The Lets Read Podcast - 305: I WASN'T ALONE | 21 TERRIFYING True Scary Stories / Rain Ambience | EP 291

Episode Date: August 5, 2025

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about winter camping & tales off of reddit HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT? [e-mail] FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ♫ Music & Cover art: INEKT https://www.youtube.com/@inekt

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I've always enjoyed winter camping, the kinds of trips that really push you to your limits and force you to embrace the cold and silence of the frozen wilderness. Last winter, I decided to go on a solo trip deep into north central Pennsylvania. The area I picked out was so remote that getting there would require an hour-long drive down dirt forest service roads, followed by a six-mile hike along a barely visible trail. There wasn't a soul around, and I wasn't expecting to see anyone. The quiet, snow-covered forest was exactly what I was looking for.

The trail was rough, overgrown in places and barely recognizable as a path. I had to push through dense, wet brush, and there were no footprints in the snow, no sign of anyone having been there recently. It felt like the kind of place that only those looking to truly. escaped the world would find. The trail followed a creek down a rocky valley, which didn't make for an easy hike, let me assure you. And the terrain was steep and uneven with ice patches and thick snow covering the rocks, making each step a careful decision. But the beauty of the place, the stillness, the quiet, crisp air, it was well worth the effort. I had no specific

destination in mind. I was just wandering through the woods, hoping to find a good spot to set up camp. As the sun began to set and the temperature drastically dropped, I came to a fork in the creek. On the other side, there was a section of relatively flat land that looked perfect for a campsite, and I carefully crossed the creek, stepping cautiously on the slippery rocks and then started to investigate the area. Scattered across the snow were signs that someone had been there recently. A tarp was spread out in the ground next to a stone fire ring, and nearby a log about a foot in diameter had been chopped in half so cleanly that it had to be with some kind of axe or blade. I moved closer, inspecting the area more carefully.

A pile of gear immediately stood out. There were food wrappers, a small cooking set, a camping pad, and a first aid kit, and everything someone might need for a winter camping trip. All of it was just left behind, carelessly discarded as if someone had just walked away from it. I continued exploring, more irritated at this person's carelessness more than anything, and until I found the clothes. They were piled by the creek, damped from the last rainstorm that had passed through the day before, and they weren't wet enough to be fresh, but they hadn't dried out properly

either. They sat there, almost as if abandoned, with a towel draped over a nearby branch, still damp and heavy with moisture from the night before. Then, as I walked a bit further, I came across something that truly disturbed me. There was an area near the creek, clearly used as a toilet. Piles of toilet paper, some stained with brown and others with remnants of urine, were scattered across the ground. It wasn't just one or two pieces either.

It was a whole mess of them, indicating that someone had been using the spot for maybe two to three weeks. But that wasn't what I found so disturbing, though. hidden behind a cluster of trees was a strange metal structure, almost like a cage, but not anything I could make sense of. It was about four square feet, constructed from metal bars that looked like they'd been welded together to form a crude cube frame. Obviously, I knew it looked enough like a cage to call it one, but the thing that didn't make sense is that it didn't seem to have any kind of opening. It looked like someone had purposely built that thing out there

in the middle of nowhere because no one in their right mind would have dragged that thing all the way out here and it would also explain why they stayed in that one spot for so long but then why build it and why not add any kind of door or hatch i felt a chill go through me one that had nothing to do with the winter air something about the entire setup everything from the abandoned gear to the weird cage it was enough to majorly give me the creeps but there was one major problem If you remember, with daylight dwindling, I'd been looking for a spot to camp. With the sun starting to set, I could either turn back, trying to hike out in the dark on a trail that I barely knew, or I could stay there, almost right next to the place that was giving me the creeps. It wasn't an easy choice, but in the end, I decided not to gamble in finding a new spot, and I set up camp right there.

I didn't feel safe at all, but the alternative posed risk that I wasn't prepared to entertain, yet even though I was fairly confident the cage builder wasn't going to return, it was a lot of trash, but no tent, I felt on edge and I was constantly looking over my shoulder. The knife I carried was almost constantly in my hand, ready in case anything went wrong, but I still couldn't feel 100% safe, especially not after the sun went down. Every rustling noise, every snap of a branch in the distance made my heart race, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone, and that someone was watching me from the darkness. The night dragged on and I barely slept. I kept hearing things, things that sounded like footsteps in the distance or the sound of something moving through the snow, too far away to make out but close enough to send shivers down my spine. The fire flickered and crackled, casting long black shadows all around me, and it did little

to calm my nerves considering the situation. By the time the first light of dawn crept through the trees, I packed up as quickly as I could. I didn't care that I was still half asleep. I wanted out. I left the valley behind without a second glance, hiking back to my truck as fast as I could manage, and the entire time I couldn't shake the images of the abandoned camp, the strange clothes, the piles of toilet paper, and most of all, that cage. It haunted me as I walked, and it still does.

When I got home, I called the Forest Service and reported what I had found, and then sent them the pictures I had taken of the cage in the camp, hoping someone would be able to explain it. The ranger on the phone told me it was probably just some loner living out there, maybe someone trying to escape society and live off the grid or something. He also mentioned that it could have been the remains of an old moonshine operation or a pot growing setup, though he admitted that the second option didn't seem likely for that area. I never went back to that spot. Part of me wanted to, to see if I could figure out what the

cage was really for, but something in my gut told me that that wasn't a good idea. The woods aren't always empty, and sometimes the things you find out there are better left unexplained. But that cage, it still rattles around in my mind. I'll never forget it. I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in high school. I wasn't exactly the most popular kid in high school. I was just this average girl, not cool enough to hang with a popular crowd, but not quirky enough to get bullied either. Honestly, if you ask most of my classmates today, they probably wouldn't even remember me. I grew up in a big city. I won't say where, but think of places like Detroit, Chicago, or Philadelphia. I grew up in a place like that, and my neighborhood was this mix of faded brick buildings

and concrete jungles. There was always noise, honking horns, sirens, and stuff like that. They had its own kind of charm, but sometimes it felt a little heavy. And yeah, there was definitely a fair amount of crime. Like I said, I wasn't super popular. My claim to fame was that my dad owned a junkyard with an iron shredder, and it might sound a bit odd, but honestly, it was kind of fascinating. A few people wanted to come by just to watch that machine shred old washing machines

and rusty bikes into tiny bits. The first time I saw it in action, I was about ten, and the noise was like thunder. I remember feeling scared watching how the metal twisted and crumpled. It was oddly beautiful in this sort of destructive way. all the girls in school were crushing on this guy named Marco and of course i was too he was a basketball star who worked out all the time plus he always seemed super smart like he had stocks figured out or something and everyone knew he had some family problems but he still radiated confidence one night during a football game he came over to talk to me and my heart literally raced i half expected someone to pinch me to wake up from this dream he didn't say much though he just said that he wanted to talk to me and asked me where he could find me at halftime. I said that we could meet at the front entrance. At halftime, we slipped away to his car, and he said he wanted to go

to McDonald's. And that felt so random, but I wasn't going to complain. This was my first chance to hang out with Marco, and it was starting to feel almost like a date. Now, while we were driving, he suddenly pulled over and asked if he could show me something. He takes out a gun, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I was not ready to see that. and he says, I need you to get rid of this. And everything around me went blurry. When someone holds a gun in front of you, all rational thoughts vanish, and I was terrified. I didn't want to be in that situation, and I couldn't really say no, because he was holding a gun.

My mind raced with all the things that could go wrong, and it felt like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders. I didn't ask questions. I just nodded, hoping to make things better. he told me to text him later saying it was nice seeing you at the game today after i got rid of it we went through the mcdonald's drive-thru but i didn't have any appetite that was seriously weird and i almost felt like i was being kidnapped and in a way i kind of was he didn't force me to get in the car with him but i couldn't really tell him to let me go either and in the way it felt like i was being intimidated into being in his car now anyways he gave me the gun and dropped me off at my

car in the school parking lot, and we said our goodbyes from there. I went to school and grabbed the junkyard, praying that my parents wouldn't catch me. Thankfully, they were upstairs and the keys were in the fridge, and it felt like I was living in some kind of bad movie. I drove to the junkyard, but then panic set in hard. What if opening the gate was too loud and someone heard me? Wouldn't if alarm went off? What if someone showed up while I was there? What if the gun got stuck in the shredder. I had never operated that thing alone. What if I accidentally hurt myself? What if I couldn't figure out how to operate the shredder in time? What if this whole plan backfired and made everything worse? I just knew that this wasn't going to work out. And so instead, I went

back to McDonald's, ordered a large meal because fries make everything better, and carefully slipped the gun into a bag with fries and a burger. I looked on Google Maps, found to park about 30 minutes away and then drove there trying to stay calm. When I got to the park, I felt strangely detached from everything around me. I tossed the McDonald's bag into a trash can, and then I sat on the bench with my heart racing while trying to think of what to say if someone asked what I was doing. If anyone had approached me that night and asked if I was okay, I would just ask them to call an ambulance for me.

I felt so guilty that I literally felt sick. I have no idea how long I spent trying to calm down, but eventually. I was ready to go home. Now, later on, I found out Marcos' sister had gotten mixed up in something truly horrific that night. She was involved in a violent robbery where she had used a gun to threaten a store owner. The store owner had not cooperated with her, and she had beaten the man's head with the gun, leaving him bloodied and dazed on the floor.

Thankfully, no one was killed, but the brutality of it all felt terrifying and sad. That victim was an old man. I was caught up in something way darker than I'd ever imagined. When Marco's sister was arrested and eventually charged, I was terrified someone would find out what I'd done and link it back to me. I felt like I was carrying around this heavy secret and I was suffocating. The thought of being questioned by the police or worse and becoming a suspect haunted me, and I never brought up the incident.

I saw Marco around school and made sure to not even make eye contact. and thankfully I never heard anything more about it. The rumors faded and life went on. When girls talked about Marco, I said just enough to pretend like everything was normal. I still visit home occasionally and have seen Marco around. He's always surrounded by friends, laughing and carefree, but we never talk. It's terrifying how easily I was intimidated into participating in something so horrific. And each time I see him, it leaves me with a chill.

Around twice a year, my wife and I like to drive our RV into the San Juan Mountains in southwest Colorado. make our one summer trip and one winter trip because my wife loves the snow, but last year was different. The snow started, then just didn't stop, and for four straight days, it fell without a break. And by day number five, avalanches were coming down all around us, I'm not even joking. And a bad avalanche, the previous winter had cleared huge sections of trees and wildfires had burned through other areas we usually camp in during the summer. And with nothing left to hold the snow, the slopes gave way and the bare ground turned into rivers of snow and ice. And the route to the nearest town was blocked off. And although we had an alternate route and

much longer route out of there, it seemed like only a matter of time before that got snowed over too. And so we decided to get the hell out of there while we still could. We started packing up our gear, trying to work quickly between the snow showers. And then as we loaded the last of our things, we heard it. The sound of yet another distant avalanche. We had become used to the noise by then, but obviously this time the situation was different. We were concerned it had blocked off our final route of escape, in which case we'd be stuck there until God knows when with only two days' worth of food in the RV. We ran to see where the snows had shifted, and we were relieved to see it wasn't anywhere near our route. But then seconds later, there was a scream.

It was the single most blood-curdling scream I'd ever heard in my life, and I'll never forget how it echoed across the valley, sharp and long before just suddenly stopping. There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that someone died that morning. The scream was full of fear and pain, and I felt it deep within my bones. My wife and I just stood there, frozen listening to the silence that followed it, and we knew we had to do something we just didn't know what.

We couldn't tell where the scream had come from exactly, and the snow has a way of tricking you when it comes to how close and far certain sounds are. And so in the end, we went running out into the snow looking for somebody, anybody who'd be able to help. Luckily, we found somebody nearby with an ATV and a radio, and they used it to call for help. There wasn't much else we could do. The avalanches made it too dangerous to go searching any further ourselves, and once we knew help was on the way, and we figured that we were more than likely to get in the way than actually contribute, we decided to head home. During the very silent ride home, driving east on I-70, we saw more signs of destruction.

Avalanches had hit the area hard, and as we drove through Glenwood Canyon, we missed another massive slide by maybe 40 to 45 minutes. This one was so strong it changed the course of the Colorado River and washed away the highway. Entire sections of road were just gone. swallowed by snow and debris. It made the landscape unrecognizable, like it was the end of days in my mind. Mother Nature was brutal that trip. She's a giving goddess, but Lord does she know how to takeeth away.

She showed us her true power in ways I'd never seen before. The snow, the avalanches, the destruction. It's enough to make a man awestruck and make him feel small, insignificant almost. We were lucky to get away when we did, but I can't forget that scream. it plays in my head sometimes sort of a reminder of how small and helpless we are in the face of nature's force and that trip taught me to respect her power

and to never take safety for granted in the wilderness. It was autumn of 2015. I was 23 years old, and I'm 31 now. During that time, I lived in Lancaster as I was studying at Lancaster University. And for those who may not be familiar, Lancaster is a small and rather quaint town in the north of England. And as a student, you could either live at the university campus

or in private accommodation in the town. I had decided to live in a newly built, renovated apartment, and a nice side of town. And yes, it was very expensive, sadly. I had already been studying for two years and had reached my third year. By this time, I had grown accustomed to the layout of the town and felt comfortable and safe living there semi-independently, with two other friends who were also studying at the university. Since my first year, I had decided to improve my fitness by taking nightly runs around either the campus or the town,

as we were living in the town center by my third year, I would run either with my housemate or alone. The important thing to note about Lancaster, and this will be important later, is that it has quite a large residential area that is hilly and far removed from the bustling center, which at that time was a hub for the students or the local northern folk, probably drinking in pubs or eating pies. Occasionally, I would run with my housemate. However, I preferred to run alone and listen to some kind of heavy metal. I'm a big fan of deaf tones during that period of time. On this particular day, as I said, a chilly, autumnal evening, I decided to run alone. It was about 8 p.m. and I had my earphones in. I had started to run up to the more isolated district that led to a very pretty residential area

in a large green called Williamson Park. It had a butterfly museum on the top of a hill. And next to the park was a very large graveyard, the kind that is miles wide and had different areas. large yew trees, crumbling graves, and a crypt in the center overrun with leaves and ivy. What was especially creepy about this particular cemetery was that it had the ruin of an old mental asylum or hospital at the other side. You could actually sneak in if you walked across the width of the cemetery and crawled through a small hole in the fence that led to the asylum grounds. This was not advised, though, as guard dogs roamed the derelict building. It was not a place that you wanted to be.

during the night. So I had made my way past Williamson Park and up to the entrance of the graveyard. Immediately my eyes were drawn to something small standing at the imposing gates of the graveyard. They were kind of tall, black iron gates that were at the bottom of a little winding path. I felt a little apprehensive, but it wasn't unusual to see people walking their dogs, et cetera, out of the graveyard. And so I started to slow my pace to a walk in the direction of the shape. And as I drew nearer, I realized that that shape was a child, around nine to ten years old, and they were running towards me frantically. They looked panicked and scared, and I think that they were crying. I vividly remember that the girl was not wearing a coat, only a thin dress that

would not be suitable for the harsh Lancasterian autumn. She asked me if I could help her. She was desperate and seemed to be frightened of something, and she kept looking back into the graveyard which at this point was totally pitch black beyond the gates. I mean, there was absolutely no light beyond the path. As the graveyard was quite large, it was chilling to see the depth of the blackness and the vulnerable child standing at the mouth of the gate, helpless. I don't recall what the girl said exactly,

but then I offered to call the local police. I had typed 999 into my phone and had it on loudspeaker. The girl immediately changed. She was not happy about the fact that I was calling the police. that was clear. She stopped crying and seemed angry, almost demanding and insisted that she did not need the police to help. I reassured her that it was best to inform them, even offered to walk her to the station, which was about 20 minutes back down the hill. And this is where the story gets weird and a little terrifying. The girl turned and ran back into the graveyard. She ran directly through

the gates into the eerie blackness. She didn't turn back. back, just ran as quickly as possible until she had completely disappeared. It was then, totally silent. I was spooked beyond belief. Now standing in a darkened street completely alone, I had so many questions. Who was the girl? Why was she alone? Why was she scared of the police?

Why wasn't she afraid of the dark? And who might be she running to or from? I turned and ran all the way back down the hill, not stopping. until I had reached a well-lit, built-up area, and safe to say I didn't run on my own again at night. During October of 2024, 35-year-old father and self-employed contractor Dustin Mitchell Yersam ventured into the remote Moose Creek area near Big Sky, Montana, and tent on a few days of solo camping. Dustin had long been a passionate advocate of outdoor pursuits and had managed to convince a friend to join him during the final few days of his trip. However, on October 12th, when he failed to meet a friend as planned, concern quickly grew.

Dustin's friend, when looking for his campsite and following a few hours of searching, he made a horrifying and heartbreaking discovery. Dustin was still lying in his tent, bloodied, torn up, and lifeless. The initial assumption was that he had fallen prey to a bear attack, a plausible scenario in Montana's wilderness. However, as investigators from the Gallatin County Sheriff's Office delve deeper, inconsistencies emerged. There were no signs of bear activity in the volcano.

vicinity, and the nature of Dustin's injuries did not align with those typically inflicted by wildlife. An autopsy revealed that he had suffered multiple chop wounds, including severe trauma to the skull, conclusively ruling his death a homicide. With the revelation of foul play, the investigation took on a new urgency. Detectives faced the daunting task of piecing together the events leading to Dustin's death. The remote location of the campsite, coupled with limited cell service posed significant challenges. Authorities appeal to the public for assistance, particularly seeking information from anyone who had been in the area or possessed trail camera footage that might offer clues. On October 30th of 2024, a significant breakthrough occurred.

Gallatin County Sheriff's Office announced that they had identified a suspect in Dustin's murder. The individual, already in custody on unrelated charges, was cooperating with detectives. Sheriff Dan Springer expressed confidence in the progress of the investigation, stating that the suspect had led investigators to crucial evidence. While the suspect's identity was not immediately disclosed, authorities assured the public that there was no ongoing threat, encouraging the community to continue their outdoor activities without fear. Further details emerged revealing the suspect as 41-year-old Darren Christopher Abbey. Abbey confessed to the heinous crime, admitting that he had encountered Dustin at the campsite, where Dustin had extended a friendly welcome, even offering him a beer. In a shocking portrayal of this hospitality, Abby attacked Dustin,

striking him in the head with a piece of wood, stabbing him in the neck with a screwdriver, and inflicting additional wounds with an axe. He then attempted to conceal his involvement by removing evidence from the scene, including the axe, a shotgun, a revolver, and a cooler. Abbey's motive for the unprovoked attack remains unclear. Dustin's tragic death sent shockwaves through the local community. Known for his love of the outdoors and dedication to his family,

he left behind a young daughter and a stepson. His family and friends remembered him as a loving father, brother, and a son, whose life was senselessly cut short. A memorial gathering was held on October 25th of 2024 at Headwater State Park where loved ones shared stories and paid tribute to his memory. As the legal process unfolds, the case. community remains united in the pursuit of justice for Dustin. The Gallatin County Sheriff's Office continues to work diligently to ensure that all

aspects of the case are thoroughly investigated, aiming to provide closure for Dustin's family and to uphold the safety and security of the community. Dustin's tragic end serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers that can lurk even in the most serene settings. While the wilderness offers solace and adventure, it also demands vigilance and caution. This incident has prompted many outdoor enthusiasts to reassess their safety measures and to remain ever aware of their surroundings, even in the company of those who initially appear friendly. The senseless murder of Dustin Mitchell Yersam has left an indelible mark on the Big Sky community.

As authorities continue to piece together the events that led to his untimely death, the community stands in solidarity with his family, honoring his memory and advocating for justice. Dustin's love for the outdoors and his generous spirit will be remembered. by all who knew him, even as they grapple with the profound loss and the unsettling reality that such evil can manifest in unexpected places. August in 2020, I had moved in with my aunt and uncle to an insanely small rural town in California. When I first moved there, a friend of mine had made it a point to show me that someone could drive across the whole town within five minutes. And at the time, I didn't realize how important that fact would become to the safety of me and my loved ones.

My best friend Haley and I, her 17 and me being 18 years old at the time, were hanging out of the park that was about a 5 to 10 minute walk from where I lived. And I say park because there were a few tables and benches and it was technically known as a town park. But in reality it was more a small grass clearing surrounded by woods and a dirt trail near the bank of a river. I had started to frequent this place after moving, walking down to the benches and trail to smoke or sip up. the water. I had never really noticed any suspicious characters before this, even though I had plenty warned about a couple creepers that were in the area known for bothering young girls. Haley and I had been smoking for a bit unbothered in the clearing when we decided to finish our little trip with exploring the trail a little bit and just taking in all the scenery. We had been walking and

talking for about five minutes when I started to get this tension on my shoulders, like that feeling you get when you know someone is looking at you. I look behind us and there was a man on the trail with us. Granted, this path is pressed right against the sidewall of a gated community, so seeing people going on walks and jogging was fairly common. I told my friend of the man's presence, but she had just written it off as me being anxious. But she had a good point that I tend to be a bit hyper-aware at times, but something about the man felt wrong in my gut. We kept walking. and I would periodically look back and keep tabs on the dark-haired middle-aged man walking about 50 feet behind us. After not too long at all, the man started picking up pace behind us.

Calm, casual walking became more of a speedwalk, and I turned around completely and started walking backwards to try and communicate to this man that I was completely aware of his presence. He had moved toward the side of the trail, looking like he was about to walk through the brush down to the river. I felt a bit stupid for being so worried, turning back around, and I resumed walking forward, but glanced back one more time to be sure that he was gone. As I looked behind us for the last time, I saw the man in a full sprint,

charging back onto the trail straight toward me and Haley. I grabbed her sleeve with one hand and pulled out my pocket knife with the other. I can't remember what I said to her, but we started sprinting down the trail as fast as we could. I had never gone far down this path and had no idea where it led. The man chasing us was blocking our way back to the clearing and the road. His footsteps on the dirt grew louder, getting closer. I let go of Haley's sleeve to pull out my phone and called my uncle while still running. I told him we were being followed on the trail at the park,

but I couldn't give him an exact location. I had never gone much further than the entrance and didn't know where the trail led to. My uncle told me to stay on the phone and make as much noise as possible so he could find us. I let out the loudest, shrillest scream I could muster as we kept running. And finally we reached the end of the path where an old metal fence surrounded some trees in what looked like an abandoned house or shed. Nearby, we saw the back corner of the outer wall for the gated community. And in that split second, it seemed like our best option.

I yanked us off the dirt path and into the trees lining the cement wall. I yelled at Haley to climb as fast as she could, boosting her from the bottom so she could use a tree in the ledge to get over the top. I threw my pocket knife and phone over the wall and somehow scrambled up and over myself as fast as I could. I landed face first onto a neatly trimmed patch of grass inside the gated community, startling a man who had been calmly walking his dog. I became acutely aware of how strange we must have looked,

Two panicked teenagers yelling and holding a knife, but the man seemed to realize that we were in trouble. He rushed over to ask if we needed help, and while Haley explained the situation, I got back to my phone with my uncle and told him that we had made it into the gated community. And not even a minute later, we heard my uncle shouting from the trail. He yelled threats at the man who had chased us, making it clear that he had a firearm and wasn't afraid to use it. The man with a dog led us to a small access gate along the wall and unlocked it so we could meet my uncle on the trail. My uncle told us that he had driven his car through the park and up to the trail entrance as fast as possible before running to find us. He hadn't seen anyone on his way in. After checking to make sure that we were okay, I retold what had happened in greater detail now that the panic was wearing off.

My uncle escorted us back to his car, his firearm in plain sight, ready in case. the man showed himself again. We didn't see him on the way back, and I haven't returned to that place since, but for a long time after, I was constantly paranoid that I was being followed whenever I left the house. We were never able to figure out who that man was, and I haven't seen him since that day. The snow started falling harder just as the sun disappeared behind the trees. We were camping in the forest, my friend Jake and I, trying to enjoy one last trip before winter truly set in. We didn't expect the weather to turn so quickly, though.

The forecast had called for light snow. nothing more. We'd set up camp near a small clearing, but when the snow began to fall heavier, Jake decided to gather more fireward before it got dark, and I stayed behind to get the fire going. He didn't come back, though. And at first I thought he was just taking his time, but as the minutes dragged on, I started to worry. I shouted his name into the trees, but the thick snow seemed to muffled my voice, and there was no reply. I grabbed my flashlight, and I decided to go look for him. I figured that he couldn't have gone far. The snow was coming down in these thick sheets, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. I called out for Jake

again and again, but the only sound was the wind whistling through the trees. My flashlight beam wavered as I stumbled over roots and rocks buried under the snow, and the cold began to seep into my gloves and boots, and my toes and fingers started to feel numb. I had no sense of direction. Every tree looked the same and the snow had covered our tracks. I turned in what I thought was the direction of the camp, but it was useless. The forest had swallowed me up. After what felt like hours of walking, my flashlight started to flicker and panic, clawed at my chest. I shouted Jake's name again, but my voice cracked and faded and I was alone, lost in these freezing woods. The cold was getting worse. My hand shook uncontrollably.

my breath came out in these sort of ragged clouds. My body felt heavy, and my legs were weak, and I knew the signs of hypothermia, but there was nothing I could do. I had no shelter, no warmth, and no idea where I was. I kept moving, though my steps were slow and unsteady. I tripped and fell into the snow once more, each time struggling to get back up, and my wet clothes clung to my skin, sapping what little heat I had left. My head was pounding, and my thoughts were slow, like my brain was sort of freezing along with my body, and I started to see things in the trees, shadows that moved, shapes that weren't there when I blinked.

I knew it wasn't real, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me. The wind sounded like whispers, but I couldn't make out the words, and at some point I just collapsed. My legs couldn't carry me any further. The snow was soft, and in some ways comforting, and I felt an overwhelming earth. to close my eyes. Just for a moment, I thought, just to rest. But I knew if I fell asleep I wouldn't wake up again. I forced myself to crawl, dragging my body through the snow. My hands were so numb, I couldn't feel them anymore. My vision blurred and my chest burned with every breath,

and my mind drifted in and out of clarity, thoughts just completely scattered, and I began to recall random memories, faces of family and friends, moments that seemed so far away now. I don't know how long I crawled. Time pretty much lost all meaning in that moment. The snowstorm felt eternal, an unending sea of white and gray, and my body screamed for rest, and my mind just begged for warmth, and I began to feel a mix of hope and despair. Then in the distance, a sort of faint glow. At first I thought it was another hallucination, a cruel trick of my freezing mind, but as I squinted, the light stayed steady. It was warm, and golden, cutting through the gray and white of the storm, and hope surged in my chest,

giving me just enough strength to keep moving. The light led me to a small wooden building, a ranger station. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the windows glowed with the promise of warmth, and I used the last of my strength to bang on the door before collapsing against it. I don't remember much after that. The door opened and someone pulled me inside. The warmth hit me like a wave, painful at first, but I didn't care. I was alive. Voices buzzed around me, hands wrapped me in blankets, and someone pressed a hot drink to my lips. I sipped it slowly, my body trembling as it started to thaw. The heat coursed through me, but it came with sharp, stinging pain as my numb extremities began to regain feeling. You're lucky, I heard someone say,

and my vision cleared slightly and I saw a man likely a ranger kneeling beside me and his eyes were filled with some concern you're lucky you've found this place another hour out there and it might have been too late it took hours before i could speak my voice was hoarse my throat dry i managed to tell the ranger about jake and he nodded we'll get a search party out at first light I remember him saying, and I spent the night in the station raft in a layer upon layer of blankets, and the fire crackled, a comforting sound that felt like a lifeline, and sleep came in small bits. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw that forest again, all the endless snow, the shadows that moved where they shouldn't. Morning came, and true to his word, the ranger had organized a search. I insisted on going with them, even though I was still weak. We combed the area, calling out

for Jake and hours passed, and I felt the weight of a dread grow heavier with every step. And we did finally find him. He'd made a shelter under a fallen tree, using branches and his jacket to create a crude barrier against the cold. He was alive, though his face was pale and his lips blew. He'd managed to keep a small fire going, but it was clear that he'd been on the edge, just like me, and relief washed over me. The embrace felt like a scar on both of us. Even though I can't forget the feeling of the cold, the weight of the snow and the shadow and the trees, the forest doesn't feel the same anymore.

It's beautiful, but it's also deadly. And Jake and I haven't gotten camping since. Sometimes when the snow starts to fall, I feel a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. It's a memory. The echo of a night when nature showed me just how small and fragile I truly am. I met Leo, an 18-year-old male at the time during my 17-year-old female at the time junior year of high school. Leo was an immigrant from Guatemala and new to my high school. we had many classes together but we both enjoyed choir a lot one day we were coming back from a choir trip and i mustered up the courage to sit with him on the bus and begin a conversation

he charmed me immediately and we talked for about three hours and enjoyed the time so much and he gave me a cute origami boat with his number and snapchat on it and i felt like i had fallen pretty hard we spent the next ten days messaging and snapping every single day we sat next to each other in every class and started eating lunch in the library together. I began to notice a few red flags that I chose to ignore because I thought I was kind of being crazy. The first was that any time I invited him to an activity or hangout outside of school, he would blatantly refuse. There was never any excuse or reason. The answer was just a sort of simply nope.

I invited him to several things, even some with my family, and he would never even consider it. the next red flag started when he would ask me questions but never allow me to actually answer them he'd ask a question and right as i begin to respond he would interrupt with a much more personal question for example what are you doing today oh i'm going to and then he'd go right to how many boyfriends have you had it was all very strange on day 10 i was walking my dog and i got a strange message from him I had a dream and I want to tell you about it. At first I was actually pretty thrilled and kind of curious, but then when he started sending a bunch of messages through, I got really sick.

The dreams he had were a bunch of very descriptive, weird fantasies about me. All of them were sickening and objectified my body in ways that no one would be comfortable with. He started telling me of the types of photos he wanted to take of me and things he wanted to be doing to myself in them. It wasn't arousing at all. It was honestly very scary. Then he told me how he wanted to meet up in secret several times a week, that nobody would know. And that's when I responded, no, just please lose my number and never talk to me again. And I blocked him on everything.

I called my friend who had him on Snap as well, and she frantically told me that he was adding photos to a story. All of them were explicit photos of girls that looked a lot like me. They had the same body type, hair color, skin tone, et cetera, and he did this for two months until he graduated and announced the class that he would be moving to California. Throughout those two months, he would constantly try to talk to me at school the way he first did when we were harmlessly flirting, but I shut it down and told him to go away. I thought it was in the clear, but that was not the case. All summer I would get messages from random numbers.

You look pretty in that pink shirt. What did you order? I ordered the burger. It's a nice day for the fair, right? Anytime I went out with friends, he was there, and I would never see him, but he would message me something that I would know that he was there. All of the numbers were burner phones, and at the same time he was posting photos on his Instagram of being in California. His new life there, and how he was getting a new job, house, et cetera, and none of the pictures had his face in them, though. I just deleted all of my socials, changed my number, and eventually, after I graduated, my family moved to a new town,

and I followed. He clearly no longer knew where I was, but I would still get messages and emails with fake profiles of him trying to stalk my friends and family, and it continued for three more years until one day he just kind of stopped. I never heard from him again. Eventually I got my socials back, but made everything private. I'm now married and actually doing great at my job, but I'll never forget how awful of an experience that was. Every few years, it resurfaces and plays through my mind on repeat for months at a time. We were teenagers, 16 and 17 out camping alone in the woods. It was supposed to be a fun trip.

We had made dinner, sat by the fire, and were enjoying the quiet evening by the river. But then, out of nowhere, some guy appeared. He was walking along the river with a fishing pole looking like he was just passing through. He stopped at our campsite and asked if he could cut through to the road. and really didn't think much of it so he said sure he seemed harmless at first just a guy looking for a shortcut but then he sort of lingered he started asking questions how old are you where are you from how long you staying and they seemed like normal innocent questions but something about the way he was asking made us uncomfortable we were young and naive and for some reason we answered

when he finally left it seemed like a relief and we didn't think much more about it He headed down to the canyon, and we assumed that he was just gone for good. But a couple of hours later, he came back, this time with a friend. The two of them were middle-aged, probably in their mid-40s, and they didn't have any fishing poles this time. They didn't seem to have any reason to be there other than to get closer to us, and they started asking more questions. Where we were from?

What are we doing out here, and how long are you staying? The original guy began wandering around our campsite, looking at our gear, and we're poking around the edges of our tents. We both felt the tension in the air, a quiet, unease that we really couldn't shake. It wasn't long before they left, but they didn't go back the way they came. Instead, they went up the canyon, deeper into the woods and out of sight. And that's when we started to feel something was wrong. As the hours passed and night began to settle in, the sound of the river became deafening almost.

My friend mentioned that she couldn't hear anything around us because of the river. and it made her feel antsy. We talked for a while, and it quickly became clear that both of us had been on the edge since the guys had left. The problem was, we never saw them head back down the canyon. We had no idea where they'd gone, and that feeling of unease kept creeping back into our minds. I can't really explain it, but both of us knew. We had to leave, and we had to leave now.

It wasn't just the weird questions of the way they seemed to be sizing us up. It was the gut feeling that something wasn't right. We had both been alone and vulnerable in the woods, and we realized those guys had asked exactly the right questions to know that we were alone and unprotected that night. Maybe nothing would have happened. Maybe they were just some harmless hikers, or maybe they were just looking for company.

But that feeling, that gnawing sense of danger, was too strong to ignore. We grabbed what we could, packed up as fast as we could, and left the campsite without looking better. back. We never saw those guys again, but I'll never forget that sinking feeling, the one that told us that we had narrowly escaped something we couldn't even fully comprehend. I don't know if they intended to harm us that night, but I do know that we were lucky to leave when we did.

This happened shortly before weed was legalized in Germany. In Berlin, regulations were already fairly relaxed, and as long as you didn't explicitly bother anyone, you usually wouldn't get arrested for smoking in public. I've been smoking daily for years. I know it's not great, but that's besides the point, so I can function pretty well while stoned. However, I almost never smoked in public, partly to avoid trouble, but mostly because I prefer the comfort of my own home. One late night, around 3 a.m., I was chilling online with friends, ready to call it a day. I wanted to unwind with a joint and one of my favorite shows, but I had

no snacks left. Determined to end the night properly, I decided to head to a nearby Shpeti, a small convenience store similar to a 7-Eleven. At that hour, only the sketchiest ones were still open, often operating illegally. I grabbed my coat and keys but hesitated before leaving. Why not make this cold walk a little bit more enjoyable, I thought, rolling a small joint. I lit it as I stepped outside, braving the freezing breeze. The area I live in is pretty rough, mostly foreign residents, many from Arabic countries. Poor integration has led to high crime and violence, but I was in good spirits as I strolled through the flickering neon sign of the Shpeti. Just one more intersection to cross.

A group of men stood at the corner. They look Middle Eastern, a bit older than me, and watched as I walked by. It felt normal, nothing unusual. I crossed the street already a little high without giving them much thought. Then I heard a voice behind me. Routine ID check. Please show me your identification. My heart sank.

Of course this had to happen the one time I smoke in public. I thought, turning to face the police. But they weren't police. It was the group from the intersection, now slowly approaching me. Routine ID check. Please show me your ID. We're undercover cops. One of them said with a very smug grin.

I froze. It was clear they weren't cops. None of them showed identification and their demeanor gave them away. You know smoking weed is illegal, don't you? The man continued. His pupils enormous. And it was obvious that they had no authority. whatsoever. And they began circling me.

Show us what's in your pockets, the leader demanded. So, it's a robbery, I thought. If I don't resist, maybe I'll only lose my phone in the few bills that I'd brought for snacks. Then, a wave of dread hit me. My weekly tips. About 300 in cash were also in my pocket. I've forgotten to deposit it earlier, and losing that money would wreck my budget for the month. what now as i slowly reached into my pocket the leader pressed me what's taking so long i pulled out an old pack of gum and some broken headphones hoping to satisfy them where's your wallet i need your ID he insisted now still fumbling too stubborn and stupid to hand over my tips i inadvertently noticed something that shocked me the glint of a glock tucked in his belt knives and metal rods are typical weapons around here, but a gun. That was insane, even by local standards. German gun laws are incredibly strict, and my adrenaline spiked. Slowly, I pulled out the five-euro bill that I'd planned to

use for snacks, trying to keep my expression neutral. You got no wallet? He growled, his face darkening, and my brain screamed at me to do something, anything before this escalated further. Then, a desperate thought flashed through my mind. The Arabs in this area were known to fear Russians due to frequent clashes between the two groups, and maybe, just maybe, I could use this to my advantage. In a very heavy Russian accent, I stammered, My friends have my wallet. They're coming soon. We'll meet here.

And to my surprise, their poor English comprehension worked in my favor. They exchanged glances, muttered. in German and decided to wait, and I forced myself to look confused, keeping up the bluff. It worked, though. Their effort to figure me out seemed too much trouble, and the leader finally pointed at the five-year-old bill. All right, then, you get us something to drink. Reluctantly, I followed them into the Shpeti. They grabbed a six-pack of Coke, and I paid. My heart was pounding, and I was sure that this wasn't over. That they'd search me or retaliation, when my non-existent friends didn't show up.

But then, just like that, they left. No violence, no further questions, nothing. I stood there in shock, unable to process what had just happened. Now, looking back, I can't believe I bluff my weight of such a dangerous situation. It could have been my last day on earth, all for 300 euros. I've learned my lesson, and these days I avoid walking around late at night when And the streets are empty. I used to do a lot of solo. I used to do a lot of solo's survival stuff during the wintertime.

And this is the story of me. my final trip before I decided it wasn't such a good idea anymore. It was midwinter, the ground was almost frozen solid, and there was a slight dusting of snow on the ground. It was cold, but it was a dry kind of cold, which, from experience, is the best you can ask for. I've been walking through the woods for hours, armed with my shotgun while looking for birds and not really having any luck. And then after about another hour of walking, the trees thinned out and I came across a alley. It wasn't part of the plan, but it looked like a decent enough shortcut, a narrow trail cutting through a ravine, leading to another clearing on the other side. The day was getting

late, and I didn't want to waste time circling around, and since the slope down looks steep, but manageable, I figured, why the hell not? I started down, my boots crunching in the frost, but making my way down without slipping made for much slower going than I first thought. And the longer I took, the darker it got. As the walls of the ravine rose up either side of me and the trees and the shadows closed in, I felt the cold getting into my bones. But it wasn't just the cold giving me a chill. Something about this place felt wrong.

And that's when I saw him. He was standing still as a statue in the middle of the trail, maybe 50 yards ahead of me. He had some kind of civilian AR in his hands held at the ready, like he was standing still as a statue. like he was waiting for something. And when I saw him, I froze. It didn't look like any kind of camper or hiker I'd ever seen. His clothes were filthy, layers of mismatched jackets and pants that barely hung on his skinny frame. He was gaunt, like he hadn't eaten in days, and those eyes were just sunken and very dark,

and they immediately locked on me in a way that made my stomach twist into a knot. At that moment, I couldn't move. my brain was screaming at me to turn around and run but my legs wouldn't listen i still had my shotgun on my shoulder and i could feel it slipping a little the thought of it slipping off of my shoulder filled me with a kind of dread i'd never felt before because i thought if that happens he might think i'm trying to aim it at him at which point he might just be skittish enough to open fire on me and not wait and see if i'm just some dumb idiot who let his gun slip from his shoulder slowly i adjusted the strap of the of my shotgun, careful to make my movements deliberate and non-threatening. The armed man still didn't move, and the air felt heavy. It was almost pressing down on me. I wanted to say something, anything, but my whole mouth felt like it went and locked up on me, and it forced myself to take a step back, and then another, watching him watch me. I didn't run. I knew that it'd be a bad idea. Every step I took was slow, deliberate, and the crunch of my boots in the snow sounded

almost too loud. The man didn't follow, but he made his presence felt, and it was like I could still feel his eyes on me even after the trail curved, and I could no longer see him. When I finally made it out of the valley, the cold seemed to lift, and the world felt normal again. I didn't stop moving until I was far enough away to consider it a safe distance, but even so, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was behind me, watching me from the trees. That night, sitting by the fire, I couldn't stop replaying it in my head. Deer season wasn't open. AR-15s aren't legal for hunting around here, and he didn't look like a hunter. Hell, he didn't even look like he belonged out there at all. He seemed to me more like a man who hadn't been part of the world in a long time,

such a long time that something else had taken his place. The next morning I drove into town and reported it to the sheriff who listened, nodded, and then said they'd check it out. And weeks went by, and I never heard back from him. I haven't gone back to that valley since. I can't shake the feeling that he wasn't hunting deer or anything else. Whoever was down there didn't want me in that valley, and I'm only too happy to oblige him. I was about 13 when this happened, and I lived right on the beach. If you walked about 1.5 kilometers down the beach from my house, you would get to a place where some ocean would be left behind to form a sort of lake,

where me and a lot of my friends like to hang out, and next to it were two dirt roads. Now, anyways, I had a German shepherd, and my mother used to kick me out of my house every weekend for a few hours to go play with a dog, which I did not mind. There was a cliff above the beach, which you could take a walk to the lake which was overlooking the beach, but covered in forest, and on that day it was particularly hot. So I chose to spare me and my dog a hot walk and walked up into the forest. Now, I've done this many times before and wasn't afraid at all. As I was walking, I heard muffled footsteps behind me.

My dog was far ahead of me, off-leash, and I quickly realized that something had to be sneaking up behind me because it was nearly impossible to walk silently on the dry foliage here. I quickly made a run for it toward the exit of the forest, seemingly hearing the footsteps become more audible behind me. No worries, though. I was out at the lake now, and it was plain, open, and I could have to be able to be able, and I could I'd already spot a girlfriend of mine there. My dog was already in the water as I went to greet my friend when we noticed a large man approaching us. He must have been close to two meters tall and very slim.

He started talking to us both very kindly and without knowing any better, we were polite back to him. At the time, I didn't associate the footsteps with this man, but later grew to understand. He asked us a lot of questions, where we were from, if anyone was there with us, and so on. Slowly, my friend and I started to get creeped out. We said her goodbyes, claiming we had to meet other friends and move further down the lake. We sat down for a bit and started talking when my dog began growling. She never growled, so this took me by surprise.

I looked to see what she was growling at, and lo and behold, the man was standing about 50 meters behind us. My friend and I caught on quickly and moved again. The same thing happened, but this time he was closer. By now, we were freaked out. We were being followed, and we were all alone. My friend called her mother to come pick us up, but she was at least an hour away. That meant that we were stuck with this creep for an hour.

And the more we moved, the closer he came. I leashed my dog by then, as she was going completely rabid towards this guy. And every time we looked at him, he seemed to smile back as if though we were close friends. He tailed us for a while until we saw my friend's mother's car arrive on the dirt. road and the road was about 200 meters from us and to get there we had to cross where the man was standing we were terrified her mother saw the situation and started running over which caught the man's attention giving us a chance to dash i don't think i've ever run that far and that fast in my life my dog was now running with us as i let her leash go and when we got to the car we hastily

jumped in just as the man started to run towards us we stayed in the car while my friend's mother called 1-12 and waited inside. That's 911 around here. The man threw rocks at the car and wailed at us before eventually running off as the police did arrive. And when the police got there, they questioned everyone in search for this guy but were never able to find him. I'm still terrified of the forest around that area, terrified that he might be waiting for us. I didn't know my friend would be there that day and I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't been there. I didn't have a phone or any form of contact and I'm pretty sure if he had gotten to me, he would have overpowered me and my dog.

I was pretty young when I went camping with my dad in Alabama during the winter. We'd set up camp late in the afternoon, and the fire had burned down to a few glowing embers by the time night had settled in. The woods around us were very silent, the usual rustling of leaves muffled by the frost, and everything felt eerily still. We were getting ready to crawl into our sleeping bags when we heard it, a low, bone-chilling, rasping coming through the trees. At first we just looked at each other My dad tried to brush it off Must be the wind, he said Though his voice was a little tight, I think

And we listened for a moment Trying to convince ourselves that it was nothing But then it came louder And louder this time The sound was unmistakable A very low, drawn out, grown That seemed to drip through the trees Like it was carried on the wind

And then, one more time A third one, so eerie that had sent a shiver down my spine. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it wasn't normal. My dad grabbed the flashlight, and I grabbed a big stick, following behind him like I was ready to defend him if something went wrong. We moved very cautiously. The cold air was stinging our face as we made our way through those woods,

and eventually, we found her. A woman lying on the ground not far from our campsite. She was on a hill. Her head was facing downward in her feet uphill, and her body was still, except for the occasional moan that escaped from her lips, and it felt like the whole forest was holding its breath around us as we watched. I felt an unease settle in my gut, the kind that you get when something doesn't feel right, but you can't put your finger on it. My dad knelt down next to her, shining the flashlight in her face. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused, and her clothes were wet from the snow and car. old, and when she spoke, her words were slurred, almost incomprehensible.

We soon pieced together her story. She had been camping with her boyfriend, but they got into a fight. He'd dripping off, leaving her alone in the woods with no way to get back to civilization. And in her drunken stupor, she had seen the last glow of our fire from a distance and decided to bring us the rest of her firewood. But in the icy cold, she tripped and fell, too weak to get back up. The groaning had been her only way to try and call out for help, but her condition made it hard for her to do much more than that. We helped her to her feet, though it was clear that she was in no condition to do anything but sit.

We got her back to her campsite, making sure that she wasn't going anywhere in the dark, not that she really could have, with alcohol clouding her senses, and told her to just wait it out until hopefully her boyfriend came back in the morning. It was a very strange moment, knowing that we had just stumbled onto someone who seemed to, be lost in her own misery and maybe almost died as a result. And once we knew that she was safe, we returned to our camp, but I couldn't shake the image of her just lying there, groaning in the darkness, and who knows what would have happened to her. My name is Jules, and this story took place in 2022.

At the time, I was a business school student, but my English skills needed improvement. And to address this, I decided to take a gap year and move to Toronto, Canada, for intensive language courses. Since the costs were high, I found a shared apartment with other students. The apartment had three-bedroom. one of which was still vacant, waiting for a new tenant. My roommate, Sondro, was Swiss-German, tall, almost two meters in weighing 120 kilos, but incredibly friendly, and we quickly became friends. A few weeks later, Sondro mentioned that he was going on a week-long road trip through Canada's national parks. We planned to leave early on a Saturday morning, while I had been informed that the new student would arrive that same day at around 3 p.m.

Sondro left the apartment at 10 a.m., leaving me alone to await the newcomer. Hours passed. 3 p.m., 4 p.m., 8 p.m., 10 p.m. Still, no one. I grabbed something to eat, watched a show on Netflix, and eventually decided to just call it a night. Around midnight, I was startled awake by Knox on my apartment door. I heard someone entering. That must be the new student, I thought, grogly, as an unfamiliar.

your voice explained the apartment's layout. Too tired to investigate, I stayed in bed and drifted back to sleep. A few minutes later, there were knocks on my bedroom door. Once, then again, about 10 minutes later, thinking there might be a problem I reluctantly got up. Standing in the doorway was a young Japanese woman, around 25 years old. I quickly explained a few details about the apartment and we exchanged Instagram handles and then retreated to our respective rooms for the night. Over the following days, she frequently asked me to accompany her on bus or subway rides. I happily helped, showing her stops and landmarks before returning to my usual routine of classes and gym sessions.

But gradually, her behavior became unsettling. Every evening when I came home, she would either message me or find reasons to talk to me in the apartment. and the atmosphere grew increasingly tense. One evening, while lying on my bed, I noticed her standing on the shared balcony outside my window. She was leaning against the railing, staring at me with a very piercing gaze. When she realized that I had noticed, she quickly turned away and went back into her room. Uneasy, I tried to brush it off as a coincidence.

Later that night, just as I was falling asleep, I glanced out the window again. She was still there, watching me. and our eyes met briefly before she vanished. This pattern continued for several nights. Each evening I would catch her on the balcony, staring intently at me, and each time she disappeared as soon as she realized that I'd seen her. Then the night before my departure, things escalated. I had to wake up early for an appointment and left my room at 5.30 a.m.

The apartment was silent and dark, except for the faint glow from under the bathroom door. As I brush my teeth, I heard soft footsteps behind me. She emerged from her room, moving silently across the wooden floor. Instead of turning back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, sitting on the closed toilet. She stared at me, motionless, and her expression blank. The moment stretched into an oppressive silence. And finally, I mustered the courage to leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I returned to my room slowly.

unsettled and unsure of her intentions. And that night as I was having dinner in my room, I saw her through the window again, staring inside. I looked away hoping that she would leave. And later, at 3 a.m., I woke abruptly from a nightmare. And turning my head, I saw her still on the balcony, her wide eyes fixed on me. And this time she didn't vanish. She remained motionless, like a statue, before suddenly turning and running inside. side. My heart raced as I rushed to lock my door, and moments later I heard her trying the

handle, gently at first, and then more forcefully. Holding my breath, I stayed silent until everything went still, and by morning I was ready to leave for France. She was gone, and I never saw her again. To this day, I'm not sure what her intentions were. Perhaps she was just fascinated by me. My build is far from typical for a Japanese person. It was my first time trying to sleep in a hammock, and I didn't have a rain tarp yet, so I was completely exposed to the elements, save from my big sleeping bag. The trip was organized by a local camp, so I wasn't alone. There were about six other teens camping with me.

One of the kids made a decision that would come back to haunt us, though. He figured, hey, chocolate isn't really smellable, right? And he left his chocolate bar in his pack, right next to mine, both of them tucked under our hammocks. You can probably already guess where this is headed. Now around midnight, I was started awake when something began nudging the pack beneath me. My mind was too groggy to process what was happening at first. I thought it was just one of the other kids rummaging around in their pack trying to find something. I could feel the soft brush of the pack as it shifted around and even the slight jostling of the hammock. But then, the bumping didn't stop. In fact, it kept pressing

against me. I shifted my hammock, grogly thinking that it was just someone moving around in the middle of the night, and that's when I felt it. Something bigger than a kid brushing against the side of my hammock. I was just about to ask what was going on when I heard a low rustling sound. It took a few seconds from my brain to catch up with what was happening, and then I felt the unmistakable weight of a large animal pressing against the side of my hammock. I froze, heart pounding in my chest. A juvenile black bear no more than a couple of feet away had wandered into our campsite. It was sniffing around, clearly after that chocolate, and was so close that I could feel its back bumping against the fabric of my hammock with every movement.

The bear must have realized that the hammock was moving because it suddenly reached up with one massive paw and gave the hammock a swipe, like a cat batting and a string. The force of the swing sent my hammock rocking, and I was thrown into complete panic, and I finally screamed. loud. I knew immediately it wasn't another camper. It was a bear. The rest of the campsite woke up in an instant and we scrambled, yelling and throwing rocks at the bear until it finally ran off into the dark woods. My heart was still racing long after that bear disappeared and all I can think about was how close I came to being swatted or worse. The kid who left his chocolate out learned a hard lesson that night. He received a severe punishment, but honestly we were all

just relieved that the bear didn't decide to stick around any longer. And after that, I never forgot to take care with food and bear country, and I never camped without a proper rain tarp again. Way back in 2015, myself and two friends of mine decided to go on a camping-slash-hiking vacation on the PCT. We'd gone on a couple of camping trips before, but it wasn't until 2015 that we got the itch to do something a little more epic than just camping next to a lake and fixing some barbecue. We planned the trip for late winter, so the weather would be clear and the trails would be in good, condition. Then after some discussion, we agreed on a starting point of Echo Lake near South Lake Tahoe, and then finishing a Donner Pass up near Truckee, which is about 70 miles and a total of

five days hiking and camping. Since we'd be camping in desolation wilderness, we had to get permits ahead of time. But that was all relatively easy to arrange, and the allotted five days meant that we wouldn't require resupply and could avoid civilization for the entire hike. Everyone thought that we were nuts, because obviously a 70-mile week-long hike isn't most people's idea of a vacation. But by the time the date of the departure rolled around, I remember us all being raring to go. It wasn't just a chance to really test ourselves and all that other macho stuff. It was a chance to spend some quality time together. And as we got older, those chances were becoming fewer and further between. And so on the first day, we started at Echo Lake.

The trail was beautiful right from the beginning, winding through 10 miles of alpine-like terrain before we arrived at Aloha Lake, which might be one of the most stunning places I've ever camped. The lake is surrounded by these dramatic granite peaks, and the water's so clear it's almost crystalline. It was the perfect spot to settle in for the night, and as we sat around the campfire that night, I remember thinking how the decision to go on that trip might have been one of the best of our entire lives. Day 2 was a little tougher, but again, it was 100% worth the effort. We covered 13 miles in total on the journey to Middle Velma Lake, and the highlight was definitely climbing up Dick's Pass. If you managed to read that without laughing, then I'm taking that as proof that you're AI. Just kidding.

Dick's Pass was the highest point of the hike, coming in at almost 10,000 feet, so the views from the top were nothing short of unbelievable. It was very tiring, but every time we got close to exhaustion, and someone would reinvigorate us by making a Dick's Pass joke, which to this day still hasn't gotten old. And after that, it was most definitely downhill toward the lake, where we found a peaceful campsite by the water. Thankfully, Day 3 proved much more relaxing.

The trail went through forests and meadows, and I crossed a few small streams along the way, and it was one of those days where you can just zone out and enjoy being surrounded by nature. The trails were much easier than we expected them to. be after day two, so we made it to Richardson Lake much sooner than we expected. We found the perfect spot to make our camp, made ourselves some dinner, and then passed around a canteen full of bourbon while soaking in the atmosphere before drifting off to sleep. On day four, we had covered 13 miles to Barker Pass, and without a doubt, that day was the most stressful. We had to walk up along these ridge lines above Lake Tahoe, which was hardgoing thanks to the

accumulated fatigue of having been out there four days already. Then, despite the views of the lake being amazing, my fear of heights kicked in hard any time I got close to the ledge and dared to peek over. To my relief, the trail even led down toward Barker's pass and I felt much more comfortable being on even ground. Then once we made camp, one of my buddies announced that he had a little surprise for us. He decided to keep it quiet until we were past the roughest sections of the hike. but he'd hidden away a little baggy of mushrooms in his pack. Now, he was into that kind of thing, psychedelics, I mean, not in a big way, but enough for him to want to trip a little whilst out in the wilderness.

However, the only reason he didn't just chew them up and swallow them without saying anything was he'd brought enough for three. And I'd never done anything like that before. I don't turn down a cold beer at a barbecue, but I'd tried cigarettes and pot and hated both of them, so the idea of eating magic mushrooms in the middle of nowhere didn't exactly appeal to me at first. But then, after some discussion, I decided I'd take half. I don't know what measurement my buddy used, but he just gave me a clump of something dark and stinky

and then told me to rip it into pieces before swallowing them all one by one with water, like little pills. He said if I chewed them, I'd puke, and the whole thing would be a waste, so I did what he said. swallowed the little pieces of cap or stem or whatever it was and then waited for it to kick in. My buddy had assured me that I wouldn't go through anything remotely like how hysterical people described wild LSD trips. He said it'd be very similar to the feeling induced by pot, but much more intense and without the actual smoking part, which was the part that I really hated. He said I'd feel warm, fuzzy, giggly, and hungry, and he was exactly right.

I guess it was because I was someplace so secluded, feeling totally uninhibited with two of my best friends, but it actually turned out to be a hell of a lot of fun. We came up and down the shore of the lake, howling at the moon, laughing our asses off, and by the time things started to wear off, I thought I'd gotten away with only one minor hallucination. There'd come a point where, while walking back towards camp, I kind of lag behind my two buddies because I was looking up at the night sky. With zero light pollution, looking up at the night sky is trippy as it is, but on my little half dose of mushrooms, it was like seeing it for the first time.

I remember feeling like almost a little freaked out, because my brain was sort of like what you are seeing is a three-dimensional image, and I felt like I could see all the way out into the far frontiers of the universe. The next thing I know, I'm looking back down again, feeling almost dizzy, and as I try to get my eyes to focus, I see a figure standing maybe 40 yards away. I immediately shout, Hey, wait for me. And I start walking towards them. But the figure turns and walks off and what I realized was the direction that we'd just come from. I'd then hear my buddies yell from behind, Yo, this way, dude, come on. And just in case that wasn't clear, I was almost certain that I'd

seen someone behind us. Well, when I stopped to really think about it, the figure had kept looking at me as they'd been walking away, like with their neck totally turned around, exorcist style. Seeing as that was completely impossible, all three of us decided that, yeah, I might have just suffered a very minor hallucination, possibly on account of how zapped my vision was after staring up into the night sky for a few minutes. It was weird, but kind of expected. And since we were all in such good moods, we just laughed it off excitedly before returning to camp and getting some much-needed sleep.

The last day, I remember waking up feeling weirdly refreshed, considering how we'd spent some of our night. But it was a very welcome feeling, because that final stretch was a whopping 19 miles to dawn or pass, and if we didn't make it, we were going to have to spend an extra night in the wilderness, which was obviously something we hadn't planned for. We had to start at five in the morning and maintain an uncomfortable pace while staying on the move almost constantly. But somehow, we made it. It was easily the hardest day of all five. If we'd have known that the last one would have been so rough, we definitely would have left all the mushroom stuff to the final night. We might have started refreshed, but we ended up all blistered up and spent from covering 19 miles in a single day.

Yet all that being said, reaching dog. on her pass felt absolutely incredible. Granted, we'd fallen behind so badly that we had to walk 19 goddamn miles on that last day, but we set out on what we aimed to do in the time we laid out to do it. And as much as that wasn't exactly a Herculane feat, all three of us were very, very proud of ourselves. We found our final campsite, set everything up, and then went about rewarding ourselves by eating everything we hadn't munched through already

as the sun set and darkness. fell. At about 9.30, we were sitting around the fire contemplating retiring to our tents. Since it was coming to the end of the trip, we were starting to get pretty emotional. Not tears shedding emotional or anything like that, but a lot of bromant style like, I love you, man, and that kind of stuff. Then, as we're still sleepily sitting around the campfire, talking back and forth, we hear footsteps coming at us through the trees, just beyond the light of our fire. As you can imagine, this had us all very nervous, but still much less nervous than if we'd hurt four legs instead of two. We knew it was a person, so when the man walked into our

firelight, we weren't taken entirely by surprise, but we were still left wondering what he wanted, until he stopped and began to speak. Now, right away, we could tell just from the way the guy spoke that he was different. He talked like he had teeth missing. Or like he had something wrong with his mouth, and as he got closer, we saw what it was. It looked like a section of his lower jaw was just gone, with one side of his cheek kind of concave and sunken, and he walked with a slight but very observable limp. He said, Nice night for it, huh?

And after my body said, Sure is. Kind of nervously. The guy asked if he could join us round the fire for a few before he carried on his way. The guy looked to be alone, and although he looked a little sketchy with his grubby old clothes and his Sheldon from Big Bang Theory haircut, none of us saw the harm in letting him stay a while. One of my buddies asked him, You a hiker?

And he replied, I've been hiker around his house for my whole life. As he walked over and occupied a free space by the fire. And like I said, his clothes looked old and worn, and he had that weird. high hairline haircut, but the creepiest thing about him were his eyes. I don't know exactly what was going on with his lower jaw, but if he'd been in an accident or if he was born that way or whatever, but I couldn't consider something like that creepy, just sort of unfortunate, but his eyes looked black as coal dust and the low orange light of

the campfire. It was small, beady like a rat's eyes, and although they obviously weren't totally black. The way he squinted as he peered into the flames gave them a very unsettling, almost inhuman appearance. One of my buddies followed up his hiker question by asking if the guy lived around here, and he replied by saying that he and his family had lived out there a long, long time, drawing out the longs to make it sound as if they'd been there since the dawn of time. He said this while staring into the fire, giving me and one of my boys enough time to swap a look that said, uh-oh, this guy's going to get weird, isn't he? There was a brief pause, and then he looked up from the fire and asked us what we were doing out there. We just told him,

not going into specifics, of course, but enough to know that we were camping out there. He then asked if we were armed. To cut down on all the paperwork and whatnot, only one of us had applied for a DW firearms permit, which obviously meant only one of us could carry. But then to cut down on the overall weight that we were carrying, our gun guy picked the smallest, lightest weapon he could get his hands on, and that wasn't just some pop gun 22. So while we were technically armed, we didn't exactly go advertising that only one of us was packing and only something small at that. The guy knew straight away, though. As soon as my buddy said, yeah, we're armed. He started looking around as if to be like, oh yeah, where are your

rifles. We didn't have to say anything to prompt my buddy to tell him that he could only get a pistol permit, and I figured that we were about to get a lecture on how you should always carry a long gun while you're out in the wilderness. But the dark-eyed man just sort of laughed quietly, then stared off into the fire in silence for a second before asking, I've been telling any campfire tales? Now, seeing as we were closer to 30, than 12, we hadn't been telling any campfire tales. And since we'd known each other since middle school, me and my two buddies did a fair bit of reminiscing, telling stories from our teenage years and whatnot.

But we weren't talking about Bloody Mary, or telling stories about hook-handed killers, or women in white. We didn't even think of telling any spooky tales around the fire, and especially not when we're on a bunch of magic mushrooms. So that's what we told him. No campfire tales for us, and he then asked if we wanted to hear one. He looked over the fire at us, smiling this crooked smile as he waited our answers. Me and my two buddies then sort of looked at each other and then told the guy,

sure, why not? And the guy starts by telling us that it's a true story about a group of guys just like us who were out on a hiking trip along the PCT. The three friends walked for three days, then on the fourth night, the three dumb-ass city boys got drunk and started hooting and hollering down by the lake in disturbing the peace of the good folk who made their homes among the hills. And right there is where things got weird. As the dark-eyed man's descriptions of his characters grew progressively more contemptuous,

I started to suspect that maybe he was talking about us. He was calling those three city boys' sissies and queers and stuff like that, just pretending to live off the land while making a mockery of the way others were forced to live. but it didn't fully hit me that he was talking about us until he mentioned all the howling and screaming we did that night while we were on mushrooms. Don't get me wrong. We were mad when we realized that he was calling us all types of terrible stuff, but there was something that kept our mouth shut and allowed him to carry on speaking.

He has detailed knowledge of our trip, the number of days, the kind of terrain we faced. He hadn't just heard us that night while we'd been going crazy by the lake. this guy had been following us for days. But we'd also just hammered out 19 miles worth of hiking in a single day, which raised the question, how the hell had our limping friend been keeping up with us? And with all that going through our heads, we just kept our mouths shut and carried on listening to this guy's story,

and by that point, he was very pleased with himself on account of our reactions. He starts laughing at us, at how mad we were getting, and also how freaked out we were. all obviously were. But then the next thing, still in that roundabout way through telling his story, he starts talking about how dumb we are. He said how on their fifth night out in the wilderness, the three friends were sitting out by their campfire, being dumb as goddamn rocks because they weren't paying attention to their surroundings. And that's when this handsome stranger walks up to the boys and ask them to join by their fire. Seeing as these three are innocent as

Babes, they say, huh, dur, sure, come join us, mister. And so the stranger walks over and explains what hollow-headed morons they are, who are lucky to even still be alive. He was laying it on real thick by the end of it, throwing in way more insults and jibs than the ones I listed, and we three were starting to get really sick of the guy in his story. One of my buddies was like, all right, I heard enough,

and I think it's time you moved along, mister. But the guy just ignores him completely and carries on talking about us like we're not even there. He does this for about a minute longer than one of my buddies stands up, like an implied threat, and tells the guy to move along. The dark-eyed man stopped talking for a second, turned to look at my buddy and then starts up again. He said the three dumb hikers got so pissed off with a handsome stranger telling him like it is that they even contemplated kicking the guy's ass. But that, according to the dark-eyed man, is when the three hikers realized that there was no way the handsome but clubbed-footed stranger had been following them,

at least not alone anyway. And that's about the same time they realized that attacking the handsome stranger might not be a very smart move, not if he had a bunch of his cousins waiting in the darkness just beyond the firelight, all with enough boom to send the hikers off to the big sleep, without him even knowing what hit him. That's why, when the handsome stranger was done speaking, the three little hiker boys just sat there on their asses like three little bitches and watched the handsome stranger, whose family had lived in those hills for a long, long time, stand up, and walk away.

Then to finish his story, the guy says, see around, boys. Then just gets up, and just like the story, walks off without ever looking back at us. But then, as he's walking away, we don't just hear his footsteps. We hear what could have been a dozen more, all walking with an earshot after he disappeared beyond the firelight. We didn't sleep there that night. With a gun at the ready, we walked out of there with our flashlights in hand and walked a few more miles before we felt safe enough to pitch our tents again.

But even so, we still couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. I'm not proud of this. I'm not proud of any of this. I have a big family and we're super close, and when I was in high school, my aunt was dating this guy who seemed really wealthy, but no one really knew what he did. I think really anyone could have guessed, though. I asked my aunt to introduce me to her boyfriend, and we talked about how I could work for him. Without going into too much detail, he agreed to let me work for him, and I sold to some people I knew. I went to high school in an area where drugs were pretty common.

I knew a few boys who claimed that they were already using this stuff, so I offered to sell it to them. And surprisingly, they placed really big orders. I didn't ask any questions. I just sort of went along with it. I was making about three grand a month from this. Not enough to retire or anything, but definitely more than most 17-year-olds made. I never made a point to flaunt my money or anything like that. I thought that I kept it well hidden. At least, I hoped I did. What bothers me is that there's no way of knowing, really. And one Saturday morning, I walked over to my friend's house, for a birthday party. It wasn't a wild one or anything, just a cute little breakfast. On my way home, a guy I'd never seen before pulled over and got out of his car. He was well dressed and a bit

older. When he got out, I thought he was a cop and he was kind of acting like one, and I was ready to surrender because I didn't think that I could actually make an escape. But then he pulled out a switchblade and told me to give him my purse. He said something like, don't act dumb, girl. I know you have money. It's okay. We can make this easy if you just give me your purse. I can't really explain why, but that felt like such a cop-like thing to say. I don't know if you've been in a situation like that before. I hope you haven't, but you kind of just freeze when someone surprises you like that. It's not exactly fear. Your body just doesn't know how to react. I almost think my body didn't let me get too scared because if it did, I might have had a heart attack, and it was like my body

he was saying, wait until it's safe, and then panic. First, I felt relieved that he wasn't actually a cop, so thank goodness for that. Second, when he said it was okay, that we could make it easy, it actually did calm me down a bit. And so I managed to say, okay, can I just give you my cash? My purse has my phone and pictures and other stuff. And he said okay to that. I opened my purse and took out all the cash, which was about $200, and he watched me closely as, and he watched me closely as I did it. He took the money and said something like, if you tell anyone, I will find out. And then he left, and I felt surprisingly calm the rest of the walk home. The next morning it hit me that I had been mugged, and that's when the panic set in, and I started shaking and

crying. Even as I'm writing the story now, it gives me chills. I'd never seen that guy before, and when he said, I know you have money, I don't know if he meant that he knew about it. I don't know if he meant that he knew about my dealing or if he was just trying to scare me. Honestly, I'm really glad this happened because it made me get out of that business at that right time, and things were only going to get more dangerous from there. It's still scary thinking about it, but that guy saved me without even realizing it. I told my aunt's boyfriend what had happened and that it was too scary to keep doing this. He told me to send all my customers to him instead, and I did, and that was the end of it for me.

It's been almost 10 years now and I haven't looked back since. here or somewhere else, but I want people to learn from my mistakes. For context, when this happened, I was 17, I'm now 18, and this was right before I turned 18. I was on a lot of apps to help me make friends as I'm autistic and struggle making friends IRL. I'm femme, but trans, F to M, still M and also asexual, so because of the nature of these apps, I stated that I was asexual in my bio. I also stated other things like my interests. And then I met this one guy who lived maybe an hour away, and I was looking for a friend to smoke with, and he said he would. I know, I know. I was very naive, and nonetheless, we planned a time and I waited outside for him.

He brought me a wine cooler, and we took turns hitting his cart. We had deep, meaningful conversations and immediately clicked, which I thought was amazing. At least until a bit later when I was very high. I tend to be impulsive, and I don't know my limits well. and it was getting very cold, so I told him that I should get back inside. He agreed and started walking me toward my window. I was stumbling, unable to see straight, and once we were in my driveway, he asked for a hug before leaving. Now, thinking it was kind of cute, I gave him that hug.

But the next thing I knew, he was behind me, with a knife to my neck. At first I tried to fight back, but I quickly realized it was getting me nowhere and only causing me more harm. In that terrifying moment, I thought that I was going to become just another true crime murder victim, and so I stopped fighting. I started listening to him, hoping that he'd spare my life. At the same time, I tried to leave as much evidence as possible in case listening didn't save me. But then, I noticed scars on his thighs. Somehow I managed to appeal to some part of his humanity, and my exact words were, I see your scars. You're just like me. You're hurting. But this isn't going to stop the hurt. It will only soothe it temporarily. I don't know how I was

able to think so logically in such a panicked state, but it ended up saving my life. He let me go, but only after I agreed to meet him again. I agreed just to get out of the situation. and then went inside and tended to my cut thumb. And after that, I blocked him on everything, but kept his messages on my phone in case I ever found the courage to go to the police. Of course, I never met up with him again and never will, and what scares me the most is how much we had in common,

our mentality and personality. I know predators like him often say things they don't mean, but our deep conversations had felt so real. When I was around 13 or 14, I went to Applebee Festival in England with my family. My family comes from the gypsies, but all now living. in houses and they no longer participate in gypsy culture and i was not brought up as a gypsy but they decided that we'd all go to this festival now as young teens my cousin and i who were the same age decided to wander off and do our own thing we met a group of guys the same age as us and decided

to hang around with them we reached the outskirts of the festival when suddenly one of the guys picks me up and tries to drag me into the bushes i have always been pretty strong for a petite female who's only about five foot nothing and fought for my life i elbowed him in the face and kicked him multiple times as hard as i could everyone including my cousin was in shock and was just staring at this going on and didn't do anything and i finally managed to get away and ran as fast as i could i have no idea what would have happened if i couldn't fight that way i don't know if he was going to essay me or grab me and turn me into his wife which i guess is pretty well known within gypsy culture. And 10 years later, this still scares me, and I've never been to a festival like that

again. I figured that since I have binged and completed all of your podcasts, then what better time to submit something myself in the meantime? I have two different stories, both true and I can link news articles to confirm these events, but for now, I want to tell everyone the encounter my dad had a few years back. I want to clarify for this event that I was not there since I haven't lived in my hometown for over a decade now, but my dad, 67, around the time of this encounter in 2021, lives in Frederick, Virginia. Not a huge city or town, but it does lie just south of Washington, D.C., so hearing this honestly shocked me tremendously. My dad is known in our neighborhood as a very kind man, while myself and my older sister no longer live in the state, and he still proceeded to take his dog's scooter for walks every morning. This consisted of walking down to my old bus stop, which

means that all the kids and parents eventually grew to know my dad and Scooter pretty well. He told me that, there, for a short period of time, he would see this blonde-haired teenager walking down the street with his backpack. I honestly can't recall if he said this kid was actually a student or not, so I can't confirm if this kid was a regular at this bus stop or not. But my dad had apparently seen him often enough that nothing spiked any red flags. It was the same encounter every time they crossed paths. They would exchange helloes, scooter would get a few minutes of pets, and they would go their separate ways after a few minutes of small talk.

Hearing this, I didn't really think anything about it. I mean, our neighborhood was relatively safe the entire time that I lived there, and nothing really big ever happened. But when he told me this next part, I was speechless. He told me that it took him a few weeks for him to realize he hadn't seen that teenager and he soon found out why. During one of his regular walks with Scooter, the neighbor had stopped him to talk to him. My dad mentioned in passing that he hadn't seen that kid in a few weeks. My neighbor then informed him that's because the kid had been arrested with two other people. The reason?

Murder and dismemberment of a 20-year-old who was discovered in the woods. By the time my dad had finished the story, I couldn't say anything. my small hometown which had always felt and looked so safe to me during my childhood was now something that danger had intruded upon i've been meaning to visit my dad who still lives in the same house that i spent most of my childhood in but i think this whole event is still sitting in my subconscious almost stopping me from returning link below is the news article that i looked up after getting off the phone with my dad and the mugshot is just as creepy that's the time that my dad's the time that my dad encountered a killer without knowing. The Spotsylvania County Sheriff's Office found the remains

of 20-year-old Dylan Dakota Wetzel in the woods on February 1st. Now three suspects have been indicted for over 20 charges each, including murder by mob and physically defiling a dead human body. According to her release from the Sheriff's Office, Dominic M. Samuels, Brennan E. Thomas, and Bronwyn-C. Meeks have all been charged in connection to Wetzel's death. They are currently being held at the Rappahannock Regional Jail. Special prosecutor David Sands is handling the case in court. Wetzel's body was found in a wooded area near Pamunkey and Finney Road, in the western part of Spotsylvania County.

I wanted to write out what happened to my dad and I tonight to help others who happen to be driving on Interstate 19. For background, we recently moved to Arizona a week ago, but have had to sleep at the rest area until we find an apartment. It's just been my dad and I for close to 10 years now, and never before have we felt in danger as we did tonight. 7 o'clock rolled by, signaling to us, it was time to head to the rest area to unwind before sleep just like previous night. However, this night would turn out to be more than anything we could have ever imagined. As we were on our way there, we had to get off the freeway exit to turn on to the other side of the freeway. As we were about to get back on, I saw a truck. weighed off in the distance with its lights on. I didn't think anything of it until I realized that the

truck started to follow us, and I thought to myself, that's strange. After about 30 seconds, my dad had realized the driver was indeed following us as the headlights were right on us. My dad pulled over on the left side of the freeway and put us emergency lights on unsure of what this driver's intentions were. The driver of the truck pulled over on the right side of the freeway causing the oncoming cars to pull to a complete stop. The driver opened up the door and immediately a trucker began to honk wildly. In that moment, my dad, sensing something bad might actually happen, floored it, picking up speed very fast.

The driver followed suit and was hot on our tail. This person did not seem to have any good intentions. And this is when I got on the phone with 911, but because of the connection, it took over a minute to connect. When it did, I told the operator that we were being chased by a driver with very bright headlights and it would look to be a dark-colored pickup truck. Mind you, while I was on the phone with 911, my dad was driving down the side roads in excess of 100 miles per hour.

Desperately wanted to escape this driver, my dad turned off all the lights on the car while going at top speed. The truck's headlights began to fade gradually. And feeling that we were about to lose this truck, my dad swerved around two corners and put the pedal to the floor for another minute. We realized then that we had lost the driver, and to be doubly sure, my dad drove another five miles and pulled off an exit. We drove to the nearest Walmart and stayed there for an hour,

as per the operator's instructions. I know some may say that the driver could have been trying to maybe tell us something, but when you're in a pretty sketchy situation, especially at night, it's always better to be safe than sorry. Hey, friends, thanks for listening. Don't forget to hit that follow button to be alerted of our weekly episodes every Tuesday at 1 p.m. EST. If you haven't already, check out Let's Read on YouTube, where you can catch all my new video releases every Monday and Thursday at 9 p.m. EST. Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you in the next episode.