then a car from behind's horn jolted us back to reality. We drove ahead and then pulled over to call the police. I was told to wait where I was for an officer to arrive. It took about ten minutes and during that time my friends and I were pretty much silent as we had nothing to say. We all told the officer when he arrived about what had happened.

He asked for me to go with him to the police station and I was more than happy to help in any capacity that I could and I was interviewed there for over an hour. Over the next few days and weeks I religiously watched the news expecting to hear something about what happened that night but I never heard anything. What happened seemed so unrealistic. It was like a scene from a film. I would question my recollection if it wasn't for my friends being in the car with me when it happened. I was young at the time, and I think seeing that incident for the first time was when I realized that the so-called dark side of the world really does exist. This happened when I was 14. I'm 34 now. And this is a story about a relative of mine.

We'll just call her Mrs. A. When I was a child, Mrs. A's husband passed away. She used to be very talkative and outgoing. However, after the loss of her husband, her personality changed. She became very quiet and distant. One night, towards the end of basketball practice, I think it was about 8.30pm, I saw Mrs. A stood at the gym doors. Although I hadn't seen her for quite a few years, I recognized her. At first, I said to one of the teachers, she's a relative of mine. My teacher bowed and walked over to her. They began a conversation. My teacher walked back over to me with a serious look on his face.

I just heard that your father has been in a serious car accident. I was speechless. Your relative over there has come to take you to the hospital. Please go ahead. I was mortified. I managed to get into Mrs. A's car. Her car pulled away from the school, speeding down the dark streets, and I began to ask Mrs. A many questions. Where's my dad? Hospital. Where's the hospital? A little bit further from here. What kind of condition is he in? I don't really know. I was shocked by her blunt and uncomforting answers. She was solely focused on driving. I felt no warmth from her, and she seemed heartless to me.

We were heading into the suburbs. The further we drove, the more suspicious I became. I live in a rural area in the mountains, and I knew that all the main hospitals are in the city. Once you head towards the mountains, there aren't any hospitals until the next city over, which is far. Every time I started talking to her or asking questions, she just replied with the same blunt answer, yeah. I started to wonder if the woman driving the car was really my relative. We were no longer driving on the city roads. Shops and houses were getting scarcer and scarcer. I knew that before long we would be really far into the countryside.

I saw the glow of a home center's lights up ahead. It was still open. I quickly said, Oh, I forgot. I have to call my teacher. He asked me to do him a favor. I'll have to let him know I can't now. I managed to get her to pull over at the home center. I burst out of her car and into the home center. I thought that I wouldn't be seen from inside. I looked through the store's windows and I saw Mrs. A's car in the parking lot. She wasn't in the driver's seat. She was walking towards the store. I had a terrible feeling when I saw her approaching. I ran to the other side of the store and sprinted through the exit doors onto the streets.

Luckily, a taxi was approaching. I ran in front of his car and got him to stop. I told him my address and I was on my way back home. When I had finally arrived home, my mom paid the taxi fare. I walked into my house and I saw my father sat in the living room drinking a beer and watching TV. Why are you breathing, Evelyn? What's with that look on your face? He asked. As I explained to him what happened, his face turned pale. He looked terribly concerned. Apparently, when Mrs. A's husband passed away, she suffered a nervous breakdown, and she was admitted into the hospital. She lost contact with the family because many family members grew worried by her strange behavior. My father said that because she doesn't have her own children, she was always alone,

and perhaps that affected her mental state state or made her interested in me. First, my father called her home phone number. No answer. In those days, mobile phones weren't popular and she didn't have one. Then my father called Mrs. A's family home. Her mother answered, my grandma's sister, and told us that Mrs. A had been absent from her part-time job and they had just called to ask where she was. Because of her strange behavior, others seemed to have stopped interacting with her. Communication with her had been held back. The next day, the police searched her home and in their report they noted that Mrs. A's purse and various valuable items were left there. They were at a loss as to the location of Mrs. A and her car or what current status they were in

They did find lots of empty cans and bottles of alcohol in her home and prescription drugs And now it's 20 years later We haven't seen or heard from Mrs. A and no one knows her whereabouts Perhaps I was the last person to see her alive Through the window of that home center. Due to the long absence, in the eyes of the law, nothing can be done about her or her attempted abduction. I can't help imagine what could have happened to me if on that day, if I didn't get out of that car. And also, where was she planning on taking me? I wonder sometimes if she's out there stalking me,

watching me, and I have so many unanswered questions. I want to share with you an experience I had in an apartment I lived in about two years ago. When I was house hunting, I was looking for a place which was cheap and I didn't mind a place that had a bit of an edge to it. A real estate company was keen to show me an apartment. It was a pretty small place, but it had a loft, nice sun coverage too. The cool thing about the place was the vast amount of storage space that it offered due to the high ceilings, and it was a great location. I literally had no complaints so I went ahead and told them that I'd take the apartment right there on the spot and boy was that a mistake. Back then I had a cat and I'm going to be completely honest here and hold my hands up

and say that I forgot to let them know that I had a pet. In my defense they never really asked. I felt guilty about it but I didn't want to lose this great new place or give up my cat. It was tough. I thought for all parties involved, it might be for the best to just keep my mouth shut and see if anyone noticed. After meeting some of the residents and introducing myself, I went to take a look around the area to see what was available. I wanted to acclimate myself and find my go-to stores. I liked the neighbors, and they seemed to be welcoming. After all the moving was done, I was exhausted so

that night I didn't unpack anything but the bare essentials. My cat was acting pretty weird. She was by the front door and was hissing occasionally. I put this down to her being in a new place so I didn't pay it much mind. But then my cat did this weird kind of low-grown voice. I'm sure you're familiar with the sound that I'm trying to describe, and that weirded me out a little more because she doesn't usually do that. I guessed that there might be another cat in the area or something, so I tried to ignore it and get some sleep, and I went to sleep pretty quickly due to the move. But my cat wouldn't stop this low growling, night after night, so one night, I tiptoed over to her and tried to figure out what was upsetting her. I knew that there was something on the other side of the door. I'm not talking about something supernatural. I'm talking about something human.

You know when you see the shadowy outline of feet in the gap beneath the door? That's what I saw. I really wanted to throw the door open and confront whoever was out there, but the risks were too great and I didn't feel safe. Whoever was out there wasn't a normal person. Who stands in front of someone's door in the dead of night? I was really terrified. I was living alone

as a young female and someone was out there for reasons not known to me. The only thing I could do was head back into my bedroom with my cat and hide out until the morning. My cat kept on growling and I barely slept that night. From then on, sleep was hard to come by, so I wanted to get out of that apartment, but I was locked into a long-term deal that I wanted to get out of that apartment but I was locked into a long term deal that I couldn't get out of without losing a load of money. I didn't have any family to turn to either. I would be able to move in three months so I just held on to that thought. I was so stressed out by the situation that I went to see a doctor and he told me that I was suffering from stress. I had lost weight too. I stayed with a friend for a couple of days until I was a burden and then I went back to my apartment. I decided to show my face more in the apartment complex

in the hopes that I would get along better with my neighbors. I also wanted them to know that I was okay just in case they were worrying. I said hello as I bumped into them and I was shocked to realize that every single one of them ended up in one way or another talking about my cat or cats in general. Let me give you a couple of examples. You know that cats aren't allowed in this building, right? That's crazy, right? Well, I just thought that you should know. I'd never dream of bringing a pet in here without the landlord's approval. I'm sure you feel the same.

You know that the landlord hates cats, right? I couldn't believe it at first. Did you know that? I never took my cat out of the room. She's an indoor cat. How on earth did they know? It's not like she was causing any trouble either. I was a proud cat owner and I took really good care of her. I was sick of these not so subtle comments so when the next person asked me I replied, how did you know I had a cat? I thought that they would feign ignorance but my neighbor's reply really shocked me because we all took turns watching. And this is where the story gets absolutely nuts. Apparently the landlord ordered the other residents to keep an eye on me. My neighbors said that the second I returned home from work, someone was ordered to keep watch.

The creepiest thing about this was the fact that she wasn't even embarrassed or found it strange that she was ordered to do so. She proudly and smugly said that she found my cat in there when she lifted up the mail slot in the door to look inside my apartment. I argued back that what she did was a complete invasion of my privacy and it was totally insane. All of my arguments were met with the same reply. We're only doing what the landlord told us. It was like a total setup and it was deeply disturbing. This landlord had them all brainwashed. Since this neighbor of mine was content to tell me everything, I asked more and more and her smug smile widened each time she knew that it was getting to me. The landlord told him to go through my mail to find out more about me. When I heard that, I decided enough was enough. I called the

real estate agency immediately and told them I was leaving and thankfully they were sympathetic and thankfully I didn't lose any money. I now knew why such a great place and a great location was so cheap. I guess I can laugh about it now and it's a story to tell but I still find it deeply disturbing. Nowadays I'm living in a better place. No weirdos outside, no issues with pets, and no insane landlord. Sometimes a good place is worth the price, and if something is too good to be true, it usually is. This happened a few years ago. My husband's a truck driver and this meant that he was always on the road.

He would be away six months out of the year. This happened just after my eldest daughter was born. It was really a tough time for me. I was really busy with childcare, my part-time work and keeping the house clean. I wasn't sleeping much at all those days. The lack of sleep was making me agitated and easily annoyed. We had a tiny apartment and the walls were thin. The neighbors were noisy too, but they were quick to get angry at any noise from our apartment. My daughter would cry and scream so loud and so the neighbors

wouldn't yell at me, I would take her outside into the alley no matter what time of night it was. On the night in question, my daughter was screaming the place down so as usual I took her outside. I always thought the cool air would help. I think it was around 1am. I was cradling my daughter in the dark alley. I was tired and I had work in the morning. After about half an hour, she seemed to be drifting off to sleep, so I decided to head back to the apartment. I put my daughter in her crib and walked into the living room and sat down. I remember I was just staring off into space, thinking about how tired and how lonely life felt. I sat in my dark living room with a glass of milk in my hand, listening to the distant rumble of a car outside.

Then, I heard a weird noise. Something metal scraping against metal. It was weird, but I thought that it was a street noise, possibly from the cars driving up and down the street. I couldn't afford to pay it any attention, though. It wouldn't stop. I knew that I should have just gone in search of the source of the sound, but I just didn't have the motivation to get up. So from my chair, I leaned forward and took a look. It sounded like it was coming from the front door. I heard that metal scraping sound followed by a new squeaking sound. Then I saw my doorknob start to turn slowly.

Someone was picking my lock. They might have been watching me in the alley or saw me go in. They must know that it's just me and my baby, alone. My heart began to thunder in my chest, and my hand was trembling so much that I spilled the milk all over the floor. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Please don't come in. Please leave me and my baby alone, I thought. I was frozen. I couldn't move. I just kept my eyes focused on the door.

The lock clicked. It was in that position to open. The door was now unlocked. I looked towards the chain. I usually forget to put the chain on the door. This time I hadn't forgotten and my body allowed me to breathe. I knew I shouldn't get up and turn the light. Maybe just by doing that would be enough to frighten the intruder off. I don't know if that was just wishful thinking. I couldn't do it anyway. I was too scared to move. The handle to the door slowly

opened allowing street light into my apartment. I covered my mouth with my hand because I was beginning to hyperventilate. I had my other arm under my armpit, cradling my body, trying not to shake with fear so much. The door opened slowly but stopped when the chain reached its full extent. In my mind I was telling this faceless intruder that I had no money and nothing of value. Then, as if in answer to this prayer, as if by telepathy, the door slowly shut without a sound. Suddenly, as if I snapped out of some kind of hypnosis, I was awake and able to move. I hoisted myself up, but my legs were still like jelly.

It was as if though I was getting up in installments. I needed to get to the door and lock it, but before my eyes, the door began to open again. Whoever was out there wasn't giving up. I felt despair in my heart when I saw a huge pair of bolt cutters emerge from the door and aim themselves at the chain. The chain was the only thing which was keeping the intruder out. This is where you die, I thought. This is the end. Then another voice told me to protect my daughter, and that voice was louder, stronger.

I screamed, releasing all this pent-up aggression and frustration. I didn't care what would happen to me, but I needed someone nearby, in the building, to hear me and help me save my daughter. I wanted to make as much noise as possible. I hurled my glass of milk at the door with all my might. The glass actually hit the bolt cutters and the glass exploded everywhere. The owner of the bolt cutters seemed to be so startled that they dropped them and they landed with a clatter at the front door. Then, from behind the door, I heard the sound of someone running as fast as they could. After a while, I crept over to the door and kicked those filthy bolt cutters out and locked it,

shaking with adrenaline as I did. I found out later that the university kid next door had heard my screams and came to check, but turned back when he saw that my door was locked and the lights were off. If he had knocked and come to check on me, there would have been no way in God's green earth that I would have answered. I cut my foot on some of the broken glass. It took about an hour for the tremors to subside, and this is when I decided to call the police. To my surprise, the police arrived in a few minutes, and as soon as I saw the officer's face, I started to uncontrollably cry. I know I sound like a total wuss, but to me,

what had happened was so indescribably terrifying. I kept my hand over my mouth as I cried. I didn't want to wake my daughter. Thank God the intruder left the bolt cutters behind because the police were able to track the culprit down and arrest him using this crucial piece of evidence. He was a known criminal, part of a gang which had previous arrests for burglary, violence, and even murder cases. I found some information in English which I'll link in the description about the severity of these lockpicking crimes, but everyone remember, keep your doors locked and keep your chain on. It might just save your life. To be continued... Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7pm Eastern Standard Time. If you get a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, r slash Let's Read

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