The Lets Read Podcast - 239: MY NEIGHBOR IS BONKERS | 37 True Scary Stories | EP 227

Episode Date: May 14, 2024

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Crazy Neighbors, New Schools, & Pokémon... 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/

If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get it from our Tread Experts. Until May 30th, purchase four new Michelin passenger or light truck tires and receive up to $70 by prepaid MasterCard. Conditions apply. Details at Michelin.ca. Find a Michelin Tread Experts dealer near you at TreadExperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there at Treadexperts.ca slash locations. Everyone's got a pro. Need tires?

I've got a pro. Car making a weird sound? I've got a pro. So who's that pro? The pros at Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, Tread Experts is always there, helping you with Michelin tires you can trust. Until May 30th, receive up to $70 by prepaid MasterCard with purchase of four new Michelin passenger or light truck tires.

Find your pro at your local Tread Experts. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca I recently moved into this quaint suburban neighborhood and ever since, I've had a sense of unease. The residents here were friendly enough, always waving and offering warm smiles as I walked by, but there was something about their gazes that left me feeling on edge. One evening as I returned home from work I noticed a flyer in my mailbox, an invitation to join the neighborhood watch, a group of residents dedicated to keeping the community safe. I kind of laughed to myself because I always thought that was sort of a thing of the past but I considered attending a meeting but my schedule was already packed and I had little

time for social engagements at the time. As the weeks went by, I couldn't help but notice the watch members becoming increasingly more visible. They patrolled the streets at all hours. They even had walkie-talkies and they were crackling with static as they exchanged updates and reports. It was pretty corny. But I appreciated their dedication to our safety, but I couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching me just a little too closely. It's worth noting that these stares and unwanted attention was nothing new for me. I have a neon green mohawk and a tattoo of a moth on my neck. One night, after returning from a late shift at the office, I found my front door wide open. Panic surged through me as I

started to rush inside, fearing for the worst of being robbed. To my relief, nothing appeared to be missing or damaged, and I just chalked it up to my own carelessness and resolved to being more vigilant in the future. After all, it was pretty windy, and I suppose it is possible that I could have left the door slightly open. However, the incidents didn't stop there. Over the next few weeks, I found my trash cans overturned, my garden sort of trampled, and my car vandalized. I reported these events to the police, but they were never any leads or suspects. As the harassment escalated, so too did my suspicion of that neighborhood watch and the weirdos that were a part of it. Through all of these incidents,

the neighborhood watch was always outside and around, and whenever I questioned them if they had seen anything, they mostly just shrugged and seemed kind of unresponsive. I began to wonder if they were behind these incidents and targeting me for reasons that I couldn't possibly fathom. The fear and paranoia that gripped me were palpable, leaving me constantly on edge. And I was determined to find answers, so I decided to attend the next neighborhood watch meeting. As I entered the community center, I felt the weight of just all the eyes that were clearly on me. The room was quiet as the members kind of exchanged these uneasy glances, but I thought maybe I was just reading too much into their body language. The meeting began with the usual updates and reports,

but I couldn't help but notice the tension that was in the air. When it came time for new business, I mustered my courage and confronted the group about the harassment I'd been experiencing. I even went as far as to accuse the watch of having some sort of vendetta against me. I was met with a mixture of shock and sympathy and denial. Several members insisted that the watch had nothing to do with the instance, while others suggested that perhaps I had made some enemies in the neighborhood and maybe those people were the ones causing me those issues. Now as the meeting ended, I felt a weird mixture of frustration and kind of hopelessness. It seemed that no one was willing to admit any wrongdoing or help me find the truth. I decided that if I

wanted answers, I would have to find them on my own. Over the next few weeks, I conducted my own covert surveillance, so to speak, discreetly documenting the movements and actions of the watch members. One night, I ended up having to work late. When I pulled into my driveway, I noticed that the floodlight positioned right above my side door was on. Now feeling that hunch, I decided to leave my car parked in the road and quietly made my way to the side door. Now when I made it inside, I found two of my neighbors, who looked like they were trying to find something in my kitchen. I pulled out my cell phone and started recording a video, and I couldn't believe what I captured.

My neighbors appeared to be planning something in my kitchen drawers. Thankfully, in the video, you can clearly see and hear them discussing calling the cops. I remain hidden and allow the two to leave my house. As I piece together this weird puzzle, a chilling theory sort of emerged in my head. These neighborhood watch members believe that my unconventional appearance made me a threat to the community's image and they had to take it upon themselves to get rid of me. Now with the evidence that I now had with the phone video, I just confronted the police with it. Surprisingly, they were appalled by my findings and decided to take immediate action. The guilty members were not only removed from the neighborhood watch, but thankfully they were also arrested on several different charges.

Now, with the truth out there, the neighborhood watch in my little town was completely disbanded. Not knowing if anyone else was involved with these two, I found it increasingly difficult to trust anyone within my now community. However, not long after this, the harassment completely stopped, and my life felt like it finally returned to normal. I had managed to expose all of this on my own, and the ordeal hadn't made me stronger, I guess. In the end, my actions sparked a conversation within the neighborhood about tolerance and acceptance. People began opening up to one another, sharing their own experiences and perspectives, and as a result, our community became more inclusive

and understanding. As for me, I decided to remain in the neighborhood, determined to be a force for positive change, even though I was kind of lazy and didn't want to leave. I even went as far as forming my own neighborhood watch, using my newfound sense of empowerment to help protect and actually uplift my fellow neighbors and community. Although the scars of those weeks would always still be there, they also served as a reminder of the strength and courage that can be found within each of us, even in the face of all the adversity that you might see. Now my experience taught me that standing up for oneself and seeking the truth, no matter how

difficult, weird, and sometimes scary the journey may be, can make a lasting impact on you and those around you. Back in 2019, I moved from the West Coast to a small town in upstate New York. The town had that charming feel that you would find almost in a Hallmark movie. Everyone seemed to be friendly and helpful and I felt welcomed into the community soon after moving in. Now a few months later, one of my neighbors went door to door informing everyone that there had been a theft from their shed which was in their backyard. The supposed thief had stolen a weed whacker, lawnmower, and other outdoor tools. Although the news of the theft had left some of the neighborhood shocked and kind of scared, I didn't feel uncomfortable or really paranoid. Having lived in a rough neighborhood before, I was kind of desensitized to theft. However, I reassured my neighbors in a

concerned voice that I would keep my eyes peeled for any sort of behavior like that. A couple of weeks went by without any further news of any sort of theft in the neighborhood until one afternoon when I got home from work. I found a flyer in my mailbox with the heading Neighborhood Watch. The flyer wasn't really official, there's no official watch team, but rather a group of neighbors who wanted to get together to stop ongoing thefts. Confused as I had not heard or been notified of any other crimes in the area, I went next door and asked my neighbor Cliff if he had heard anything. Cliff was one of those kind of stoic types. He was in his early 70s and a widower.

His wife, Irene, had passed away a few years before I moved into town. Even though Cliff was quiet, he was one of the nicest people I had met since moving there. He had helped me fix my car, dishwasher, dryer, and even installed a new sliding door for me after a storm knocked a tree through the previous one. I never asked him to do any of these things, but he always insisted, saying that it gave him a chance to get out of the house and be productive. I liked his calm and quiet demeanor as it reminded me of my dad. When I asked Cliff if he had heard anything about the ongoing crime, he kind of grumbled in his gruff voice, saying, I don't really know too much

I guess some punks have been breaking into sheds and stealing stuff nothing of mine has been stolen I nodded and made some small talk with him before I started to walk down his driveway when I was a few feet away he shouted to me hey just be careful and make sure you lock your doors I did hear that whoever is doing that is breaking into houses now, so... I smiled and thanked him for one last time.

That night was no different from any other night. I made my dinner, had a few glasses of wine, and did some work on my computer. At around 11 that evening, I thought that I had heard something outside, like a cough or something. I made my way to the big window in my living room and looked through the blinds. Across the street, I saw one of my neighbors outside looking right at my house. It was strange and a little creepy, but I thought that he could have been just looking at the stars, so I just sort of dismissed it.

A few minutes later, I couldn't shake that weird and horrible feeling in my stomach. I decided to get up and grab another glass of wine. My kitchen is in the back of the house and I have one of those big bay windows over the sink and counter that overlooks the backyard. I have a big yard that empties into a small wooded area. When I was pouring another glass, I happened to look out the window and I thought that I saw some movement. I shut the lights off in the kitchen so I wasn't visible from the outside. I cut my hands and looked through the glass of the window. To my disbelief, there was a person in my backyard looking at my house. I couldn't tell who it was as it was too dark and they were

far enough away but it was undeniably a person. While I stood there in a sort of panic, the silhouette of the person started to jog towards my house. I jumped back, trying to process my thoughts. I decided to call the police but my phone was in the other room. As I composed myself and started briskly walking toward the other room, I heard a loud bang upstairs. I froze again. In those brief seconds of panic, I heard heavy footsteps upstairs. I ran to the closet in the living room and hid underneath all the blankets. My phone was still on the other table and I didn't know what to do. At this point, I had no idea how many people were in my house and what kind of danger I truly was in.

Within seconds of hiding, I could hear the heavy boots making their way down my hardwood steps. In a sheer stroke of luck, there was a knock on the door and the footsteps stopped abruptly. The boots sounded like they were right outside my door. Another knock on the door and this time was followed by the line, hello, is anyone home? This is the police. I heard the steps move a bit faster and stop in another room. By the sound I could tell that the intruder was no longer near the closet door. With only one hope, I ran out of the closet and to my front door. I opened it up and thankfully, it actually was a real police officer. I started to

frantically plead that someone was in my house and I heard the steps go in that direction. The two officers began to run inside and in no time at all, they were escorting a man out of my house in cuffs. I felt sick as I stood and stared at the officers arresting the man. Not because I had an intruder in my house, but because that intruder was Cliff. Cliff from next door. I was speechless as he walked by, mumbling some sort of nonsense to himself. While I was outside talking to the cops, I noticed the neighbor across the street, whom I saw staring at my home, and the other person whom I saw in the backyard, come over to me. I immediately went into defense mode, thinking that these two were part of the intrusion, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

These two were on a late night walk and had seen Cliff going into my window upstairs. They called the police and were watching Cliff's movements upstairs. I guess they didn't want to bring attention to the situation in case I was in immediate danger. After an investigation, they found out that Cliff was the neighbor thief as well. He admitted to stealing all those belongings and breaking into my home. However, he never admitted what he had planned on doing inside my home that evening, which still kind of makes me sick thinking about it. I guess after his wife died and retiring from his job, he was bored and was looking for any form of excitement he could find. He found that rush from stealing and unfortunately that hunger I guess just kind of grew. And in hindsight, I'm thankful for our

little makeshift neighborhood watch. If it hadn't been for my lovely neighbors, the end of this story could have been much different. The End Several years ago, when I moved into my new housing development, I joined my local neighborhood watch. In my first few months on the watch, I witnessed something that I still can't believe. As it all started one late spring evening, as the sun started to drop below the horizon, the neighborhood watch gathered for their monthly meeting. We were a close-knit community, and the watch was our way of ensuring that our streets remained safe and welcoming for all. It didn't take long for me to get acclimated to the rules and the people, and I quickly made friends with my fellow watch members. Our meetings typically consisted of discussing any suspicious activity or safety concerns, followed by a social hour where we would catch up on each other's lives. That was my favorite part.

Truthfully, at first, this was the main reason I joined, like I said, and I didn't think the area that I moved into would have much crime and I figured this would be a great way to meet new people. But tonight's meeting felt different. The atmosphere felt really tense and I noticed that several of the neighbors seemed on edge. As we shared updates and reports around the table, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just strange. My suspicions were confirmed when our watch leader, Mr. Thompson, nervously announced that there had been a recent string of thefts in the area. The news sent a weird ripple of unease through the room, and Mr. Thompson assured us that the police were investigating it, but that we should all remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity. As the meeting continued, I noticed that some of my neighbors were exchanging strange

looks and whispers, as if though they were trying to gossip about something. As the days wore on, I became increasingly determined to uncover the truth. I approached my friend, Susan, who was also a neighborhood watch member, and asked her if she had seen anything suspicious. She seemed almost nervous to talk about it but eventually told me what she had thought. The reason why she was so tense was that she had a horrible feeling that the theft was coming from someone inside the watch. To my surprise, Susan confided in me that she had information that one of the neighborhood watch members had been using their position to carry out the thefts themselves. They had been stealing valuable items from houses

under the guise of conducting safety checks or while patrolling the area. I was shocked by this. I had joined the watch to help protect our community, not take advantage of it, and Susan explained that she feared what may happen to our small community if she came forward and she was wrong. We decided to go through all the evidence and put an end to this ordeal once and for all. So Susan stayed over at my house that evening and after a few glasses, she gave me all the evidence that she could find. I'm not going to lie, at this point it

felt weird. I never knew of any neighborhood watch to gather evidence like this. It felt like Susan and I were actual detectives or something, it was kind of funny. She had photos, time logs, and all sorts of things that showed that Mr. Thompson was actually a thief. The leader of the group was the one literally responsible for this theft. We agreed that in the morning, we would go to the police with our evidence and make the neighborhood safe again. And that night, we went to bed at police with our evidence and make the neighborhood safe again. And that night, we went to bed at around 11 or 12. Susan slept on the couch, and I of course slept in my room, which was only down the hall from the living room. And shortly after 2am, I could hear the creaking floorboards echoing throughout the hall, which woke me up.

I thought maybe Susan was using the restroom or looking for food, but after a few minutes, there was no mistaking it. The creaking floorboards were absolutely footsteps and they were going back and forth. I got out of bed and made my way to the door. I cracked it open and started to peek through, and I couldn't believe my eyes once I finally adjusted them. It was Susan, and she was holding one of those purses that she had, but it was also a backpack, and she was in one of the drawers in my cabinet and was taking things out and throwing them in the bag. I waited a couple of seconds so I could be sure exactly what she was doing. After a few moments, I finally kicked open the door, confronting Susan. She froze like a deer in headlights. She mumbled something and tried to come up with something to

say, but instead, she used the bag as a weapon and started to swing wildly at my face. And whatever she had in the bag was heavy because I actually was dazed for a second when she struck me. As I finally was coming to, she was already beginning to run out my door. I immediately go to the phone. I call Mr. Thompson, who told us to call him any time of the day or night if we had seen anything. And I told him everything about Susan, even that she actually intended on framing him for these thefts. Now Mr. Thompson immediately contacted the police and provided them with the details that I gave him, and Susan, instead of trying to hide, went over to another neighbor's house. When the police arrived, it didn't take long for them to find her. Upon entering the house, not only did they find the stuff that Susan stole from me in

her bag, but they also found a ton of other things stolen from the community. Instead of denying it, the neighbor who owned the house admitted that he, along with Susan and several others, were responsible for the theft in the community. The Guilty Watch members were arrested and charged with their crimes, and the news of the arrest sent a huge shockwave through our little community. The Guilty Watch members were arrested and charged with their crimes, and the news of the arrest sent a huge shockwave through our little community, but it also brought a huge sense of relief. We had exposed the corruption within our small ranks and restored the integrity of our neighborhood watch. Now in the aftermath of all of this, the neighborhood watch was reconstructed and new measures were put in place to prevent such abuse of power from happening again.

We became even more vigilant than ever and dedicated to ensuring the safety and well-being of our community. And though the events had shaken our trust in one another quite a bit, it also taught us something. It reminded us that it's not enough just to trust our neighbors. We also got to look out and hold each other accountable. So last year I wanted no part of my local neighborhood watch. I already lived in an HOA, which stands for Homeowners Association, and that was already micromanagement enough for me. The HOA can be really ridiculous sometimes and one time they made me hire a construction company to move my shed over two inches because it violated my contract. The shed was in my backyard which was behind a fence which was where I moved in. They said that I could tear it down or move it within the code of the

neighborhood. I could write multiple horror stories about those people, but that's a tale for another day. Needless to say, I didn't get along with my HOA, so I wanted nothing to do with my neighborhood watch committee. I think I even made some comments like I'd rather get robbed than deal with those people. Well, of course, someone heard me, and I got in trouble for that one as well. So why am I telling you a story about the neighborhood watch that we have here, if I wanted nothing to do with it? Well, because as fate would have it, because of the watch, my family and I are safe. Despite the rising number of muggings in our neighborhood, I refused to join the local

neighborhood watch or even give them the light of day. I was always wary of people trying to control my life and the idea of having to patrol the streets at night just didn't appeal to me. I'm a big guy, I hit the gym quite a decent amount and I was confident, if not a little ignorant, that I could handle myself in a confrontation if some robber or mugger was stupid enough to confront me. And besides that, I figured all the chatter and news of muggings in my area was just exaggeration of an isolated event, but my stubbornness came at a cost. So one night as I was walking home from a late shift at work, I worked relatively close to my house and I loved the peace of the calm night walking home.

On that night, I was suddenly surrounded by a group of men. I can't remember exactly how they ended up around me as it happened very quickly or how many men exactly but I do know that it was at least five and they immediately demanded my wallet and phone and I knew better than to argue with them. As I rifled through my pockets I couldn't help but curse myself for not taking the necessary precautions. I'd always thought that I could handle myself, but the reality was that I'm just another victim. My arrogance convinced me that I could take anyone in a fight, but not once did I think about multiple attackers or the fact that

they would actually be carrying a weapon. After they stole my belongings, I received a beating of my lifetime, a beating that I still carry physical and mental scars from. After all this went down, and I was still alive, I couldn't shake off the fear and paranoia that had taken hold of me. I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder shoulder and I started carrying a pocket knife with me every time I went to work and really everywhere I went. One day while I was walking home from the grocery store I saw a man who looked like he was following me. I picked up my pace and he did too. My heart was racing and I could feel the cold sweat on my forehead. I knew that I couldn't outrun him, so I turned around and just confronted him.

He was a tall, burly man with this menacing look on his face. What do you want? I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. He just sneered at me and reached for something in his pocket. And that was all the confirmation I needed. I pulled out my knife and held it in front of me. The man paused for a moment then turned and ran away. I stood there, still shaking from the adrenaline and realized

that I had narrowly avoided another mugging. I couldn't tell if this event was related to the last one since the man was alone and not surrounded by multiple attackers. I ran home and basically had a panic attack for the next couple of hours, remembering all I went through before. That night was miserable, and I couldn't stop shaking. My wife consoled me the best that she could, but I was a mental wreck. I let my dogs out before bed, and within two minutes of them being outside, I could hear them barking ferociously.

I ran outside and in my backyard was the same man from earlier and now he was with two other figures. I was able to wrangle the dogs and get them inside with my wife. As I stood in the doorway, the three people ran at me in a full sprint towards my back door. Even though I slammed the door in his face, they were able to break through the door with very minimal effort. When breaking through the door, he knocked me to the ground. My wife screamed, taking the dogs and ran into the spare room and locked the door. The bigger guy kicked me hard in the ribs while I was still down and trying to get to my feet. After the first big kick, a barrage of kicks started to come in sequence while I lay on the ground. I just closed my eyes and hoped that it would end soon and that my wife would be safe.

I figured if I took the beating, maybe my wife would be spared. Through incoherent yelling and laughing, I heard a grunt and the sound of pain. Before I knew it, the kicks had stopped coming in and the only noise I heard was the commotion of a struggle. I opened my eyes and slowly got to my feet and in the backyard was the leader of my HOA, who happened to be the head of my neighborhood watch. He was out there with six other members of the neighborhood. They had baseball bats and they were taking action into their own hands. After being hit with the bat, the men jumped the fence and fled into the night somewhere. I was able to get to my feet, and I thanked them,

who claimed that they were just doing what any good person would do. He claimed that he had heard me screaming for my dogs, and that my yelling sounded like trouble was imminent and very real so he grabbed all the other neighbors nearby and they ran over as fast as they could and I mean they were literally there within minutes. I couldn't have been more thankful for the help and it was because of this stupid watch that I'm safe and my wife and dogs are unharmed. We called the police and reported everything, but unfortunately I'm not sure they ever caught those specific criminals.

That incident was a wake up call that I needed. I realized that I couldn't rely on luck or my own instincts to keep me safe. I needed to act and do something to actually protect myself. I started to take self defense classes with my wife and I also beefed up security around my house, installing cameras and alarms. I'm not playing any more games. I can say that there have been no reports or incidents that I know of after this attack and I hope to move someday soon but unfortunately it's not a simple luxury that I can afford just yet in my life. I may not like my HOA or the neighborhood watch, but I'm thankful that they were there for me then. Even with my horrible attitude,

these truly are local heroes that have come to my aid, and for that, I'm forever grateful. Think you can handle the heat? Try Quesada's all-new Ghost Pepper Chicken Mole for a limited time. Tender chicken, rich Mexican mole sauce, and then boom, ghost pepper fire. Quesada, real Mexican flavor to the max. Order in-store or online. The End This story dates back to 12 years ago when my husband had to relocate for work and we moved into a brand new house in a brand new town. My husband had just received a long overdue promotion and we were going to be new house in a brand new town. My husband had just received a long overdue promotion and we were going to be moving to a warmer part of the country and needless to say we were both ecstatic. It was a new journey and we were excited to start it

together. We did a lot of research prior to moving, trying to find a house that we loved in a perfect neighborhood. Since we were on somewhat of a tight timeline, we had to go with what we thought were our best options and what our gut was telling us. We ended up getting an acceptance on one of our offers and before we knew it, we were already at our new house unloading boxes and decorating. With my job at the time, I was able to work from home so one of the first rooms that I began working on was my office. In our old house we converted the guest bedroom to an office for me which worked at the time but I was very excited to have a much larger space to work. My husband having only a few days to help with the house before he had to start his new role. I remember him being very excited but also anxious as he

would be overseeing an entire region now. I saw him off on his first day and wished him luck. I took two weeks off from work but I knew that I was going to be logging on to check some emails and review some reports. During the day that I was doing a mixture of cleaning and unpacking when I heard the mail arrive. In our new house we have a mail slot that opened and the mail would just drop onto the floor and boxes would be left outside the door. For some odd reason, I was excited about everything. Even getting the mail made me happy. Most of it was for the previous owner that I set aside to give to the realtor to transfer. One thing that did catch my eye was a colorful little flyer for a neighborhood watch meeting.

It was something that I always wanted in my old neighborhood. The old neighborhood wasn't the best, and my car had been broken into once, and I thought that we would always benefit from one of those neighborhood watch types. I tossed away some junk mail and put the flyer up on the fridge to run by my husband one day after work. The next few days flew by, and I walked by the fridge while my husband and I were enjoying some drinks in the beautiful weather. I grabbed the flyer and brought it out to ask him if he thought it would be a good idea if I joined. He didn't love the idea but I told him it would be a good way to meet some of the neighbors and introduce themselves. He agreed but said that he would be attending the meeting with me and didn't want me going alone.

The meeting location on the flyer was just an address but when we showed up it looked to be a church or a building that used to be a church. We went in and saw a table with donuts, coffee and some other assorted goodies. I was excited to meet some of the neighbors and maybe make some new friends. We were the first ones to arrive, and just as we found a seat, another couple came in. They walked right up to my husband and I and introduced themselves, and for this story, I'll call them Jim and Dorothy. We chit-chatted for a few minutes about where we were coming from, our new house, etc. etc. Eventually, they said, well, why don't we start the meeting and i thought it was weird that

it was only the four of us i asked do you expect anyone else to be joining they looked at one another and said oh uh no the others were busy this weekend but we usually have a very large group this community takes neighborhood watch very seriously The conversation took a weird turn in a hurry. We never really talked about neighborhood watch. They started talking about the building that we were in and its history, saying that it was a place of worship and asking about our own religious beliefs. My husband and I kind of just looked at each other and then I said, I'm not really sure what this has to do with this group and this meeting specifically. They paused for a minute, smiled and said, we just wanted to get to know you better

since we'll be working closely with you in the future. There was an awkward pause and then Dorothy said, you know a lot of people who belong to this neighborhood watch team, they also belong to our church. I can give you some information if you'd like. It's not located here, but it's not that far away either. I could tell by my husband's body language that he was just done. He wasn't thrilled about coming to this meeting and only did it to support me. And I quickly said, you know what? I'm not feeling that well. I think the heat's getting to me and I need to lie down. Jim said, oh, we have somewhere we can lie you down and if you're feeling up to it, we can continue the meeting.

I thanked him but declined and said that I wanted to go home. We hurried to the car and got in and just drove away. On the way home, we asked each other, that was weird right? We weren't just being rude right? My husband said no, it was completely weird and we didn't once talk about the neighborhood watch in almost 30 minutes. The next few days we kind of just put it out of our mind until we got the mail and saw the same exact flyer in another color on the floor next to our mail slot. This time I just kind of crumpled it up and threw it out. A few hours later I had a knock on the door and to our mail slot. This time I just kind of crumpled it up and threw it out. A few hours later I had a knock on the door and it was someone I had never seen before. My husband wasn't home and he always told me to never answer the door when he wasn't home,

mainly due to the habit since our old neighborhood really wasn't that great. But we were in a new neighborhood and a much better one than our previous one so I opened the main door but left the screen door locked. It was a very friendly looking lady with a big smile on her face. She introduced herself and said her name was Jamie. She wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood and invite us to a cookout that they were having on the weekend. I was so excited and thanked her so much and asked what we could bring. She insisted on nothing, so I figured that I would at least bring a bottle of wine or beer or something to share. I couldn't wait for my husband to get home and tell him.

I knew he'd be excited too, as we really didn't know anyone in this state now and we were hoping to make some new friends. The day came and I decided to make some brownies, rice crispy treats and bring a few beers. We were both a little nervous but when we arrived everyone was super gracious and welcoming. Everyone introduced themselves and made us feel extremely welcome. My husband was making small talk about sports and I was just trying to remember people's names. After about half an hour of introductions, we had a seat with about 10 to 15 other people towards the back corner of the backyard. People were asking us questions about our previous town,

our jobs, and how we liked it here thus far. I then told them that I was really excited about the neighborhood watch program, but was kind of creeped out and let down at the meeting. They all kind of looked at each other, and then Jamie spoke up and said, we don't have a neighborhood watch team. The local police monitor this community routinely, and luckily we don't really have many issues. Knock on wood.

Which got a few chuckles from the group. I then asked, well, what about the flyer? Did you all get a flyer in your mailbox? We met Dorothy and Jim. Not only did no one else say that they received a flyer, but no one had heard of a Dorothy or Jim in the neighborhood. Instead of going through the entire story of what happened during that meeting with the group of people, I just brushed it off and said, oh, it must have been something or someone from a town over. Probably my mistake, and then I just quickly changed the subject. The rest of the day was all I could have really asked for. We had a great time, and Jamie is one

of my closest friends to this day. But still, every now and again, I think about that supposed neighborhood watch meeting and who Dorothy and Jim really were and what they wanted. You know, life can take you weird places. Never in my life did I think that I would have a job like I do. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to talk about the things like this without losing my job, so I want to keep the specifics pretty vague. But the gist of what I do is manage a very successful company, and I was a terrible student in high school and a non-existent student in college. It just seemed pointless for somebody like me. I wasn't going to be a doctor, a lawyer, or engineer, so I didn't want to waste the money.

One day, I stumbled into one of the million dead end jobs that I had and met a guy named Steve. I got talking to Steve and found out that he was building this huge company and he'd love for me to check it out. Long story short, I eventually started working for Steve's new company and within a few years I was actually managing it. Life was good and quite honestly, it's still good. This isn't one of those stories with a horrible outcome or a crazy situation where I had to leave my job or something. This is just a weird and borderline scary thing that happened to me a few weeks ago and I thought it would be cool to share it. I try to be as hands-on as possible with my team. I manage

something like 250 people or something like that and and the place operates 24 hours a day, so there are always people in the building. Once a month, I work an overnight shift, just a way that the night people can see me and I can see what goes on when there isn't a manager watching over them. I use this shift to catch up on stacks of paperwork or tasks that I neglected from the previous month. Anybody who's ever worked any type of graveyard hour shift knows that some of the characters can be just that. Characters. I had some great people on my night team, but I also had a lot of strange folks. I had this guy, Leonardo, that would talk about aliens all day, every day. He looked like that guy from the ancient aliens TV show, with the hair and everything. He was a great guy, but incredibly weird.

And this is what I mean when I say that I work with some characters. As cool as it would be to tell you some Leonardo stories, that's not the story that I'm here to tell you today. I want to tell you about the one time that I had a meeting with Angie. Angie was a really sweet woman. She never calls in, always showed up early, and had a really strong work history. For the several years that I had been managing this company, I had never had an issue with Angie. On my overnight shift one month, Angie came into my office and asked if she could talk to me about some stuff. I always have an open door policy, so of course I agreed

to her meeting. Angie was probably in her 60s. She was short and very strong for an older woman. I liked her a lot, mainly because she was quiet, did her job and never bothered anybody. Truly a model employee. At some point during the night, she came into the office and closed the door. The conversation started fine. Typical small talk. I asked how she was doing and stuff like that. Within minutes of the door shutting, she went wild. She started ranting and raving about how it's not fair. I tried to calm the tension and ask her what it was that wasn't fair. In an angry voice, she started shouting in my face,

I used to be on the neighborhood watch. Me. But now I'm too old. Yes, this woman was shouting in the middle of the night in my office about the neighborhood watch. I can't remember if I was smiling or laughing or straight faced, but I extended my hand and calmly told Angie, it's okay. Just take a seat. I'm sure there's some kind of mistake. I'm positive your neighbors would let you be part of the watch. I think anybody can join the neighborhood watch now that I think about it, right? In a poor attempt at a joke, I followed up by saying, and besides, if your neighborhood watch thinks you're too old,

you don't want to be on that committee anyway. I smiled, trying to relieve some of the attention, but instead, the wheels just came completely off. She started screaming at the top of her lungs, I am too old. Now you think I'm too old. I can be on the neighborhood watch. I am good enough. At this point, I figured she was having some sort of breakdown, completely unrelated to me, and I was starting to get out of my element. This woman was hysterical over something I could care less about. Over the ranting of Angie, I tried to shout, Angie? Whatever this neighborhood watch situation is. And that was a big mistake. She became quiet for just a second, and out of nowhere, she dove over my desk, jumped on me.

She started to strike me in the face and scream, You're in on this! I know you are! This is your fault! I managed to get up from my chair and leave the office without hurting this poor woman. I could feel a slight cut over my eye as I made my way to the hall, and luckily we always have security in the building as I made my way to the hall. And luckily, we always have security in the building and they were alerted to the shouting, so they were already a few feet away when I reached the hall. Right away, the security officers had a lot of questions and of course, the authorities were called. When the cops showed up, she was still in my office.

She was throwing stuff around and breaking anything she could get her hands on. I didn't want to press any charges, but unfortunately, Steve did fire Angie. To her credit, she came in a few days later to pick up her final check and she apologized. I guess they're saying the reason for her full meltdown was lack of sleep, but I worry that there may be something else under the surface. Her enraged eyes told me another story, and this wasn't that long ago, but I haven't seen or heard anything about her since the day she apologized. I feel bad for her, but honestly, I hope they let her be a part of whatever neighborhood watch she was a part of.

I'm sure they could use someone as aggressive as her. A few years back, my friends and I rented a house while living it up in our mid-twenties. It was your typical bachelor pad situation. The furniture was questionable at best, and we decided to spend most of our time partying. There were four of us in total in the house, myself and my three friends Jose, Pat, and Richie. Other than Pat, we all worked from home. We all had some version of a simple mundane computer job, something that literally anybody could do. But this was honestly great. We would party all night, roll out of bed, and fill our work days with minimal effort. That was the name of my game back then,

unfortunately. Minimal work, maximum party. And let me just say, I don't abdicate for that lifestyle. I had some great times, but honestly, in the end, more harm than good was done. This is not why I'm writing this story today. Something much stranger happened during this time. Even though I just spent most of the story so far explaining how much I partied, we never got too far out of control. Jose was really responsible and when everything started to get wild, he would start laying down the law and keeping people in line. However, one night Jose was spending the evening out with his girlfriend

so he wasn't around for the party. It just so happens that this party was the most outrageous one to date. Thankfully up to this point we had great neighbors. The houses were further enough apart that you could be at a certain level of loudness and you wouldn't disturb the neighbors. I will say though at this specific party I was starting to get worried. People I didn't even know were starting to show up, and Richie, being the fun-loving guy that he is, just kept inviting everybody in. It wasn't long after the house filled up that fights among guests started to break out. And by midnight, the scene was a full-blown mega-party, something you might actually see on TV or movie or something like that.

And right around this time, there was a pound at the door. Someone yelled from the front room that somebody was at the door. The party was filled with an actual rare silence, hoping that the cops weren't about to bust us, because that was always a fear of ours. I started making my way slowly to the door, ready to sweet-talk my case to the cops in case it was in fact police officers at the door. Right before opening the door, another loud secession of pounding could be heard on the other side. I jogged over to the door and asked who was there, and I was shocked by the response. In a soft female voice, a woman said,

Hi, my name is Liz from the neighborhood watch. I must insist that you break up this party at once. You're violating the sound ordinance. Well, I have to say that I'm not a confrontational person at all. I didn't want any trouble and I definitely didn't want to offend my neighbors and have all the cops called on me. I shouted back to the lady and told her that I would make sure everyone gets out safely and I apologized for the noise. At first, there wasn't really a response. I looked out the window on the front door and I immediately got this weird vibe from the group. It was three people. They looked like two women and one very large guy. The man was wearing a mask, one you might wear to a doctor's office or something like that, and the two women

were not wearing masks but did have hoods on I guess. We lived in this neighborhood for several months to this point and I didn't recognize the neighbors but as I said I didn't want to take any chances, so I obliged what they asked. Within 30 minutes the party dispersed for the most part. Jose still wasn't home at this point. Me, Pat and Richie were just sitting on the couch. Two of our other friends were still there hanging with us since they had too much to drink and we didn't want them driving home.

Maybe an hour or so after the encounter with the watch and another knock could be heard. I approached the door and asked who was there once again. And in the same soft voice, the woman said, Hello, this is the neighborhood watch. We'd like to inform you that you're still in violation of the ordinance. You need to let us in right away so we can give you a written warning and it must be signed by all parties. Now I know this sounds sketchy and most normal people would absolutely not open the door. But at that moment, maybe because I had a few too many drinks, it sounded kind of legitimate. For some reason the fact that it was after 1am didn't compute in my head.

I just wanted to play nicely with the neighbors to show that I was a good sport. As I began to unlock the door, Pat lunged at me and started to yell at me for opening the door. I tried explaining my reasoning with him, and he was trying to explain why I was wrong, but I couldn't seem to get it through my head at the time. While Pat and I had a brief meeting at the door, the woman spoke up again, saying, Are you going to let us in? Pat and I stood in silence for a moment, each one of us still trying to convince the other that our logic was right in the situation. In that brief moment, the larger man finally spoke up,

yelling in a loud voice that almost echoed through the door. Open the door now! Pat and I looked at the door in shock. The doorknob started to shake as if someone was trying to wriggle the door open. Again, the man's loud voice could be heard yelling, Open the door, now! We started to back away from the door, and this is where I finally started to agree with Pat. Richie jumped off the couch and said that he was calling the police.

The knocking stopped, but we could still hear the shuffling outside the door. About a minute later, the woman said, Oh well, have a good night. We ran to the window and saw the three making their way down the street quickly. A few minutes later, Richie said that he was bluffing and he didn't call the police. We contemplated for a little while, but ultimately decided not to call them since a few hours had gone by and supposedly the neighborhood watch never came back and we didn't want to risk dealing with all the alcohol that was lying around. Eventually we fell asleep and nothing of note happened for the rest of the night. The next morning we woke up to Jose screaming and cursing us out as we wandered into the living

room. He had just got home from his night out and was screaming at us about the vandalism. Completely unaware of what he was talking about and also hungover, we asked him to explain. He showed us the front door and I still can't believe it. There were scratch marks carved all up and down the door. It was one of those thick wooden doors, so someone had to have carved it with a knife or something else pretty sharp. Now we had our theories right away about where the marks came from. Jose called the police and we reported the incident. Nothing ever happened again at that house involving this neighborhood watch. I spoke to my neighbors after the incident and they informed me that there is no neighborhood watch, at least nothing official that they know of. I have no idea who those three were or what they wanted, but I'm happy Pat had a brain and forced me not to open the door. One of the craziest events of my childhood occurred not long after I switched elementary schools.

My dad ended up quitting his job when I was nine and we moved across the country so he could set up his own business near San Francisco. Obviously this meant that I'd be starting at a brand new third grade class and let me tell you, I was not fond on the idea. I've always been an introverted kind of guy, and my one prevailing memory of childhood is being painfully shy around new people and places. Making friends didn't come as naturally to me as it did to some other kids, so the idea of having to start all over again was something I remember dreading. Anyway, cut to me in this new third grade class, full of boisterous eight and nine year olds who have known each other for years by that point. I remember feeling tense, like anything I did was going to cause everyone to burst out laughing at me because I'd broken some unknowable taboo to them. I spoke to almost no one, tried to remain

totally invisible, and waited until the opportunity arose to try and make some friends. Then one day, during an indoor recess, this group of three boys decides to start doing karate on the lid of a bug jar. We had these big glass bug jars in class, one that had a bunch of little green bugs in it, I think they were aphids or something, and the other for roly-polies or pill bugs or whatever you want to call them. On this particular day, one of the jars was empty, so being the stupid kids that they were, this one group takes off the red plastic lid that had all these tiny holes in it, and they start punching and kicking it while taking turns holding it up. They were clearly trying to do that thing where the kung fu master

breaks a brick or something with just one kick or punch, but their low strength and the hardness of the plastic meant that it wasn't even budging. I was just watching them for a while, then one of them notices me watching, and I'll always remember this. He asked me, hey new kid, are you strong? I just shrugged in reply then he invited me over to punch the plastic lid to see if I could break it. I didn't really want to do it but you already know what I'm about to say. It was a chance to make friends so if it hurt, it hurt. And it did hurt. A whole lot, actually, and I didn't even give the thing my hardest punch. I was mainly focused on not accidentally punching the kid's finger as he was trying to hold it up for me, because that would almost certainly ruin my chances of ingratiating myself into their group.

The point is, I did it and it kind of worked. The kids seemed impressed at the scratches on my knuckles and how I didn't cry or tell the teacher. They too had little scratches on their fists so it was a real one of us moment, you know. We kicked and punched it some more, stamped on it a little to see if we could do any damage at all, then left it with little white stress marks on the plastic, not broken but definitely damaged. After that they let me sit with them and I knew that I wasn't all the way in there but the smallest bit of acceptance meant the world to me. I was the happiest I'd been since I found out that we were moving but, not minutes later, all that happiness came crashing down, and the least likely person

imaginable was to blame. So I'm sitting there with my potential new friends, trying my best to fit in, but meanwhile, our teacher found the damaged plastic lid and found out who did it in the process. I don't know if she'd spotted us towards the end, or if someone had snitched on us, but either way, she figured out that it was us, and she decided to punish us. But then unlike any other teacher who might put our names on a naughty list, give us a time out, or call our parents to complain, this crazy bee decides to do something else entirely. She has to see our hands and we show her, figuring that she's going to go get the band-aids or whatever. But instead, I swear to God this is true, she tells us that the bugs that had been in that jar were poisonous. And because their poison had gotten into our bodies, we were going to get really, really sick.

As you can imagine, this put the absolute fear of God into us and we start panicking and asking if we're going to die. I don't remember the teacher explicitly saying yes at any point, but she sure as hell didn't give us a straight up no. She kept telling us to calm down and that she'd go get the school nurse. But then in the meantime, we should, and I'm 100% serious with this, write letters to our families just in case anything happened to us. I was 8 years old, and this absolute nutcase made me write a freaking death letter to my mom and dad. I just remember crying. We all cried, and the teacher was out of the room at this point, so kids are asking us what's up and we're telling them that we got poisoned and we might die. I mean, tears were just falling out of our face so all the other kids are legitimately believing us and they're freaking out too. Kids are crying,

trying to keep away from us, running out of the classroom. It was complete chaos. And all the while me and my new friends are sat there trying to find the words to tell our parents that we're dying. It was wild. And because it happened so long ago, it kind of feels like it happened to someone else. But it did happen and as you can probably guess, there were some pretty serious consequences. I remember that we were taken to the principal's office where the vice principal calmed us down, gave us some lollipops and told us that we weren't going to die. In fact, we weren't even going to get sick at all and she was going to get us band-aids for our cuts and scratches. Next thing I know, our parents start arriving to take us home and I remember my dad being really mad about something.

I thought he was just mad at me and I kept telling my parents that I sorry, but I'll never ever forget this part as long as I live. We're in the car, and my dad looks back at me, because he's got his eyes on the road, and he's like, listen buddy, we're not mad at you. We're mad at your teacher. She told you a lie today, and we're very mad about it, okay? I didn't feel much better, so much as I just felt confused and after the confusion went away, I got really mad myself. It'll surprise absolutely no one that the next day that regular teacher of ours had been replaced by a substitute who was replaced by a permanent teacher in turn by the end of the year. I don't know what happened to that old teacher, but I guess that she ended up moving to another town to get a job someplace else. The whole thing was quite a big scandal from what I've heard, so I wouldn't be surprised if she got hounded out of town for scaring people's kids. Now, it's definitely not the scariest story that you've ever been sent.

Like, my life wasn't in danger or anything like that. But to think a teacher would scare a kid like that, getting a lay of the land so to speak, and instantly noticing the psycho weird kid that I didn't want to be around. I mean, no one else wanted to be around him either which was also a pretty good clue but I had no idea how crazy this kid really was. I hadn't been at this new school for a full week when he got expelled and if ever there was something to expel a kid for it was this. So during art class the kid being his usual weird self but not in a feel-sorry-for-him-loner kind of way, the kid just being a total butthole. Anyway, the art teacher

kind of snaps on him and takes away his brush because he's messing up the bristles by just jamming the brush onto the page. Again, not in a cool creative way, in a way that I'm going to be a butthole and wreck your stuff kind of way. So the teacher snatches the brush from him and the kid starts getting mad. He shouts something at the teacher and the teacher shouts something back and then the weird kid curses at her, something pretty harsh too. The teacher responds pretty calm at first and just starts clearing their desk while telling him, you're done, you're done, over and over again. She's clearly stressed out, but she's keeping it together, even with the whole class watching her.

But then the weird kid gets up and stomps off towards the classroom door. We think he's leaving, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes a turn towards the teacher's desk and grabs a pair of scissors. Big scissors. Sharp scissors. There was this audible intake of breath from the whole class as he picked them up, thinking that he was about to charge and start stabbing. But instead, he opens up the scissors so they're almost like a throwing star or something and then just hurls them at the teacher from across the room. The throw is wildly off and the scissors strike a girl in the face while flying through the air. I just remember how there was no blood at first. This girl's cheek was just split open, like you could see all the pink flesh underneath, but for a good few seconds there was no blood.

Then suddenly, there was a lot of it. Way more than I'd ever seen in my entire life, and when the girl saw it on her hands and skirt, she just passed out. The teacher cleared the classroom, the school was put into lockdown, and the cops showed up, then EMTs. It's a scenario a lot of you are depressingly familiar with and we never saw that weird kid again. The girl was okay, just ended up with some pretty cool scar on her cheek I guess. I mean the memory of the whole thing must have been pretty traumatic, but it could have been way worse if those scissors had hit her someplace else. One of the most messed up things I'd ever seen happened in a 6th grade middle school class. I'd just moved to this new town so I had no friends for the first couple of weeks and

I just sort of kept to myself in this class full of absolute lunatics. I mean it too. These kids were nuts. I don't know if it's just because we moved to a crazy town or if there was something in the water, but these kids were absolutely nuts. Worst thing any of them ever did was maybe a week or two after I started in that middle school. This kid was messing around with scissors, like those safety scissors, though putting them to his nose and chin and ears being like, wouldn't it be crazy if I cut them off right now? The kid's just fishing for attention, and that wasn't even the kind of thing that would normally warrant an audience in that class,

so people just shrugged it off and didn't pay him any mind. Then right as he puts the very tip of his tongue to the safety scissors, like right on the blade, this other kid leans in and just claps down on his hand looking back on it most of his tongue probably slipped out of the scissors thanks to the little plastic safety guard but it must have gotten caught right at the tip because the next second snip the next thing i remember there was just blood pouring out of this kid's mouth And he was letting out this just absolute nightmare of a scream A scream is different depending on the shape of your mouth And I guess that kind of goes without saying

But just try it Stick your tongue out Completely out and just make a noise See how much different it sounds Well imagine a scream in that same tone With blood pouring out of what used to be the tip of your tongue. So that image and that sound was literally playing out in my nightmares over and over for months afterwards. Moving to a new school was hard at

the best of times, but you add a little PTSD into the mix and I wouldn't be surprised if I had a few gray hairs by the time I started 7th grade. Right at the end of middle school, my dad's company went under and we went almost completely broke. We had to downsize on almost everything, including our house, and I ended up going to a pretty sketchy high school due to the timing of the move. There were some really nice folks there and some of the teachers really did give a damn about the kids, but they were just wild. The bathrooms smelled like cigarettes 24-7 and the teachers gave up trying to stop kids from smoking in them. There was only one rule, no pot or the cops get called. But other than that, they were like airport smoking lounges these days.

Honestly, your eyes hurt just being in there. The thing that really shocked me was just how disrespectful the kids were to the teachers. This was just when cell phones were starting to get video recording technology and all that kind of stuff, and you could buy one from some baby gangster for like $40 if you wanted one, and that meant that everyone had one. Some kids would literally record themselves saying insanely crazy stuff to the weaker of the teachers, like asking to explain what it meant to toss someone's salad, then laughing when they squirmed trying to talk themselves out of it. They also used these newfangled camera phones to record blurry videos of kids fighting, and my god were

there plenty of opportunities for that. The worst I ever saw was between two 12th grade girls. I don't know what they were fighting over, but it was vicious. One had a bunch of gold hoop earrings in one ear, not the big kind, but smaller ones and multiple in each ear. The other girl got her on the ground, grabbed those hoops and pulled as hard as she could. I'll remember those screams as long as I live. And then the next thing, the girl on top sort of falls off the girl on the ground and when she gets up, the whole vibe of the watching crowd just changed. The girl who's been on top was holding the other girl's ear in her hand, the hoop earring still in her grip.

I don't think she even realized because she actually took a moment to look at it before throwing it down into the ground. You might expect a person to just get out of there if they'd just torn another girl's ear off, but she didn't. The girl started stomping a hole in the girl on the ground like that's what you get. And that was the one time my parents legitimately considered pulling me out of that place in favor of just homeschooling. Knowing that I was exposed to that level of violence and knowing that it was happening all the time, I was actually okay with that at the time. I hated that school, but the principal and school board made a huge deal out of trying to reassure the wider community and I ended up

staying until graduation. I have plenty more crazy stories from that place but that was by far the worst that I saw while I was there. This whole thing went down in a high school boy's restroom, so reader discretion is advised. And although it's not exactly the scariest thing you ever hear, it's most certainly creepy to me. One morning, I had diarrhea. Really bad, and right as I got to school, too. I thought that I managed to get most of it out before first period, but by second period, it was back with a vengeance. I managed to keep it together until just before lunch when I basically ran to the first

floor restroom, which just so happened to be full of special ed kids. They always used to get taken to the bathrooms before anyone else, for reasons that might be obvious to some. Not to talk badly of them or anything, but that's just the way it was. Anyway, I'm kind of terrified to go with these kids around because if my diarrhea makes any noise, they're bound to start laughing and making a big deal out of it, and that's the last thing that I want. I walk into a free stall, then just wait until I hear everyone leaving the bathroom. Then, when it's finally quiet, I drop my pants and go to work. So I was in my stall, doing my thing, thanking God that there's no one around to hear or smell the monstrosity that's coming out of me. And that's when I noticed a slight crack in the stall door.

Not a big one, just enough to get a little light through and how a section seems darker than the rest. And that's when I see it. A single eye staring back at me through the crack in the door. One of the special ed kids had somehow managed to hide from his teacher and stayed in the bathroom, and now he was just standing there, staring at me. As you can imagine, I got a nasty case of stage fright, and any other time I think I'd have just pinched it off and gotten out of there, but I couldn't. This is the kind of poop that you can't just stop pooping, so I had to just look

down, avoid eye contact, and do the best I could. When I walked out, the kid didn't even pretend like he hadn't been staring at me. He just stepped back slightly to let me pass and then kept watching me as I washed my hands and walked out. He was this little skinny ginger kid with glasses and a vacant look on his face. If he hadn't been a special ed kid, maybe I'd have said something, but I was this awful combo of creeped out and just, well, I felt really bad for him. Creepy kid didn't even realize that he was being creepy probably. Remembering having Jim with diarrhea gives me chills, but more so remembering how the special ed student stared at me through the door crack and it makes me wonder what he got up to after I left, you know? Again, I'm not trying to dunk on him or anything here, there are plenty in our school and they were all good kids as far as I could tell.

There was just one, that kid, who always used to creep me out. He continued to stare at me by the way, like whenever he saw me to the point my friends were like, I think he likes you dude. They were just making a silly joke and I've never told them about him staring at me in the stall. If I did they'd have just laughed even harder but if it actually happened to them instead of me, I don't think they would find it so amusing. When I started high school, there was this English teacher slash football coach who stood out to me immediately, and I'll never forget him as long as I live. He was a Vietnam vet, combat medic, big guy too, and said that he was good at it because he was big and strong enough to carry almost anyone in his platoon. He seemed invincible, and we were all kind of scared of him at first, but then realized that he was just a big teddy bear and he fast became our favorite teacher.

Everyone at school knew that he was a Vietnam vet, as he mentioned it in passing sometimes, but not in great detail until we were a few weeks into the semester. I can't quite remember how it came up, but we started talking about the war, and someone asked our teacher what it was like. I remember he leaned back into his chair and just sort of looked at the kid, then at the rest of us in the class and asked us, do you really want to hear this? There were a few muted yeses from around the room and a few other kids just sort of nodded. He goes on to tell us some super gory story about holding some poor soldier's brains in or something. That sort of thing probably happened, but he wasn't about to share it with a bunch of 14 year olds. Instead, he just told us how unfair war was. You could follow all the rules,

be the best soldier you could be, with the shiniest boots and cleanest rifle and you could still end up dead. It was just random, chaotic. You saw men become the worst versions of themselves and sometimes they died for exactly nothing. It wasn't so much what he was saying as the way he was saying it. We all watched this big football coach of a man literally shrink before our eyes, less resigned and more, like, hopeless. There was nothing undoing at all. It was something that he just had to live with. When the bell rang, he composed himself and told us to have a good day. We left, and he never spoke of it again.

I never stood for the Pledge of Allegiance in high school. I don't hate on America or anything, I just thought it was kind of lame, but I did in his class. That flag was not cheap cloth and those words were not hollow phrases to him, so out of respect for the people he tried to save, I stood and did the thing. I still think about him sometimes and I wonder if he's still around. I hope he is. He deserves to have a very long and happy life for some of the stuff that memories of my childhood was starting fresh at this new elementary school. I was desperate to make new friends, and there was this other fairly new girl there too, so naturally we just kind of gravitated towards one another. For the next few days, we sat together,

had lunch together, and we went almost everywhere together. And then one day, we went to computer lab. We walked in and all the computers were sleeping with their black screens and everybody sits down at the same time, moves the mouse and all the screens come to life around at the same time, blinking lights all around the classroom. My friend then looked all panicky for a second. She falls off her chair and then starts shaking with her eyes wide open. It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen.

I thought she was dying, and when all the teacher did was walk over and hold her, I started to freak out. I started screaming about how someone needed to call 911, but none of the other kids moved. I kept screaming at them to do something, but they all just sat there staring at the teacher and my shaking friend and doing nothing. My brand new best friend and I was about to watch her die right in front of me and I just lost it. And that's when the teacher shouts my name, tells me to calm down and tells me that my new friend is just having a fit. I have no idea what that was at the time, nor did I know what epilepsy was when I first heard

the word just hours later. But that's what it was. My new friend was epileptic and, although it was real scary, it was harmless if there was someone there to take care of her, either her parents or a teacher. The girl didn't like talking about it. She thought it made her weird and that people wouldn't like her if they knew. But I still liked her. I thought she was the bravest girl in the world learning to live with something as crazy as that. My sixth grade self remembers vividly watching a classmate's mother burst into the cafeteria one day. She ran straight up to an 8th grade girl eating her lunch while screaming at her, then before we even had a chance to figure out what

was going on, the lady starts dragging the girl by the hair and pounding on her face like she was freaking Khabib or something. We later found out that it was over the girl bullying her son, also a classmate of mine at the time, by teasing him about being a virgin. She'd done this on more than one occasion and had apparently been very explicit about it too from what I'd heard later. One of the nicest lunch aides I'd ever seen ran over and started restraining this woman mid-frenzy and ended up throwing her out of the cafeteria after quite a struggle. Obviously the woman was arrested and matter of fact her out of the cafeteria after quite a struggle. Obviously, the woman was arrested, and matter of fact was still in the cop vehicle hours later in front of the school building when the school day was over.

Kind of crazy story to tell these days since it's not exactly campfire material, but this was back when lockdowns were becoming a big thing, so that made the whole thing super scary to me. I didn't know if this crazy woman had a knife or if she was targeting some random students or just that girl. We all just ran to the edge of the cafeteria and everyone else freaking out made it all that much scarier. This was all in the first week of middle school too, so everyone was on edge for practically the rest of that entire year. When I was ten, there was this boy who had a crush on me, and not just a boy, this kid was a complete and utter psycho. He'd been transferred from another school district for violent behavior.

Not just a school, a whole district of schools, so as you can imagine, I didn't exactly do a cartwheel when I found out that he liked me. At first he wasn't strictly bad to me but he couldn't get over the fact that I didn't want anything to do with him so after a while of almost non-stop whining I finally decided to give him a chance. While I wasn't very nice to be honest at the beginning of the lunch I told him that we could be together then I went to lunch and when the lunch, I told him that we could be together. Then I went to lunch, and when I got back, I told him it wouldn't work out. I was 10, and I just wanted to get rid of him, so I didn't realize how horrible I was. The disturbing thing was that when I quote-unquote broke up with him, he tried to choke me with a jump rope.

I was talking to my friends, and he came from behind and swung the rope around my neck and started pulling it. I couldn't breathe. But luckily my friends got him off me soon enough. And dear God, was that the most disturbing experience I've ever had with other kids. First day of university in September of 2007. Well, not first first day, but first day of lectures. There was an escalator leading up to the student center and I was riding up behind this girl that was texting away on her phone and not really paying attention to what she was doing. And then, out of nowhere, someone at the bottom of the escalator hits the emergency stop button,

apparently just a sort of a prank. This means the escalator comes to a sudden stop, and because the girl in front of me was both unprepared and not holding onto the railing, she fell mouth first into the corner of one of the steps. She was screaming, blood was pouring out of her mouth, and she clearly lost a few of her front teeth, and it looked like her lips were shredded up a bit. The mass amount of blood didn't make that clear. I'm standing over her trying to think of what I can do to help her and in less than 10 seconds she's completely surrounded by people trying to help. Someone slowly helps her up and seats her

on one of the benches. There was nothing left for me to do and already there were like a dozen idiots standing around and gawking at her without really doing anything so I just decided the only thing respectful to do would be to awkwardly just leave the scene. Felt really bad for her though. For high school, I went to a tiny school of less than 200 people. I started my sophomore year there, stayed until graduation. One day we were in band class, which was a small gym building that had been converted so that the rehearsal room was built into it. We couldn't hear the intercom system over the instruments, but my brother got a text from a friend saying, We're in lockdown, why are you

guys still playing? The teacher assured us that it was a drill and told us to practice like normal. Minutes later, someone else gets basically the same text, so we start getting scared and taking things more serious. We got into lockdown position, but I felt like something was super off and it wasn't a drill. I curled into a ball, hiding behind some large instrument cases and started texting everyone I knew in the main building, asking as many questions as I could. A friend texted me saying that there were gunshots heard on campus. A few minutes later she texted again saying that shots had been fired and one student was dead. I remember pushing the cases out of the way and walking into the main class area but my knees wouldn't stop shaking.

All of the other kids were laughing and joking because they thought it was just some drill and I said this isn't a drill. Gunshots were fired and someone's gone. And it got really quiet. I crawled back behind the instrument cases and texted everyone I knew, telling them that I loved them and I was so sorry if I never got to see them again. I was texting my now-fiancee, telling him that I loved him. I'd never felt fear like that before, and I'd never felt anything like it since. I was covering my mouth with my sleeve, preparing myself to hear the gunshots and the sounds of my classmates being taken out,

telling myself that even if I heard screams, I had to be quiet so that they wouldn't find me. Eventually, the lockdown was over and cops busted into the room. They made us dump out our backpacks and take off our jackets and shoes, and then we were escorted out onto buses by officers with these huge guns. We later found out that it was a student who I had just had class with that had taken their own lives in the boys' bathroom, and he was only 14. The guilt I experienced afterwards knowing that if it had been worse, that my classmates

would have died while I was cowering in a closet bus for a living. I get this new kid on the bus and he's seven. His first ride he grabs a girl that was getting off the bus from behind and pretends to cut her throat with his finger. Instant front seat, instant write up. I talk to the principal about it. He tells me boys will be boys. In the third day of this kid riding the bus, he finger guns several students in the back of the head, execution style. Not in a fun way either, in a real angry, clearly hateful way. That was a big

write up this time and again, I take it to the principal. Keep him up front if you need to, he's probably just playing around. I get jealous when I hear about school bus cameras these days. Very jealous. You see, the next day, he does the exact same thing, but this time, the principal very dismissively tells me to just drop it, like it was me who was at fault. I wrote up the kid and the mother effing principal.

This is when the proverbial crap hit the fan. I get pulled up in front of the district transport director, as in my boss's boss's boss. I'm warned that I could lose my job if I escalated things, but I was ready to lose it. I wouldn't be able to say I told you so if he pulled out a real gun one morning, you know? And long story short, there's a compromise. The kid rides the bus, but so does the principal. The first morning he's on there, sat next to the kid, the kid asks him, what do you look like on your insides? They're really close. I hear every word. The principal starts trying to teach the kid biology or something and the kid doesn't want to hear it.

He just wants to know if the principal looked the same on the inside as this hamster did. I'm not even joking. I did everything I could not to slam on the brakes or take my eyes off the road to give the principal a great big I told you so, you mother effer kind of look. The social worker ends up paying the mom a visit and she had a breakdown and says she can't handle it anymore. I know it seems like an understatement at this point, but the kid had problems, big problems, and problems our teachers wouldn't be able to fix. I know he ended up getting transferred to some behavioral school someplace, not sure where. I hope they zapped the bad out of him there,

because the thought of all that hate in a grown man, it just gives me the heebie-jeebies. I used to work at a preschool. We had this kid, we'll call him Billy. He was a nice kid, wouldn't hurt a fly, always thinking of others. And then we get this new kid in the group, we'll call him Billy. He was a nice kid, wouldn't hurt a fly, always thinking of others. And then we get this new kid in the group, we'll call him Bobby. Bobby also seems like a nice kid, but he's painfully shy. Billy being Billy, he goes over to befriend Bobby and show him around. They become fast friends and they start playing together. Bobby's mom comes to pick her up and we're happy to tell her that he's made a friend.

Bobby's mom doesn't seem very interested, but whatever. The next day, Billy and Bobby are playing again. They're laughing, swapping toys, then Billy takes a toy from Bobby, and everything changes. Bobby freaks out and starts choking Billy with both hands. You need to appreciate that four-year-olds don't just choke each other. They pull each other's hair, they hit each other, they throw things at each other. They don't two-hand choke another kid like they're Homer friggin' Simpson.

And that's what we call learned behavior, meaning he'd seen it someplace and he'd seen it a lot. It caused a huge drama in the preschool for obvious reasons, but we also discussed Bobby's home life too. His mom seemed off, and that's putting it gently, so we decided to ask her when she showed up to take him home. Her first reaction was, what did he say? As in, what did Bobby say? We told him he didn't say anything. It's more what he did. She kept apologizing and promising that he wouldn't do it again, but then in the most delicate way possible, we asked about her home life. She told us to mind our own business and left. We later had to ask Bobby's parents to remove him from our preschool on account of no one was cutting his nails. The final straw was when he ended up mauling another kid, leaving bloody cuts down their faces.

I still think about Bobby sometimes and I hope he's okay. But I also know that fairy tale endings are sadly very rare. I used to go to work at a high school with a severe bullying problem. So severe, two psychologists from Stanford came to study it for a semester. It was ingrained and endemic. The worst thing I had first-hand experience with was the case of a 15-year-old boy who transferred from a different school right around the start of spring semester. He'd been getting bullied mercilessly, and we knew that he was an at-risk student, so we tried to do the best we could for him. We suspended one of our main culprits and gave another a bunch of detentions to keep him out

of the way during opportune times, but we couldn't stop everyone. The new kid just wasn't ready for it, and the kids at our school showed him no mercy at all. He cracked in about a week. The Monday after he first started, he waits until everyone is in the cafeteria, then walks in, puts on what looked like a very wet jacket, and then set himself on fire. It wasn't water. It was white spirit. My co-workers found the bottle outside the cafeteria afterwards. One of the cafeteria ladies rushed in with the fire extinguisher really quick and I think he only burned for about a matter of seconds and I remember thinking that he might be okay, but he was not okay.

The jacket had melted into his skin, meaning the burns were way worse than they might have been if he'd used a different kind of jacket. I figured he'd pull through, but he died the next morning. School was closed for the whole rest of the week, so the kids didn't find out until the following Monday. But us faculty found out almost right away, and it was on the news not long after we announced the kids' death to the students. They were shocked, and a lot of lip service was paid to changing the school's culture of bullying and fighting, but it was just that, lip service, and nothing was ever really done about it other than give a few special classes on reporting incidents of bullying. Reports went up, but bullying stayed the same.

Sometimes I find myself missing being a teacher, especially during the summer. But then I remember how some kids treated each other and I don't miss it so much anymore. more. Many years ago on my first day working in a new elementary school, I saw two first graders playing a game you could roughly call pets. They were taking turns being the pet and the owner, all very innocently at first, but then one kid decides to try and use his scarf as a leash and ties it around the other kid's neck. I didn't see that part and turned around right around the same time the kid was turning blue. And that's the scariest part about working with little kids.

They keep almost ending their own lives, or their peers, and they never understand just how close to death they really are. It's always the wobbliest toddlers who try and climb furniture too. You can't take your eyes off of them for even a second or the next thing you'll hear is thud and screaming. I used to teach in the inner city. I lasted a year in my first job, then moved someplace else. The kids in my new school made the kids at the old place look like angels in comparison. I had a kid who had some serious anger management issues. She'd cuss me out, threaten me.

She was a constant problem. She actually wrote me a note this one time and just left it on my desk. It said that she wanted to slit my throat and how it'd be worth going to jail for. I was told by administration that since she's being treated for ongoing behavioral problems that I should be patient with her. So I was. Everyone was. Until we found her in a fit of rage, strangling her mother and smashing her mother's face into the steering wheel of her car one day after school. And that's what it took to get rid of her, viciously assaulting her own mother on camera. And if she was able to turn on her own mom like that,

I think she was more than capable of making good on her threats to me. Another student was desperate for cash that one of my fellow teachers found herself at knife point in her own classroom. The kid took her purse, phone, and keys. The cops chased the kid down, but he wrecked her car and almost ended his own life in the process. But so much for zero tolerance policy. He was suspended for a month and was sat back in row two of the classroom once he recovered. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw that he'd

come back that first time. I thought that there must have been some kind of mistake, but there was no mistake. I noped out of that school district and that career after that. I grew up in a military family which, as any barrack brat will tell you, means we moved around a few times while I was a kid. The second time was the summer between 7th and 8th grade, and it sucked so much harder than the first. I guess things are easier when you're in single-digit ages, but at that age, moving away from all my friends hit me that much harder. We'd known each other all throughout elementary school and then through most of middle school too, and we were mostly set to all graduate high school together as well. So as you can probably guess, moving across the country and having to start all over again was not my idea of a fun summer. When it finally came time to starting school,

I didn't know anyone, while everyone else had known each other for two years. Needless to say, I felt like a real outsider, and even worse, I was being treated like one too. Pick a reason, kids found a reason not to like me for it. It was a real clicky ninth grade, and I wasn't getting into any of them anytime soon. And that's why when someone finally did throw me a bone, I was incredibly grateful and relieved. His name was Todd and he had also been a transfer student just the previous year. He said he'd been through the same cold shoulder treatment that I had, but that it was cool because who'd want to be friends with people like that

anyways? Todd seemed to have a reputation as being a weirdo, loner type, but people were probably saying that about me too, so it just made sense to hang out with him if he was offering friendship. Not to say he wasn't kind of weird, he really was. He talked about all sorts of crazy grown-up sounding stuff that honestly got really boring sometimes, but he definitely wasn't a loner. He wanted to hang out every chance we got, and as much as we weren't the best of friends, hanging out with Todd definitely beat being alone all the time. After all, being alone made you a

major target for bullies and safety in numbers and all that. At first, hanging out with Todd was just something I did at school, and we never saw each other outside of it. But after a while, Todd asked if I wanted to hang out at a local arcade with him. I always wanted to go to the arcade, but I was scared to go alone, and going with Todd formed a solid friendship in no time at all. I used to get a few bucks from my mom in cash and quarters, but then Todd would always share some of his money too. We used to play that time crisis game, the one two people could play at once, and since it was more fun to play with a partner, he'd always share a couple of bucks with me so I could carry on playing way after I'd normally have just failed. We started hanging out a lot after that, mostly

in the arcade, but sometimes at other spots in the same mall the arcade was in. One Saturday, while we were getting some lunch at a Burger King, Todd mentioned having another friend in town that he hadn't told me about yet. I correctly assumed that they didn't go to our school, but I also assumed that they'd be around our age and similar in personality to Todd. But then the more I talked to Todd about his friend, the more he sounded kind of off. Then he mentioned how his friend would give him a ride places, and I was like, how old is this kid? Todd's friend wasn't a kid at all. He was 28. At least Todd thought so. And he had his own house somehow. Not his mom and dad's place where he lived in the basement or whatever, he had his own place.

I asked why a guy in his 20s, late 20s, wanted to hang out with a couple of 13-year-old kids, and Todd just told me something along the lines of, I don't know, he's just cool, I guess. Todd then made me promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell me, and when I did, he leaned across the table and said, he'll give us beer. I'd never really thought about drinking or something or anything like that before but when I asked Todd, he told me beer was just about the best thing a person could drink. He said it tasted a little funny at first but then the more you

drank, the better you feel. I knew my dad and uncle enjoyed a few beers whenever he was over, and they'd always seem to laugh a lot whenever they drank, so why not try it for ourselves? The following weekend, we agreed to meet up at the mall before heading over to this guy's place. His name was Matt. Looking back on it, I don't think I really believed Todd had an older friend like that, especially one who'd risk getting into trouble with the law by giving kids like us beer. But the only way to know if he was lying or not would be to agree to see it for myself.

Again, Todd makes me promise to keep the whole thing a secret, but once we met up at the mall, he almost immediately walks me out to a bus stop, and we catch the first one that comes along. Todd seemed really excited to introduce me to Matt, and as much as there was still a chance that it was all just a bunch of nonsense, it was looking more and more likely by the second. We get off this bus in this endless, identical-looking suburban sprawl of sorts, you know, walk a few minutes, and then we come to this one sketchy looking house. Or rather, it wasn't sketchy looking, so much as it just looked like kind of crummy and not as well looked after as the other houses.

We walked up the driveway, rang the doorbell, then this guy answers the door. Todd says, hey Matt, this is the kid I was telling you about. I didn't say anything, but I was kind of amazed. Like I said, I actually thought that he just made this whole thing up, or at the very least, exaggerated his friendship with the guy. But nope, he'd been telling the truth the whole time, and he proved it when he casually asked Matt for a beer for me and him, and Matt said sure. We went and sat on the couch in front of the TV, and I remember there being some baseball highlights on or something. Matt then said that he wanted to go take a shower, and we were welcome to make ourselves at home. I thought it was the most disgusting thing I'd ever tasted in my entire life, and passing the can to Todd for him to finish it. I figured that he'd be happy to have more beer since he clearly enjoyed it so much, but to my

surprise he reacted in almost the opposite way. He seemed disappointed I didn't like it and kept pushing me to give it another try and push past the initial bad taste. Looking back, he was obviously trying to get me drunk, but at the time, I had no idea why he might want to do that. A few minutes go by and I hear Matt's voice from upstairs calling out for Todd. Todd goes to talk to him for a second and then comes back to ask if I mind being on my own for a while because he has to go help Matt with something. I told him it was fine, but that I might just leave if it was all the same to him. I told him the beer had made me feel like I was going to barf, but really I was just getting really bad vibes and I wanted to go home.

Matt asked me to stay, then begged me to stay, and I knew something was wrong from the way he was acting. It took me a while, but I managed to get back home by taking buses across town, and when I did, I told my dad about what had happened in Matt's house. I remember choking up and almost crying because I didn't know how to communicate it, but something was very wrong in that place, I just didn't know what. I knew it had something to do with the beers, and I knew it was wrong for us to have been given them, so much as it had made me feel like a tattletale I told my dad where the house was and we drove over there. Once he was sure of the house, we drive to the nearest payphone and just call the cops

then drive back to the house to watch what had happened. Dad wanted to watch the guy getting busted and I needed to be there to point him out, so we drove back. The cops arrive, they knock on the door, and I kid you not, no one answers. One of the cops then peers through a crack in one of the curtains, then they both run around back while screaming, Police! Police! Stop what you're doing! I don't know what was going on there, but I didn't see Todd at school anymore. In fact, I didn't see him ever again, and I think it truly had something to do with what Matt was doing, and the fact that he was now going to jail for a long, long time. My mother was stationed at Kadena Air Force Base around the late 2010s, and being a military child at the age of 12, my life had reset once again.

I didn't have friends again, and I had to learn an entire new neighborhood. I didn't really have anything that made me ecstatic. That is, except the Pokemon League held on base. It was ran by a few people who earned their judge cards from Nintendo and held tournaments and just open game nights. It was really fun picking up the card game and they even had a small gym and elite force system. I made a lot of friends and one of them was one of the judges, who I am thankful still to this day. Because if it wasn't for him, I may not be here right now.

The judge in question, who we will call Professor Getsu for the sake of anonymity, was a nice dude. He was the youngest of three and wore a white professor getup. He looked maybe on the edge of his teens, early twenties, with dark hair and glasses and a skinny frame. He was extremely helpful to newcomers, sort of like the big brother we could all look up to and strive to beat in our children's cars and video games, even if his game name of Getsu was a bit nerdy even for me. He was always one of the last people to leave, help to clean up, and he supposedly lived nearby. This last thing is important for what's about to happen. It was a bit of a colder night when the event ended. I was sitting outside

in the parking lot, scrolling through memes my friends texted me as I waited for my parents to arrive to pick me up. I was just kind of zoning out as the time clicked by when I heard someone nearby. Hey, hey girly, you play Pokemon? I would look up at some really big dude, kinda chubby looking. I saw him every now and then, the events, and he didn't really stand out too much. I give him a small nod and said, yeah I do, as he gives me this wide smile. He starts walking forward and I'm hit with this nasty stench, like bad body odor. I blink a bit as I see that he's walking from a black sedan with its back door open. I got this cool card collection. Come here, let me show you. Now my parents have always taught me about stranger danger, but my kid brain thought, hey, he went to events and I've seen him there, so he should be fine.

At least so I thought. Until he grabbed my wrist and started to drag me to the sedan. To say that I immediately started screaming is an understatement. Stinky didn't care though. He was still dragging me, saying how I'll have fun and throwing out things about trading cards like someone listening would think that he was dealing with a whiny kid. I also thought that I was going to be taken and would never see my mom and dad again, like being on the back of a milk carton and disappearing forever.

Silly I know, but I was sheltered about dying and death at that time. Thankfully, Professor Getsu walked out at that very moment, presumably on his way home. All I know is I heard the sound of fabric hitting the guy's face as the professor swung his professor coat right into it. I felt his hand go to where the guy was grabbing my arm and I saw his hand grab Stinky's pinky finger and yank back. Stinky let go and yowled like an animal as Professor pushed me back behind him while he pulled his coat off the guy. Then he kicked the back of the guy's knees, causing him to buckle and grabbed his wrists, pulling back on them. Stinky groaned in even more pain as Professor looked at him

with a cold look in his eyes. The big brother figure was gone, replaced by something else and I think I was a bit scared of it. Professor's tone of voice when he spoke didn't help either. His words lingered like icy daggers against Stinky. If I see you back here doing this to my charges, what Japanese prisons will do to you will pale in comparison. Stinky scrambled away, got into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. The professor glared at him until he was out of sight. Then he guided me inside the venue, bought me some fish and chips, and sat down with me until my parents arrived. That cold persona that he had when he confronted that

guy was gone and he was back to being the big brother that I knew. To be frank, it frightened me. I didn't quite understand why the teenager was so aggressive. I only later learned that Professor Getsu was a black belt who taught kids how to defend themselves with his mother at the local activity center. I suspect that he had a protective persona and something in his own life led him to act that way. He explained the situation to my folks when they arrived. I wasn't allowed to attend the events and league as often as I used to, but I still did from time to time. Professor Getsu continued to be his normal self at the events, helping people, but he stopped coming a year later when his license expired and his father moved out of the country.

Being around the same age as he was, and now with a younger sibling of my own, I sympathize with how, for a brief moment, he became something terrifying just to ensure my safety. As for Stinky, he never showed up to the events again. He was either banned or simply scared of Professor Getsu. I wish the professor a good life and hope he's doing well. As for Stinky, I hope you get some help. My dad and I were never very close. I wasn't close to anyone from his side of the family, and his two younger brothers set off every internal alarm I had. Uncle 1 turned out to be touching his stepdaughter who he raised since she was an infant. Uncle 2, who this post is about, I'll call him D. I have several siblings, and we have many cousins

living in our small town. They all think D is the best, lots of fun to be around. I never warmed up to him. I didn't trust him and he just had this creepy vibe. I kept my distance and my mom never made me hug or have physical contact with anyone I was leery of. D lived next door to him and grandma and seemed to always be down with some kind of illness. I was staying with grandma for the day and she was making food for D because he was sick. She fixes him a plate and tells me to take it over. I'm not happy about it but I know better than to disobey so I take the food next door. I walk in the door and he yells out and says bring it back there. I walk into his bedroom and set the plate

on the wardrobe by the foot of the bed. D says he can't reach it there and to put it on the nightstand next to the bed. I take it and set it on the nightstand and D grabs my arm. I panic and pull away trying to get loose of him. He's pulling me towards him and I brace my foot against the nightstand and resist and saying let me go and he responds, I just want to talk to youstand and resist and saying let me go and he responds I just want to talk to you. I just say to let me go. I'm ready to detach that hand if necessary and he finally lets go. I bolted out of the house but said nothing to grandma. Later that evening I tell my cousin and she says I'm stupid. He doesn't know why I'm the only kid that doesn't like him and he just wanted to talk to me.

I should feel terrible about thinking that he was trying to pull me into his bed. What a terrible thing to say. I didn't mention it to anyone else and began to question if I was wrong and just reacted badly. I felt guilty for a long time but still stayed away from him. As I've gotten older and look back, I think my reaction was correct. What adult tries to get a kid to warm up to them by grabbing them and pulling them towards a bed? What adult continues to do this when they can see the child is terrified? You get a child to warm up to you by terrifying them? No. Adults with good

intentions don't do these things. We were obedient children. If he would have said, wait, I want to talk to you, I would have obeyed. D passed several years ago and there were rumors of inappropriate behavior with young girls, but nothing more than rumors. But I still believe that I read that situation correctly. Back when I was in college in Texas, my roommates and I decided to drive to Boulder, Colorado for spring break. To maximize our time in Boulder, we decided to take shifts and drive all the way through rather than stopping for overnight stays. It was roughly an 18-hour trip. So I'm driving my shift when we reach the Texas panhandle in the early morning hours.

We're out in the middle of nowhere and have not seen a single car in either direction for ages when we notice headlights behind us. The car came up to us quickly, then followed behind us for some time. Oddly, it would get real close to us and then back off real far and then get close to us again. This pattern continued for several miles. We're in the car nervously joking about it being a potential deliverance situation set in Texas flatland. Suddenly the headlights are joined by red and blue police lights. It was so dark out there that we had not seen the light bar on the hood and had not realized that we were being followed by a cop. I check my speedometer, and I'm not speeding, so we're all wondering why we're getting pulled over,

but I go ahead and pull to the shoulder. Up comes a cop wearing a cowboy hat to my window. He shines his light in the car and looks us over, then asks me to get out of the car. I hesitate at first, but there are three other people in the car so I'm not feeling particularly unsafe at this point. I grab my wallet, get out, and stand against the driver door. The cop looks at my license and insurance and then tells me he's going to do a sobriety test. I'm thinking, what? But I know that I've had nothing to drink, so I say okay. The way the cop directed me for the walking in a straight line test had me ending my walk right by his car. When I finished, he reached over to open his back passenger door and then told me to get in.

What? Why? Sit in the car while I look up your license. Now, I had heard how doors on the back of a cop car only open from the outside, so I know if I get in that car and he closes the door, I won't be able to get out. It's like three in the morning, pitch black darkness, on a road dozens of miles from any civilization. I'm not getting in that car. I'm sorry, sir, but with all due respect and for my own safety, I'm not getting into the back of your car. What did you say to me? Me, repeating what I said. For my own safety and with all due respect, I'm not sitting in the back of your car.

You can call another officer to come out here, but I do not feel safe getting in your car. Do you realize I could arrest you right now for not obeying an order from a police officer? Again, sir, I'm not meaning to be disrespectful. I'm just not getting in your car. We go back and forth like this for several minutes, him threatening to arrest me, my friends holding us overnight, etc, etc, and me refusing to get in his car. The cop then leers at me and asks, what? Are you afraid of being kidnapped? What? How do you even ask that? I glance towards my car and see my friends piled up at the back

window watching, the two guys looking ready to jump out. The cop turns to look at them too. I don't know what went through his mind, but after being completely aggressive with me for what seemed forever, he finally gave me this creepy smile, handed me back my license and insurance, tipped his hat, and then got into the car and drove off. At this point, I was shaking so badly that my friends had to help me get back in the car. I don't even remember if he gave me a ticket. I was so glad that I had not cried in front of this idiot, but I totally broke down once in the back seat. To this day, I think about this freak deciding to terrorize a young college female at 3am in the middle of rural Texas, and I often wonder what would

have happened if I had not stood my ground and, instead, gotten into that cop car. To be continued... share it here. The year was 2018 and me and three other friends, we were all males in our early 20s, decided to travel to Bali for about a week since it was cheap and we had time, so why not? Our itinerary included sightseeing, trying local foods, mountain climbing, visiting bars at the beach, basically a typical vacation in Indonesia. It was honestly quite a surreal experience. The country is absolutely beautiful and the food was amazing. The only issue I had about the trip were the locals. Drugs were really prominent there, especially mushrooms. The streets were filled with druggies dying to sell us drugs. I'm not exaggerating when I say this. One dude even grabbed my arm because I ignored his two for one deal for a one-way trip to meet Jesus, as he put it. I shrugged him off while my friends laughed

it off, suggesting that I may be passing up a chance to meet our Lord and Savior. He looked rabid and frantic, like he was about to pounce on me, like a dog diagnosed with rabies. I didn't feel too afraid, as we were confident that we could handle them since half of them were not even sober. However, that is only the tip of the iceberg. The horror starts when we went back to our Airbnb for the night. We had an early day the next morning and were exhausted. The place was extremely cheap and it didn't even have a proper locking mechanism for the door. It had two wooden doors which swing inwards and the only way to lock them was to wedge a wooden block through the holes

mounted on the door. It was quite a primitive lock but it gets the job done I guess. Everything was going well until the last night of our trip when we realized that the wooden block was missing. We looked everywhere but to no avail. I just figured that one of us must have misplaced it somewhere. We settled for using a selfie stick. I know it sounds like a horrible idea. Instead, since we didn't have anything that fits the holes to wedge the door closed, we turned in for the night, seemingly not expecting anything since we had already stayed there for six days with no issues. I woke up to strange clicking sounds in the dead of the night.

I got out of bed and I thought maybe it's one of the guys so I nonchalantly approached the noise. My friends were all sleeping so I decided to investigate the cause of this noise. The ruckus seemed to be coming from the door so I headed towards them feeling extremely confused. Who would be at our doorstep at this time of the night? I noticed the doors were slightly open and the selfie stick was horribly deformed. I peeked outside and I saw three people staring through the gap between the doors. They were really close to the entrance and were attempting to push the doors open. I yelled at them, questioning their intentions as I noticed one of them was holding the wooden block. I was shocked and puzzled at the situation as I recognized one of the men.

He did the overall cleaning for the Airbnbs and pathways during the day so there is no reason for him to be there at 3am. The other dude asked if the wooden block belonged to us as they allegedly found it outside of our Airbnb. I definitely smelled some BS as there was absolutely no reason to do that in the middle of the night. I called for my guys and the three men immediately ran for it. I clue in the guys on the circumstances and we stayed up until the morning in case they tried anything funny again. We decided to report to reception about their employee but the descriptions I gave them were not synonymous with theirs. They told me the housekeepers they hired consisted of only females in their late 30s and 40s.

This sent shivers down our spines as we came to realize that we had let a complete imposter in and out of our rooms while we were out. Luckily, nothing important was lost and we got out of the situation safely. I can't imagine what would have happened if I didn't wake up that night as the doors were close to being opened. I was just grateful that it was our last night there. This was a good six months back. My girlfriend was staying at her parents, so I, a 27-year-old male, was at the flat alone. At around 3 in the morning, I'm woken up by a loud slam. I quickly jolt up. My bedroom door is wide open and I see a bald man walk straight past my room and into the living room.

I must have forgotten to lock the front door that night. I jumped out of bed and immediately my mind made the decision to just stand in front of the front door. I figured there's only one way out and if he's taken anything I can try and stop him. In my haste, I'd also made the subconscious decision not to put any clothes on so I could get to the door quicker, so I was standing there completely naked. Not important to the story, just semi-amusing. Anyways, the dude comes stumbling back to the door, has a handful of loose cans of Stella Artois cradled in his arms, a half-smoked cigarette in his mouth, and a plastic shoppingoked cigarette in his mouth and a plastic shopping bag hanging from one of his hands. I asked what he was doing in my flat to which he replied,

I'm really sorry, I'm so sorry. Though he could hardly get his words out, he was clearly absolutely messed up. I asked him to show me the contents of his bag, which didn't have any of our stuff in, before proceeding to let him out of the flat, locking the door this time. I'm assuming that he was just out of his mind on whatever he had taken and walked into the wrong flat. One funny detail, there was a point where one of the cans slipped out from his grip and he had to bend down to pick it up, making him directly eye level with my bare waist. It was a very awkward moment and I'm sure the poor guy doesn't remember so hasn't completely been scarred. But anyway,

I got back into bed and could hardly sleep the rest of the night, my heart absolutely thumping. I will say, it gave me some confidence in my fight or flight response. You never really know what you'll be like in this sort of situation and I was quite proud after the fact that I blocked his exit. I'm perhaps not the most masculine of men so that was some nice affirmation. It's a completely true story by the way and one of the most terrifying moments of my life, seeing a stranger casually stroll into my living room in the dead of the night while I'm naked. My mom was born and raised in the high country of East Central Montana. She came from ranching people and her father, my grandfather, was a genuine cowboy.

He often worked around the ranch with her, so not much shakes her to her soul. Except for what happened when she had to run into town when I was only 8 months old. This incident occurred in the middle of a sunny summer day. The ranch where she was raised was nearly 2 hours away from the nearest town. To reach the ranch, one had to drive north on a highway for about 30 minutes, followed by a 45 minute drive on a dirt road across the Montana High Country. I emphasize this because it highlights not only the remote location she lived in at the time, but also why the story becomes so disturbing. My mom had to go to town to buy groceries and baby supplies for me.

While driving back to the ranch on the long and isolated dirt road, she reached into her purse on the passenger seat to retrieve something. Unfortunately, it slipped out of her hand and fell into the passenger footwell. Naturally, she had to stop the car to safely retrieve the item, and after grabbing it and sitting back up, she glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a man about a hundred feet behind the car running toward her. Without hesitation, she immediately put the car back into gear and fled. As she checked on me in the car seat, making sure that I was okay, she saw the man give up the pursuit and disappear into the ditch to hide. Upon arriving home, she shared what happened with her parents, my grandparents, and they were

stunned. And here's where it becomes psychologically disturbing. Throughout the entire journey on the dirt road, my mom didn't encounter any parked cars or trucks, nor did she see any people walking alongside the highway or dirt road. This raises even more questions. How did the man get out there? Why was he there? And even more unsettling, what could he have done to my mom or to an eight-month-old like me? The more I thought about it, the more disturbing it became, my mom would say. I've only asked my mom about this story twice. After the second time, she asked me never to bring it up again, and I fully understand why. It disturbs me just to think about it so I can only imagine how she felt having directly experienced it. Firstly, this incident occurred in a remote area of

Montana high country far away from any populated areas. It's an open grassland with low rolling hills where the only signs of human activity are fence posts and perhaps a windmill or an old abandoned barn or house. I highlight this because some comments suggest that my mom should have simply called the police. Well, there's no police out there in the Montana high country. They exist in the small towns where she went for groceries, but good luck finding assistance out in that remote area. That's why people who live there often carry firearms to handle unexpected situations on the spot. Interpret that as you will. And secondly, some comments point out the interesting coincidence of my mom stopping her car near the spot where the man was

hiding. Again, strange things happen out in the middle of nowhere and coincidences occur. Who knows why that man was there? Rural Montana is not a place where people casually hang out. Unless you live there, know someone who lives there, or have business with someone there, you shouldn't be going there for any reason. Furthermore, my mom didn't encounter anyone walking on the highway or the dirt road, nor did she see any parked vehicles along the side. If someone managed to reach that far on foot, there's no one you should be interacting with. Back then, my mom was a small 19-year-old woman with her 8-month-old infant in the back seat when this happened. I highly doubt that she could have been of any help to him. We will never know why this guy was out there and frankly,

I don't think that we ever want to. I'm a petite, pale female. I'm 22 and I've got quite messy hair. I was wearing loose white clothes. You might guess where I'm heading. Outside, sitting in a chair in my front yard. I was smoking. Let me mention that I live in the countryside with fields and forests leading from my street. Nights here have a unique vibe if you catch my drift. The sky presents magnificent masterpieces for our starry eyes. So I was completely absorbed in the sky then I stood up to take a picture. I wanted to capture it to reproduce through painting. However, my disappointment grew when I realized my camera was very inadequate.

Therefore, I decided to go inside and grab one of my parents' phones since they had better quality. While attempting to take some pictures, I felt someone's gaze on me. It was my new neighbor, staring at me from her house, which was just across from the front garden. I had been waiting waiting taking advantage of the automatic light in my yard that flashes with any movement and lasts for about 20 seconds an important detail and thus i was only visible for a brief moment and then it was pitch dark again there are no street lights where i live so i felt relieved thinking i was invisible in that moment as i continued to capture mesmerizing

shots, the flash in the phone that I was holding unexpectedly illuminated. The moon was positioned right beside her house, making it appear as though I was photographing her home. I heard her scream, so I quickly covered the flashlight and turned it off. I was petrified, uncertain about the best course of action. Should I A. Immediately flee to my house, risking reactivating the flash and looking suspicious? B. Confront her, taking the opportunity to explain the situation while also initiating our first conversation, as I had unintentionally scared her on previous occasions, which I'll explain later, or C. Disappear into the darkness and wait. Okay, let me explain. I'm a night owl who loves art. It's not uncommon to find me outside, right in front of my house or in the middle of the driveway, taking pictures,

smoking, or simply contemplating even past midnight. So I had unintentionally startled her multiple times. I know this because she referred to me as the weird neighbor to someone. One day, I was playing with my cat in the front yard using a red laser light, late at night of course. Accidentally, the laser beam landed on one of her windows, causing a flashy red light point to appear. She screamed, turned on the lights in the room, and when I glanced at her, she looked back at me and then closed the curtains. Now back to the story, I decided to stay put and wait. It occurred to me that I should continue taking pictures.

I could hear loud voices as the front door opened, followed by slow footsteps moving toward their car and whispers. What should I do? I took one last picture and headed back to my house. Just as the flash went off, I was petting my cat and that's when I heard her say, again, that weird chick. Once I closed the door, I burst out laughing. Was it a nervous reaction? Perhaps. I need to find a way to talk to her and reassure her that I'm harmless or maybe I should just embrace being the eccentric neighbor. I want to start by saying that this might be a little out of order as it happened over 10 years ago, and it's a bit vague in my memory now. However, everything I'm about to share is completely true, and after reading so many posts on this thread, I knew I wanted to share my story. My grandma lives in the worst part of our town, plagued by shootings and drug activity. Despite the neighborhood's dangers, I always felt safe

and protected at my grandma's house where I spent most of my childhood. Even now at 81 years old, she still resides there. My cousin, who was a year older than me, and I would frequently visit my grandma's house and she would babysit us. At the ages of four to six, we were just beginning to build our friendship. Our mothers would go to work and since we couldn't stay home alone, we would stay at my grandma's. I don't recall the exact frequency of our visits, but we spent enough time there. Occasionally my grandma had to run errands and during those times she would have her neighbor, an elderly woman whom we'll refer to as N, come over and stay with us for a short while. N and my grandma were friends so

she would sometimes visit even when my grandma was home. She would play with us and she was always sweet and kind. She never made me feel uncomfortable or acted inappropriately. My grandma trusted and adored her. Now fast forward a few years, my cousin and I were around 9 to 12 years old and my grandma started having us stay overnight for a few nights. It was the best part of my childhood. We could stay up late, eat whatever we wanted, listen to loud music, and play video games. We were well aware of the neighborhood's dangers, so we always kept the doors locked and the curtains remained closed at night. N lived in the house on the left of my grandma's, while a new

person, who we'll call C, moved in on the right. I remember my grandma warning us to stay away from him, describing him as a bad person and a child predator. When my mom dropped me off at my grandma's, I would see him sitting on his porch. I remember he wore an ankle monitor as if he were on house arrest or something. And this is the part that creeps me out. The first time I saw C after my grandma's warning, I tried to look away, but his face is forever engraved in my mind as resembling the sloth character from the Goonies. Now that I'm older, I understand that my childlike

mind may have distorted his appearance, but I am absolutely certain that he had a deformed face. He had slightly longer brown hair, one eye placed higher than the other and a bulging forehead. He walked and spoke oddly with a low, grumpy voice like sloth. Needless to say, I was terrified of him and his appearance, even at that young age. I had a keen sense of danger and knew to avoid certain people, thankfully. As I mentioned earlier, I would hide behind my mom whenever she walked me to my grandma's house. Sometimes C would greet us with a friendly, Hey, how are you guys today?

But we never acknowledged him. When my grandma came out onto the porch, she would politely greet her, but she completely ignored him and my cousin and I followed suit. One time we were playing in the backyard when C came outside and we immediately rushed indoors. I felt sad that we had to live in fear and completely avoid this person instead of enjoying our normal lives. Whatever C did was probably worse than what my grandma just told us. She gave us a basic rundown saying he touched little kids and did bad stuff with them. And now that we're older, we can fill in the blanks to some extent. At that time, we were around 12 years old, and somehow N and C had become close.

Later, I found out that N was a religious fanatic and started taking C to church. It was strange how they started hanging out together. N was at least 65 years old, while C was only in his 40s, which seemed odd given the circumstances. Once my grandma learned about their spending time together, she unfriended N and prevented her from seeing us. N would call my grandma and insist that C has changed, he's a different person now. However, my grandma wanted nothing to do with it and refused to let us be near someone who associated with the child predator. At some point, N called my grandma again, attempting to have a normal conversation. She asked if she could have recent pictures of me and my cousin from school to display in her house.

I assumed that she had already had old pictures of us when we were much younger and wanted more up-to-date ones now that we were almost in middle school. My grandma firmly declined, citing C's frequent visits to N's house. She also requested that N return the pictures that she already had. Then, N and C got married. N even called my grandma to ask for her permission, but she completely disagreed and couldn't believe it. However, my grandma knew her response wouldn't change their minds. They married and moved away together. It's unfortunate because our perception of them changed completely after that. Now, at 20 years old, I find it truly terrible that she did that. It's strange to think about.

Having the exact details about C, what he did, and how long he was in prison would probably be helpful, but unfortunately I don't know those specifics. If I do some digging I might be able to uncover some more information since I'm really curious after writing all of this. C's face has been etched into my memory. I know it's a bizarre description but it's somewhat accurate. To this day I'm immensely grateful that my grandma did what she did for my cousin and me. After they moved away, we could return to our normal lives without living in fear of being watched outside. We even worried about him attempting to break in or peep through the windows at night. It was strange how friendly he was and why he was so eagerly wanting to befriend my grandma.

I also find it deeply unsettling that someone like Anne, who was around children so much, would even consider trusting a child predator and try to expose him to us. I also find it deeply unsettling that someone like Anne, who was around children so much, would even consider trusting a child predator and try to expose him to us. I have no idea about their current status, but that's kids I look after has recently taken an interest in hiking. I decided to take him to a cool trail in Salt Fork State Park. We parked near the trailhead and were ready to hike to Hosack's Cave. The trail is about half a mile long, which is why I chose it for our hike that day. I also selected this trail because it was usually busy and popular, making me feel secure.

However, severe summer storms last year caused significant damage to the trail. To my surprise, it was much more difficult and completely empty. The empty trail didn't bother me much because there was a small construction crew working on a nearby bridge. Despite the challenging conditions, he was still enthusiastic about the hike. We made it to a platform where we could see the entire cave. Although the platform was closed, we decided to maneuver around it and continue into the cave. This area proved to be the most challenging, but we spent a significant amount of time there. I remember it well. The platform had tree roots underneath, which served as a climbable path down. It's worth noting that Hosak's cave is more like a cliff with an overhanging rock formation and a small

waterfall in the middle. It's an open and beautiful place, not a closed up cave. At the cave I noticed an unlit candle sitting on a large rock with a heart carved into it. I didn't think much of it, assuming someone had a romantic outing there. As we climbed to the top, I spotted two more candles and three stacks of small rocks, presumably placed by someone else. It started to feel strange, but at that moment, the kid that I was with found a small puddle full of baby salamanders and wanted to catch them. Seeing his happiness, I couldn't

bring myself to end the adventure. We spent about an hour catching salamanders and I watched him have the time of his life. When we decided to leave, we noticed a wet washcloth hanging among the tree roots in the platform's center. It wasn't there before. He noticed it too, but didn't grasp the seriousness of the situation that we might be in. At that moment I realized two things for sure. First, someone had been watching us without our knowledge. Second, they were potentially hiding in the woods, deliberately leaving objects for us to notice. Running back on the narrow trail was not an option and I didn't want to alarm him about the potential danger. I instructed him to walk ahead of me, continually encouraging him, and this naturally sped up his pace.

During our time on the trail, I never saw anyone. As we reached the car, I immediately locked the doors. On our way out of the park, a dirty looking man, probably in his thirties, emerged from the woods. He stared at me with an expressionless face, following me with his eyes until I couldn't see him anymore. This encounter confirmed the third fact. He purposely made himself visible to me, affirming the previous two facts. That stare haunted me for days, caused me severe anxiety. I even considered seeking counseling because it deeply disturbed me for weeks. I tried to convince myself that perhaps he was just startled during his bath time or camping nearby. After all, he had more than enough opportunities to do something while we were

occupied with the salamanders. But I can't rationalize why he stared into my eyes the way he did if he wanted to go unnoticed. Deep down, I know it was a deliberate attempt to frighten me. The kid that I was with had no idea about the panic that I felt, and to this day, it remains the most joyful experience I have witnessed him have. He brings it up regularly, and it was a very positive experience for him. But it was one of the worst experiences I've ever had, and it made me feel so sick and disturbed. My sister always locks her doors. She got a job in the Washington, D.C. area of Big City after college. She lived alone with her cats during 9-11 and the sniper shootings,

and she obsessively kept her apartment doors, car doors, and windows locked. What are the chances that the one night she left her back door unlocked would be the only night someone would try to get in? Getting tired of the big city stress, she bounced around a bit before settling with her paternal grandparents in southern New Mexico. She took care of grandma, who was going blind, and helped clean the house and run errands while looking for a job. After finding a good job nearby, she was able to purchase her first home. She still helped the grandparents on weekends until Grandma needed a care facility. My sister got herself a little dog to go along with the two cats.

One night after taking the dog out for his evening piddle, she locked up and went to bed as usual. She always locked up. She slept deeply until the early morning hours when she heard her toilet flush. Being such a fastidious door locker, she was unprepared for an actual breach of security. Kicking her blankets off, she stumbled anxiously into the kitchen to face her intruder unarmed, who just so happened to be a six foot tall, 250 pound male. What? Dad? Sorry, I was helping load up grandpa and grandma's furniture into the moving truck.

I got done late and needed a motel before the long drive home, but I thought I'd see if you were still up. Your lights were out, but the back door was open. I slept on the couch. The little dog whimpered. My sister looked down at his confused face and yelled, You! You're the dog! You're supposed to tell me about these things! The two cats already knew who Dad was and probably snickered behind the dog's back. In all these years we had never figured out how the back door got left open that

one night. The thought that it could have been a stranger is creepy enough to keep her religiously locking her doors and mine too. 3-4 years ago, during my first year of college, I took night classes since they were more common at the college I attended. I had two night classes each week along with two early morning classes three times a week, one of which was a lab. During the second week of my Monday night class, the professor assigned us into groups for our final project. Our task was to research and create a PowerPoint presentation summarizing what we had learned throughout the course. We could meet in class every two weeks to work on the project and we were also allowed to meet outside of class. After being assigned to a group with four other students, we exchanged names and went our separate ways.

The following week, I received a Facebook message from a guy in my final group project. He mentioned having a question about the class so I asked him what it was. He quickly figured it out and I didn't respond. A few minutes later he messaged me again asking for the contact information of the other group members so we could add them on Facebook. I assumed that he wanted to create a group chat for us, but I noticed that that never happened. For the next meeting, we agreed to meet outside of class since we didn't have enough time in class to discuss everything. However, when the time came, only he and I showed up.

Instead of discussing the project, he started talking about his ex. Unsure of what to do, I listened and offered advice while working on assignments for my other classes. After that, he started showing up at my study area. Several weeks went by and I didn't mind him coming to talk to me whenever he needed to vent or seek advice. I had become used to it. One night during my Wednesday night class, I received a message from him asking me to have dinner with him. I told him I couldn't because I was in class and had plans afterwards. He persisted, saying it was just dinner and that he had no one else to eat with. I simply responded, no, I have other things to do after class. However, he kept insisting and accused me of making excuses to avoid going out with him. Truthfully, I didn't want to go, but I also

had a family member in the hospital and needed to visit them during that time. After declining his invitation, I stopped attending class because his behavior had started to creep me out. He always sat next to me in class and constantly asked me to have lunch or dinner with him. He was persistent even when I told him I needed to study or had other plans. Eventually, he messaged me and revealed that he knew where my mom worked. When I asked how he found out, he claimed to have seen someone who looked like me but older and it turned out to be my mom. A week later we ran into each other at a store while my mom and I were shopping. My mom asked who he was and I replied, just a guy from class who really creeps

me out. She also urged me to give him a chance and date him because he was handsome. I expressed my discomfort and asked her to stop discussing it. By the end of the semester, with about two weeks remaining, I still hadn't returned to my Monday night class. I felt thoroughly creeped out at that point. He continually messaged me and persistently tried to arrange meals together, even after I had said no multiple times. One morning I walked out of my morning class and noticed his backpack on the floor near the stairs. He had been sitting there alone. Feeling incredibly anxious, I quietly retreated and used a different staircase.

My anxiety was very high, so I left campus and called my cousin to pick me up since my mom had driven me to school that morning. After explaining the situation to my cousin, they advised me to transfer and file a report. However I didn't end up filing a report because I had stopped seeing him around after blocking him everywhere. Two years ago I had joined a group at a different university where we performed in front of a live audience. I had stopped attending these events out of fear of running into him.

Eventually, I felt it was safe to go since my sister would be with me and I had started dating someone who was not my ex. While we were performing at college, I noticed a familiar face in the crowd, watching me. I couldn't see clearly since I wasn't wearing my glasses, but I could sense him staring at me from the far right. After my performance, I confided in my lead about feeling unsafe. I also told my sister and my ex-boyfriend. Being surrounded by friends made me feel safer than when I was alone. I thought I was in a secure situation, but as I walked back into the room to get my jacket, he started walking towards me, staring intently. In my panic, I turned around and unfortunately, I tripped. I no longer wear those heels by the way. Surprisingly, my ex-boyfriend was right behind

me and caught me. He asked where I was going and upon hearing about the stalker, he advised me to not go anywhere alone in case something happened. He guided me to a safe spot and shielded me until the man passed by. A few months after that incident, he unexpectedly applied to attend the spring retreat for the school organization that I was a part of. He even tried to add me on Instagram, but ungrateful, I decided not to go to that retreat. It would have been a horrible three days of my life. One night, my boyfriend and I were watching a movie in the living room when there was a knock on the door. I was 8 months pregnant and we were both around 27 years old.

My kids, age 5 and 7, were sleeping down the hall. My boyfriend peeked out the window and we saw that it was Roger. We had met Roger a few months before when we helped him with some flooring in his kitchen. We also had chatted outside a few times. He was in his 50s or 60s, very nice and lived alone. There was no bad vibes from him, although he mentioned that he was a dealer and had pounds of weed in his car. We didn't take it too seriously, thinking that he was just joking. Now back to the story, we opened the door. It was late and dark, and at that moment,

I still saw Roger as a nice little old man. However, as soon as the door opened, he barged inside. I immediately sensed that something was off about him. The layout of our house was such that the living room led to the front door, which in turn led to the kitchen with a hallway next to the kitchen table. It was a very small space. Before he sat down in the kitchen next to the hallway entrance, I noticed a huge hunting knife and a baseball bat tucked into his pants under his sweatshirt. I was shocked and didn't know what to do. My boyfriend sat across from Roger, asking him if he was okay or he needed help. Roger started getting agitated and began yelling about the people at his house not being happy with

us. He was upset about the flooring that we had helped him with in the summer. I still had no idea what was going on, but it seemed like he was believing that the floor wasn't done and he wanted my boyfriend to go with him immediately to fix it or else the people at his house would be angry. He brought up my kids and we got into an argument. I told him that they were sleeping and that he needed to leave now and my boyfriend refused to go anywhere. Unaware of the weapons, my boyfriend saw the situation escalating and attempted to defuse it by agreeing to go with Roger. The plan was to get Roger out the door and lock it behind him.

They reached the door and opened it, and just as my boyfriend turned to look at me, Roger unexpectedly pushed him hard, causing him to stumble into the doorway. Roger immediately slammed the door shut, leaving me alone. I called 911 while I heard yelling outside. The operator instructed me to go outside, but I hesitated because Roger had a giant knife and I felt helpless. Eventually, I went out to my deck, but they were gone and it hadn't even been a minute. I stood there in shock and fear.

Time passed and suddenly there was a frantic pounding on the door. Luckily it was my boyfriend. I opened the door and he rushed in with wide eyes and this mysterious axe that he found. Both the 911 operator and I were bewildered and asked him what had happened. Apparently as soon as they reached the road, Roger pulled out the knife and began yelling threats, saying that he would cut your head off for the people at my house. My boyfriend immediately fled from there, running through yards to get back home and grabbing an axe along the way. The RCMP arrived and we had a court date. However, we ended up waiting outside the courtroom until we were informed that it was over. Roger was present, wearing an oversized suit. He lived in the same cul-de-sac as us,

and my kids would wait for the bus where he walked by. No one ever told us if he was arrested or when he was released. We eventually just moved. I have just been reminded by my Facebook memories of an encounter I had five years ago, so I thought I'd go ahead and post it here. So five years ago, I was a backpacker who had recently arrived in Melbourne, Australia. It was my fifth day in the city and I spent my mornings applying to every job offer that matched my skill set and my afternoons exploring the new city. At that point I was nearing the end of my stay in Australia, with about four months left on my two-year visa. I had met all kinds of people during my travels and experienced a few memorable characters, but this one still stands out to me even after all these years. My job search was

quite broad. I had already done my farm work, worked a few shifts in the hospitality industry, and had a trial lined up as a retail assistant. Unfortunately, that trial fell through when the guy only paid me about $40 for a whole day's worth of work, and that's when I realized that there were probably better paying and more secure jobs out there that were also legal and didn't involve sketchy employers. Back home in Germany, I had a background in administration and office management within the IT industry. In the past, I had managed to secure positions that wouldn't typically consider backpackers, so that was my goal for Melbourne.

I applied for numerous admin assistant roles, any type of entry-level office management, executive assistants, personal assistants, receptionists, you name it. I even signed up with several recruiting agencies to increase my chances. One day I came across an advertisement looking for an executive assistant to a senior leadership management position. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It contained a detailed description of the role and stated the name of the company, which was a small legal firm. At that stage, I had already applied

for around 50 jobs, so they all started blending together. So I wrote a cover letter, attached my CV, and applied. About seven minutes later, I received a call. It was the management member himself calling me directly. That struck me as strange since it wasn't something I came across very often. I thought maybe it was just a small company. The conversation started off as usual for the first five minutes. He introduced himself as John Smith and talked about the position and its expectations. Then it took a weird turn. And here's the dialogue. So, uh, you'd be required to wear a uniform. You okay with that? Yeah, that's totally fine. Well, we'll get you to try on the uniform when you come in for your interview. I'll order it now. What's your size? Oh, um, my tops are size L and the pants XL will do.

So you're bigger then? Yup. Do you know your waist measurements? How much do you weigh? Um, just XL for pants, that's usually fine. And top, what's your bra size? That's an awfully personal question for an interview, don't you think? Is it like double D or something? I need to know as your superior. I want to get it right.

Are you free for an interview today? Okay. Naturally, I found this very strange. I had encountered some creepy Australian men before, but rarely in a professional setting. However, I agreed to the interview since I was desperate for a job and had no other option lined up. He said he would text me the address. About five minutes later, he called me back. Are you free to come in and interview today after 9pm? I'd like to discuss this with you over dinner. Oh, I'm so sorry. I would have had dinner by that

point, but I can still come and meet you. Okay. Do you drink? Yes, I prefer to drink only a little though. What will you be wearing? What are you wearing currently? Do you have proper interview clothes? I do have proper interview clothes, yes. I don't see how what I'm currently wearing is relevant. Do you realize you really have to impress me tonight? I mean, you really have to. I'm sure you've impressed your boss before, right? I said, yeah, sure, and he proceeded to text me the address.

I looked it up, and it was about 40 minutes from the company's official address listed on their website near a train station. Needless to say, all my alarm bells were going off but I was still determined to go because I was running low on savings. I decided I would go early and scope out the train station. Is the area well lit? Are there routes to escape? Are there people around? Are there shops and bars nearby? While I was researching the area, he called me again. Hey, do you drink? Yes, as I said before. Now tell me exactly what you'll be wearing. Sir, I haven't really decided.

Okay then. Well, I require you to send me a photo of you right now. We'll see you tonight at the train station. I'm sorry, my camera's broken, but I'll see you tonight. My camera wasn't actually broken. I just wanted to get off the phone ASAP. And about three hours before the interview, I got on the tram and took the hour-long journey to the train station. On the way in there, it got quieter and quieter until eventually there were no more people around even shortly after rush hour. I wore a tight-fitting outfit, one you couldn't rip off, so to speak, messaged a few friends about where I was going and who I was meeting. Finally, I decided a job wasn't worth my life,

so I texted him that I was very uncomfortable meeting him in this location this late, and it didn't seem professional to me, and he replied that I was missing out and that I'll regret it. I blocked his number and went back into the city. It's still the strangest encounter I've ever had, and I'm so glad I never met that guy. In hindsight, I wish I had contacted the company about him, but alas, as a backpacker in my early 20s, it just never occurred to me. To be continued... future narrations. I release new videos every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 7pm EST. If you get a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, r slash let's read official, and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And if you want to support me even

more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. And check out the Let's Read podcast, where you can hear all of these stories in big compilations and save huge on data, located anywhere you listen to podcasts. Links in the description below. Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you again soon. you