The Lets Read Podcast - 56: Episode 049 | Vacation & Black Eyed Kid Stories | 28 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: November 18, 2019

Welcome to the forty ninth episode of The Lets Read Podcast! This podcast includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Vacations, Black Eyed Kids, & Kidnappings.  HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON- ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ♫ Background Music: Iron Cthulhu Apocalypse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFvrqVSJE8E PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead 

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Same game, parlay, it's all fine You'll put a smile on your face Bet on the sports you love with BetRivers Sportsbook. Take a chance! We'll be right back. so this was kind of a long one that takes place when i was a student at utep that's the university of texas at el paso for those of you that didn't know and it happens to be one of the best places to study engineering in the entire country, let alone the southwest. But what many of you will know is that El Paso is right across from the Rio Grande from its sister city, Ciudad Juarez. Back in the early 90s, there was none of the beefed up border security that exists now. Sure, the cartels were operating, and maybe I'm just remembering this

through rose-tinted glasses, but there just wasn't the same kind of senseless violence that affects the region today. The students that lived in El Chulco, what many Mexicans called El Paso, had a lot of respect and love for Juarez for one big reason, the drinking age. In a place where the drinking age was and is 21, we were like an hour's drive away from a foreign country where we could drink tequila and corona until we passed out, and no one would bat an eyelid. Getting over the border was a piece of cake, too. I can't speak for today, but back then you could just park your car on the American side, walk over a bridge, pay the toll, and boom, you're in liquor heaven. And now you understand why UTEP gets some of the highest application numbers in the country.

About the same time I was making my college applications, a buddy of mine went off to join the Marine Corps. We hadn't seen each other for years, so when he got back from a deployment to the Gulf, we organized for him to come down to El Paso for some much needed catching up. Only, he too had heard about the drinking age loophole and was insistent that we take advantage of it. Naturally, I agreed. So we're over in Juarez getting hammered and jamming with this mariachi band and some dive bar Having the time of our lives And somehow we get separated At this time I should add that I'd only ever been over to Juarez myself like twice previously

So it's not like I know my way around too well Stupidly I decide to go looking for my buddy Thanks to the booze I can't quite remember how but I ended up in this big square that's hosting a large gathering of people. Me being drunk assumes that this is just some kind of party, so off I go to join in with the revelry and practice my bad drunk Spanish, only it's not a party at all. And although the bad vibes come a little too late, boy that hit hard. I remember trying to just get out of the crowd, feeling super panicky when

I came across a large truck, Policia stenciled on the side. There were Mexican cops just tossing people into the back, beating them with batons before bundling them inside. I'll never forget the way this cop looked at me, pure hatred in his eyes as he lunged toward me. I'm not Latino or anything, but I do have dark hair and brown eyes, not exactly the most obvious gringo imaginable. So the fear I felt when I realized this cop just assumed I was a Mexican rioter or something. Jesus Christ, I'll never forget that feeling of helplessness. Yo soy americano, por favor no. Por favor, yo soy americano. I screamed, but my accent always was horrible. The cop didn't understand.

Maybe he did, but he just didn't care. But his only response was to beat me with the black baton he held tight in his fist. Before I knew it, I was stuffed into the back of a hot, stuffy police wagon with the group of terrified Mexicans. You have no idea how much it sucked, sobering up inside an overcrowded Mexican jailhouse where I could barely understand a single thing anyone was saying. From what I can remember, it was just this huge, concrete monstrosity on the outskirts of the city, and it was not like any US county jail I'd ever heard of. Instead of smaller cells or whatever, they basically just had these huge, caged-off yards that seriously had like hundreds of dudes thrown into them. I mean, some were like half a football field and still seemed overcrowded.

At first I thought I might be in luck, that they'd discover that I was an American tourist during the booking process and send me on my way, no harm done. My heart sank when I realized that there was no booking process as such, that they'd just throw you in with hardened criminals and deal with you when they're good and ready. I was screwed. I was pretty sure I'd end up getting beaten up, stabbed, or worse. But I was wrong. Thank God I was wrong. The only dudes who bothered to pay attention to me were just curious as to how I'd ended up there. Otherwise, the other prisoners just talked and sometimes fought amongst themselves.

My new amigos and myself could barely communicate, but thanks to the little bit of Spanish I took in high school, I could sort of get by. They offered me smokes and, through a series of complex hand gestures, established that they'd have my back for the presumably short time that I'd be there. Shout out to Miguelito. You're probably not reading this, but I'm eternally grateful. I end up being let out in the morning when they finally bring me out for booking. I thought the cops might be at least a little apologetic, but nope, they didn't care. Just sort of shrugged before showing me the door. So I'm a mess when they let me out of the jail. I'm hungover, I've not slept at all and I'm a nervous wreck from the entire experience. All I can think about is getting to the border and getting home. I mean I worry briefly about my marine buddy but then I remember he'd been to war and could probably look after

himself. I know it was selfish but like I said I was in a bad bad way. Only when I got to the toll bridge to get back to the states do I tap my pockets and realize at some point during my stay in the jail somebody had stolen my wallet and passport. I thought I was going to empty my stomach right then and there. I mean when people talk about feeling sick with fear or whatever, that stuff is for real. I know it wasn't the case but in those few moments I thought I'd be stuck in Mexico for the foreseeable future. Now I do love Mexico but it is not the place to be stuck with no money and barely any Spanish and there was no way I was going to spend a night on the streets in Juarez.

So, with my heart in my mouth, I started walking towards the toll booth hoping he might take pity on me and believe my story. Sometimes I think that the craziest part about the whole thing is that border security actually did believe me. They cross-checked some stuff, called the UTEP to ensure that I was in fact a student there, then just let me pass. Turns out that the whole losing your passport thing happened way more than I'd first thought. I think I was just too exhausted and scared to show any real emotion. I just trudged back to my car and drove back into El Paso, promising myself that I would never, ever drink tequila again. Back when I was a student, I went on a university-sponsored trip to Singapore.

With over 5 million people of varying ethnic backgrounds packed onto a small island off the coast of Malaysia, Singapore is one of the world's last great city-states. Everything about the trip was just phenomenal. A pure sensory assault for a bumpkin from the Midwest like me. Singapore is a foodie's heaven. Street food, hawker, culture was practically born there, and the locals take a great deal of pride in preserving traditional recipes that have been around for literally hundreds of years. It's clean, there's very little crime, and despite having a reputation as a heaving metropolis,

the island has a handful of nature reserves and public parklands where the masses can detox from city life for a few hours before returning to the fray. It's paradise. At least, it was, until the last night we were there. Being the last night, we decided to head over to Clark Key, which happens to be Singapore's main attraction when it comes to nightlife. It's a little more upmarket, with the kind of clubs that do bottle service and VIP booths, but we figured since we'd be slumming it all summer that we should go out with a bang. Clark's is a bit of a walk from the rented apartment I was sharing with my other people on our course, so we were stopping into little bars along the way.

By the time we got there, we were smashed. It was a brilliant night. Singapore never ceases to be a feast for the senses, but it was wild. We all drank way, way too much and the last thing I remember is getting into a taxi after puking up a bunch of flavored vodka. I'm not entirely sure how I got into my apartment but I must have done okay because a couple of hours later I woke up fully clothed in my own bed, reeking of vomit and booze. It was my phone buzzing irritatingly against the bedside table, collar restricted showing on the screen as I picked it up.

Confused, I answered groggily asking who was on the other end. I didn't recognize the voice, it certainly wasn't one of my fellow exchange students and in fairly broken English the voice on the other end asked if I knew two people he named. They were both the names of the people I shared the flat with when I answered yes. People on the other end of the line began talking in Malay to each other. I couldn't understand what they were saying at all so I asked again who was calling. The Malay man refused to give me his name or the location of my friends. All he would say was that he was with them and that they were alive, for now. The words chilled my blood, and with my head spinning from the hangover, I assumed the worst. They had been kidnapped. They had gotten blind, drunk, and lost in Singapore, and had managed to get themselves

kidnapped by the local mafia. That's when I freaked out. I started shouting down the phone, telling them that I was going to call the police, that they'd be dead men if they laid a hand on my friends, that I was an American and I'd make sure that they'd be in prison for the rest of their lives for this kidnap. The guy just laughed. Honestly, the eeriest, most spine-chilling laugh that I'd ever heard in my life. And what he said next made my head hurt. We are the police, sir. Your friends have been arrested. So it turns out that a pair of our number stupidly decided in their drunken stupor to walk back to the hotel along the waterfront. Unbeknownst to them, they ended up wandering into some highly

restricted military area around Singapore harbour. How they even got into somewhere like that is beyond me, but according to the police, that's just what they did. They're wandering around like morons, making a bunch of noise and generally being idiots, when out of nowhere a bunch of Singapore marines surrounded them with weapons drawn and take them into custody. They hand them over to Internal Security, Singapore's equivalent of the FBI where they're basically going to be charged with spying for a foreign power. They were separated and interrogated. One guy said guns were pulled on them in order to get them to fess up. They were taken to the walls of the ports and forced to explain how they scaled them, even asking if they had left any surveillance equipment behind the harbor. One cop told one

friend that the other friend had already confessed, so they might as well confess too. All kinds of horrific, barely legal stuff was pulled on them, probably just to make an example of a couple of drunk Americans. When the police hung up on me, I called around the rest of the foreign students to tell them what had happened. It caused a full-on panic. The police over in Singapore can be particularly brutal and cruel, as I knew too well, and there was a rush to ensure that our two arrested friends wouldn't end up like that kid in North Korea that got beat up so bad that he died. I'm not comparing the two countries, but I don't know. We were panicking. Like, really panicking. We were calling up every police station in Singapore as well as the American

embassy, asking everyone we could if they knew the fate of our friends. We had also made quite an extensive number of friends and contacts during our time there, and despite what our arrested friends experienced, Singaporeans can be exceptionally friendly, welcoming, and loyal. Our local friends went to work for us, using their knowledge to get to the heart of the problem. We think someone messed up their job at the port that day, left a gate open and rather than admit fault, they would get these young students to take the fall. Thankfully, neither of them gave up because God knows the punishment for espionage in Singapore at the time was most definitely death.

I suppose this story isn't as scary as some of the others, ones that involve actual local crimes, murders and the like. Maybe none of us were really in danger, but the feeling of powerlessness we felt that night, the pure fear of realizing just how small we really are, how helpless we can be, I'll never forget that. So please, if you go traveling or on vacation to someplace far, far from home, be on your best behavior. Not everywhere is as free or as fair as the United States, as terrifying as that may sound. Have you guys heard of Murphy's Law? It's the rule that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. And boy, is that a real thing.

A couple of years back, I was in Boca de Panama with a close friend of mine. First night there, we went out drinking with a group of people we'd met at the hostel we were staying in. I met a girl, we got talking and well, we happened to find ourselves looking for a quiet spot to get some personal time in. You see where I'm going with this. We're walking and chatting, just being drunk and silly as we're wandering along this dusty road when we come to a gas station and realize we're pretty lost. I decide I'll go in, buy some smokes, then ask the attendants there how to get back to our hostel. So I'm inside, drunkenly fluctuating between Spanish and English with the two attendants when the girl I'm with pops inside.

Apparently she's found us someone who will take us back to the hostel so I apologize to the attendants without getting directions and follow her outside into the forecourt. Only it's not a taxi that the girl has found. It's just some Panamanian woman with a white Chevy. But I'm not one to refuse the kindness of a stranger so at first I don't make anything of it and just get into the car. But when I look at the driver I start realizing that what we did was a very bad idea. She looked high as a kite and I'm pretty sure I could see a little coke dust around her nostrils but by that time she'd already driven off and it was sort of too late to say anything. Not only that but her car reeked of alcohol. I mean it seriously smelled like a distillery in there. After some driving around it becomes

obvious that the woman is completely nuts. She actually starts doing coke while she's driving in between rants in Spanish that seem to verge on manic episodes. Me and my gal pal are a little put off and asked to be let out. Driver pulls over and the girl who is sitting in the front jumps out. I'm just about to follow suit when the driver turns to me and says in plain English, I lost my kids today, stay with me a little while will you? This was a few years ago and I have grown up a lot since, but drunk me decided that I was making a great decision by staying in the car. I'm on the edge of blackout in a brand new town and so for a while I don't notice that this drunken woman is driving me way out of town. She makes a phone call and then a few

minutes later she pulls the car to the side of the road. I'm not joking when I say the largest man I had ever seen gets into the back of the car. He's Panamanian and thugged out from head to toe. He has dead eyes and coldly stares at me without saying a word. My drunk white Canadian self is sitting in the front seat. Through the liquor haze my brain is screaming, dude you're in Panama, no one knows where you are. You're alone with this terrifying human who hasn't spoken a word and a clearly messed up cokehead girlfriend. So I pull out my phone thinking now is a good time to get a hold of my buddy back at her hostel, but it's dead. Yep, I'd forgotten to lock the screen before putting it in my pocket and it had died. Stuff like that is why I hardly drink anymore.

So we are driving further and further out of town. The houses are getting big and spread out. We pull into a house that has Greek columns in the entryway and I am thinking to myself that I have been kidnapped. I am absolutely terrified at this point and maybe because I was so scared, but I just got out of the car and followed her inside. I didn't want to do anything crazy. I had no idea how she'd react if I just got out of the car and followed her inside. I didn't want to do anything crazy. I had no idea how she'd react if I just ran away. She takes me inside of this huge house that's just dripping with drug dealer chic. I mean, it really did look like whoever owned the place was trying to build a replica of the Tony Montana mansion from Scarface.

Marble columns everywhere. Huge garnish paintings of tigers and stuff like that. We walk into one room where sat at this huge dining table is this really twitchy looking Panamanian dude. He rises to greet me like we're long lost friends or something, calling me brother and actually hugging me. I knew he could tell how out of depth I was and I got the impression he was enjoying it. He offered me coke, weed, you name it. I politely declined them all and in a very roundabout way asked why I'd been brought here. He cuts to the chase and tells me he's a very successful drug runner with a network of contacts from Panama City to Michoacan and that

he is a favor to ask me. You know the way cartoon characters do like a big gulp when they're anxious or scared? Not a cliche, that actually happens, and the Panamanian drug runner has to stifle his laughter when it happened to me. He tried to calm me down, and assure me it wasn't a big deal, but then, without breaking a sweat, he explained that he wanted me to smuggle a kilo into the states for him. I think I just totally zoned out when he was explaining how I'd do it, imagining myself in an orange jumpsuit, my parents quietly crying as my sentences read out. There was no way I could go through with something like that, but I didn't think that was what my host wanted to hear. I pretended I was into the idea, asking how much money I'd

make from the run, whereabouts in the vehicle you could hide so much. Then I told him I'd be back in touch within a couple of days to confirm the departure date. He seemed delighted, gave me a burner cell phone he could call me on then told the cokehead woman to drive me back into town. The very next day I told the guy I was staying with that I was leaving. I didn't even bother to get in touch with the girl that I'd hooked up with the night before. She was drop dead gorgeous and I ghosted on her harder than a gay Casper. I was too scared to keep the phone but too scared to throw it away. I had gotten it into my head that the runner could use it to track me. I only tossed the thing when

I was back over the border in the US. Maybe I've watched too much Breaking Bad but I have zero regrets. I can imagine how much money that guy has and I know some of the messed up things people will do for money. Besides, he could have employed the weird logic and say I stole from him by not returning the phone. I don't know, I just didn't want to take any chances. I have never been back to Panama since. Sometimes I stop and think of the smallest little actions and how they have huge consequences. Meeting the wrong girl, getting into the wrong car, all can have the most disastrously unimaginable consequences. And I guess next year, my dad passed pretty suddenly. Heading back to our hometown for the funeral, my two younger sisters and I were reunited for the first time in years.

It felt amazing, feeling petty sibling rivalries just fall away once we realize what was truly important, being family. We get chatting on the night of the wake, reminiscing and stuff, when we make the joint decision to go on a family vacation together. A few months down the line and we've somehow managed to get the three of us to agree on a location, somewhere our dad has always talked about with great affection, a place called Verdero in Cuba. He'd taken our late mom there on a belated honeymoon a year or so after they'd married and the place was filled with happy memories for them. Maybe, just maybe we could visit Verdero and feel a connection with her parents' past. So myself and my two sisters, Rose and Jackie,

boarded a flight at Toronto Pearson that was headed directly to Havana, Cuba, seeking to escape another damp, squib Canadian summer for the sun-soaked beaches of the Caribbean. We were excited beyond words. It was the first real vacation any of us had taken in years, and we really had gone all out for it. But it took about an hour before we wanted to leave. We landed in Havana, and the weather is looking like it's about to turn. It was very hot and the sun was sweltering, but on the horizon was the biggest, most intimidating collection of storm clouds I'd

ever laid eyes on. I mean, they were huge. The kind of thing you'd expect to see in a Hollywood disaster movie. When we met our driver outside the airport, he explained in pretty good English that the storm wasn't expected to hit Cuba too hard and that it should be cleared up by morning. He was wrong. Over the course of the two-hour drive to Ver Veradero the storm began to encroach, so that by the time we reached the actual resort, heavy winds had been battering the

buildings to the point that the roof tiles were scattered all over the place. We were getting pretty concerned by this point, but the resort bar is still open and doing good business thanks to the weather, so we decided to grab a few drinks to pass the time. Mojitos, daiquiris, cubanitos. We sampled pretty much everything the menu had to offer us. Big mistake. By the time we leave to go back to our rooms, we're pretty smashed. Spirits are high despite the rain, so we're laughing and joking, singing songs in our bad Spanish, when all of a sudden, Rosie slips on a piece of roofing tile and goes down hard. Well, she doesn't exactly slip. According to her, an initial slip on her flip-flop on a damp, loose piece of tiling causes her footwear to become

stuck. This kinda whipped her leg back, causing her to land on it with all her weight. We hear the bone snap as clear as day. It was horrific, but not as horrific as Rosie's screams. It took about 30 minutes of screams, tears, and panicking resort staff before the Cuban ambulance finally showed up. Some people make a big deal about the quality of Cuban healthcare, but I can assure you, the reality is quite different. The ambulance was literally just a can with a wheelchair in the back. No stretcher, no monitors for vital signs, nothing like we were used to back in Canada. What's worse, the driver was a doctor himself.

The hospital was short-staffed that their own doctors were forced to drive the emergency vehicles themselves Speaking of the hospital We were horrified to find out that the closest clinic was over 45 minutes away in a place called Motanzas And when we get there, it's worse than we could have imagined The whole place is flooded thanks to the rainstorm And we certainly weren't the only ones to suffer an accident because of it. The place was heaving with wounded and injured people. There were bloody palm prints on the walls, smears of blood on the floors where people had been dragged inside.

The hospital staff were working so hard, but if there just wasn't enough of them every single one was rushed off their feet looking like they were about to snap under the pressure. Rose is still groaning in pain as we wheel her down flooded corridors. The doctors driving the ambulance were very kind and his English was almost perfect but he just didn't have the medicine to properly dull Rose's pain. What's worse, we were doing all of this in our bikini tops, nothing but wrap-around towels to cover up our lower halves. All these Cubans kept looking at us like crazy gringos or whatever, wondering why we were dressed for a party in what was obviously a crisis. The whole thing was stressful and embarrassing. We hadn't even converted our

money yet. When the staff wheel rose into the x-ray room my jaw drops at how terrible a condition the machine is. It looks like it was made in the 50s or something. It's ginormous, rusted and looked like it might come crashing down on whoever was unfortunate enough to be under it at the wrong time. Another doctor arrives. They complete the x-ray, then the doctor tells us they're going to try to set Rose's broken leg without any anesthetic. I honestly thought I'd heard him wrong. None of us could quite believe what he just said, but in his similarly near-perfect English, he explained that the hospital was short on anesthesia

and were saving it for high priority patients. What could be worse than a broken leg? We weren't sure, but the doctor was insistent that Rose would not be receiving any anesthesia. I cannot begin to describe the screams I heard. Jackie and I became so upset that a hospital security guard forced us to wait outside the room. The only seat available was next to an unconscious Cuban man. He was barely breathing, his head lolling back into his chair. I was pretty sure he was dying. Finally, after they set her leg, the doctor administers propofol just to knock Rosie out cold. They then explain they don't have the tools

to perform any complex surgery required to properly set Rosie's leg, and we needed to get home, and fast. The next flight back wasn't until 8pm the next night. Add the fact that the only wheelchair on the resort was too small to barely function. Our dream vacation had literally turned into a waking nightmare of pain, sleeplessness,

and soul-crushing panic. We made it back in one piece, but Rose now has a permanent steel rod in her thigh and has been strongly advised to have gastric bypass surgery in order to reduce to a weight her weak leg can support. Please be very, very careful when you're on vacation. Many areas of the world are not nearly as fortunate as we are, and it can be quite a shock when you're face to face with that sort of deprivation. I would hate to think that anyone would have to suffer like my sister did, ever again.

I was 19 when I first landed in Ho Chi Minh City, barely a grown man. Before that, I'd never even left the UK, and Vietnam seemed like the most exotic place in the world to me. Feeling like Neil Armstrong landing on an alien planet, the humidity that hit me in the face as I stepped off the airplane was unbelievable. How could people live in that heat? I couldn't even imagine. But live they did. In tiny, arterial streets and wide, sunflower-lined avenues, millions upon millions of Vietnamese made their way around the city on little mopeds and scooters. My cigarette smoking taxi driver filled the car with thick billowing fumes, beeping the horn so regularly that it could have been Morse code. I recoiled when he began bellowing viciously out of the window in Vietnamese at any two-wheelers that came in too close.

It was a sensory overload. Alien sights and unfamiliar noises. Exotic scents both putrid and pleasurable. It was almost a relief to arrive at the small dingy hostel I'd be staying at for at least a couple of nights. I quickly developed a taste for Vietnamese food. Loud, vibrant flavors and some strangely familiar forms. Vietnamese beer was pretty good too. Yet it was the night that brought Saigon to life. Neon signs and blaring speakers from shrines and temples. Vietnamese go-go dancers gyrating to lyrics they couldn't understand. Fried meat and incense filling the air with sweet delicious smells. Street vendors sold fruits that looked like props from a science fiction movie.

It was incredible. But maybe I got a little too confident in my new home away from home. So Vietnamese weed is cheap, like really bloody cheap. Not as strong as some of the stuff you can find in the UK and the States, but for the price, it's fantastic. It's also readily available. You can rock up to some little Vietnamese dive bar and pay the bartender to nip out and grab you a bag. It's really that easy. Only this one night, my usual connection isn't in work. I try to ask the owner where the bartender is in my crappy Vietnamese, but he doesn't understand so I give up and decide to find myself a new person to pick up from.

Something you should know about Ho Chi Minh. It's not uncommon for someone on a moped or a scooter to just cruise up next to you on the pavement and offer you a lift somewhere. They'll be like, Hey man, you want beers, ladies, weed, ecstasy? Most people just laugh and decline politely with the Viet hustlers just taking it on the chin and shouting bye bye as they drive off. But when this dude rolls up and gives me the same routine, I nod and ask him if we can drive me somewhere to buy some smoke. As I expect, he smiles, nods, and tells me to hop on.

After we're driving for about 15 minutes, I notice that we're actually heading out of the city center. Not just that, but we seem to be heading way, way out into the suburbs, which in Vietnam is basically just jungle with houses interspersed between thick patches of foliage. I didn't mind the journey really, as long as he didn't try and gouge me for it and find much more quality stuff if you go out into the country where there's not as much demand. My driver says we're headed to a bar he knows, but when we pull into the driveway of this bar, it's anything but. It's literally just someone's house, a two two story building with like

a porch out front. He tells me we've arrived and I should wait on the porch for him to get my gear for me. Me being me I just sort of assumed I either misheard the guy or there's been some other kind of miscommunication. Probably on my part. So I do as he says, sitting in a white plastic chair on this house's porch while the owner comes out and starts talking to the driver. But when he sees me, he's absolutely effing fuming. He starts growling stuff at the driver, pointing at me and then at the driver. I didn't need to speak Vietnamese to know that I'm definitely not welcome here. But to my confusion, the two just go inside and leave me be.

I'm getting pretty impatient after about 20 minutes goes by and I'm still just sat there, waiting on these two guys to come out with my smoke. Worried I'm being ripped off, I get up out of the seat and start wandering towards the doorway of the house, trying to get a look inside. But there's noise at the entranceway, to the driveway. Four youngish Vietnamese guys are staggering up the path, obviously pretty drunk. When they see me, they make the older owner's reaction look tame. They're not happy to see me, drunkenly jabbering in Vietnamese and making some pretty aggressive hand gestures. I'm backing off up the porch, hand raised before me like this I'm no threat to anyone kind of way, but they just sense the weakness and ramp it up. One is pushing me, the other is actually trying

to stick his hand in my pockets to rob me, all the while the other two are like half goading them on and half trying to throw punches and kicks at me through the melee. I'm convinced I'm about to be robbed and battered by a gang of angry Viet's and that I'll have to walk hours back into Ho Chi Minh without a penny to my name. That's when I hear it. There was this loud echoing crack that caused the Viet lads to scatter away from me. I look up and the older owner of the house has stood there holding a bloody smoking gun in the air. He then proceeds to aim it at the gang of Vietnamese lads, screaming stuff in Viet at them as they back up the driveway, absolutely breaking it.

I honestly thought he was about to shoot one of them right in front of me and as much as I'm kind of ashamed to admit it I sort of wanted him to. I actually found myself wanting this fella to just smoke one of those absolute rat bags trying to pick on some lonely lost westerner. I hate bullies, I always have. These fellas just legged it up the drive though, tails between their legs. I'm still shaking as the owner starts talking to me in Vietnamese. I have no idea what he's saying, but it's some kind of sort of explanation for what just happened. To this day I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm guessing they were just some neighborhood thugs, come to pick up some smoke as I had, who decided that they didn't like what they

saw. Simple as that. With trembling hands I take this huge bag from the owner who then refuses to take my money off me. He's batting it away and pushing my hand back towards me in this really overt gesture of keep this, you probably need it right now. and I did. You have no idea how scary it is when something like that happens in a foreign country. The feeling of utter confusion, helplessness, and fear are amplified because you stick out like a sore thumb. The one thing worse than some horrible misfortune is horrible misfortune you're not able to ask for help with. For my 18th birthday, my mom and dad organized a trip to Ireland for me and two friends. My dad's family had emigrated to Canada after the Second World War, and my mom also had some Irish blood, so it was always a dream of mine to visit the old country to gain a greater connection with our cultural past.

My dad actually still has relatives in Belfast, in the far north of Ireland, which is technically still part of the UK and still keeps in touch with them. So a big part of the trip was connecting with these relatives, having them show us around, treating us to some traditional Irish delicacies like Guinness and more Guinness. So after about a week or so of touring Dublin, Limerick and Cork, we headed up north via train to stay with my distant cousins in Belfast. The meetup wasn't scheduled until the early evening and it was still quite early in the morning when our train arrived, so me and my two girlfriends ended up having some time to kill. Turns out Belfast is pretty cool, with a lot of stuff to see and do so we had no worries about keeping occupied until the evening.

So we're out doing a little shopping and seeing some sights when this young looking guy walks up to us out of nowhere and strikes up a conversation. Being young girls, a cute Irish guy talking to us turned us into blushing idiots. He's telling us how he's not from Belfast, that he's only in town to do a music video shoot for his band. This now turns the fawning factor up to 11, and we're practically drooling over this tattooed Lothario as he regales us with tales of tour bus antics and wild rock shows. Eventually, to our absolute delight and amazement, he tells us we're all gorgeous and that we're perfect to star in their music video with them. He explains it'll be like a group thing, with a band playing in the abandoned warehouse space while their fans party around them. So when he asks us if we have an hour

or two to spare to come and be part of the shoot, we jump at the chance. He asks us to follow him and without so much as a second thought, we do. But here's the thing. I've always been a good judge of character and something didn't quite feel right to me. I don't know what it was at the time, but something just didn't add up. I also know a little bit about guitars, having played for a few years in high school. I'm not amazing or anything, but I do know my way around a fretboard. So when the guy says he plays guitar in his band, I asked him which model and brand he prefers. He hesitates and gives us some wishy-washy answer about having too many favorites to really choose from. Okay, nothing quite so suspicious about that. The guy must have had a whole bunch of guitars on hand. But I pressed the issue.

I asked him if he'd ever played a genuine Les Paul and he honestly looks at me like I'm speaking Greek. My BS detector is going off the scales at that. Everyone who plays guitar has some dream set up in mind, some god tier piece of gear that they've longed to have placed on a pedestal. This guy had nothing, in fact I was starting to think he knew nothing about guitars at all. I think he actually began to notice my suspicion and this caused him to drop a little of that happy-go-lucky disposition of his. The guy actually started walking much faster through the crowds, turning around every so often to tell us to hurry up or we'll be late for the shoot.

I turned to the girls around this time to tell them that I really didn't like where this was going. While they understood my concerns, they just thought I was being overly paranoid, that I should relax and see where the adventure would take us. But when he eventually leads us all the way to his run-down looking warehouse building that did not look at all safe, they started getting similar vibes. There's garbage everywhere, gnarly looking graffiti all over the walls, the place looked like it was a junkie's paradise. Remember this is in the middle of the day and there's a ton of people around. Well, now we're way out of sight from the general public with this shady stranger who

I'm convinced is up to no good. At these big iron entrance doors, he stops, waits and then tells us to go ahead of him. The other two girls are giggling, way excited at the prospect of starring in some foreign band's music video, and just obey him like a pair of idiots. Girls, we're not going in there. We're leaving. The words seemed to leave my mouth before I'd even realized I'd spoken them. At this point, the guy freaks out and stands in between me and my friends,

trying to block their exit from the warehouse. You can see the fury in his eyes. Whatever nefarious plan he'd had for us, I'd obviously just thrown a spanner in the works. He's so overcome with anger that he's hissing at me not to ruin this for him, like flecks of spittle are flying from his lips and landing on me. It was disgusting, so gross in fact that I actually lean into a push, sent him flying off balance before I scream at my friends to get out of there. It takes him acting like a complete idiot for my friends to realize just what a scumbag this guy

was and at that we're running away from his warehouse like it's on fire. The guy is yelling after us, shouting stuff about us, not ruining this for him. This just makes us think he's giving chase, so we run faster and faster until we're back among the throngs of people. Relative safety. I couldn't believe how dumb we were and I told the girls as much. We swore we wouldn't tell any of the family what we had done. I have no clue what surprise was waiting for us inside that filthy warehouse space. I realize in that moment how naive I was in to listen to my intuition

which has protected me many, many times throughout my life. What a bunch of idiots we were. After our university graduation, a few close friends and I decided to go traveling to Western Australia. We had planned the trip for years, putting away savings for our part-time jobs until the day we finally donned our Mordewoord caps and ventured out into the world as adults. We arrived in country, spent a week or so just lazing around the beaches and soaking up the sun, then decided we'd have ourselves a little road trip. And for that, we'd need wheels. So we wandered into this little Aussie town and find ourselves the cheapest, noisiest camper van

and rent the thing for basically pennies. We drove this battered old camper van around a few towns, often sleeping in the van itself when we were unable to find any hostels or hotels. Anyone familiar with the northwestern corner of Australia knows that town is a pretty generous term for most of these places, and there is a lot of absolutely nothing in between them, just barren outback desert. One night, after driving for hours and hours in almost pitch darkness, we decided it would be better to just pull over and get some sleep instead of risking getting lost in the outback. So we stop, drive off the road a little into this little dry patch of nowhere, with no one around for miles and miles.

We're tired, but we're happy. We're stocked up on food, cold beer, and now we've got ourselves a place to sleep. We've got it made. So after an hour or so around a warm fire, drinking and reminiscing about uni, we find ourselves staring up at the sky. It's an incredible vista. Lack of light pollution in that area of Australia means that the starlight canopy is a truly mesmerizing sight. But the place we're settled into is ringed by trees, so at some point, someone has the bright idea to go for a little wander so we can get a better view of the stars. It wasn't hard to find a good spot. The only trees around were nestled between the hills hiding from the sun and sucking up any water that flowed their way.

Manage to drag yourself up one of the slopes and you can see for miles and miles. I mean Australia is so flat in places that it's like you're looking out to the ends of the earth. So with all of us a little buzzed we start shuffling off towards one of these hills. It was glorious. The Milky Way was so bright and deep it felt like you were falling into it. The road and our campsite were hidden by darkness and trees, erasing pretty much all signs of civilization. We felt so alone, so far from home, it really was a special moment. We sat and drank in the galaxy and told whatever stories came to mind, just real hippie stuff. We were tiny specks in an immense universe and everything was perfect. And then it was time to go.

We all stand up and as one, the four dudes I'm with start walking in the wrong direction. It's not hard to understand why. Every hill looked like the same from up on top of our glorious mound of rocks and dirt. Every little valley was choked with brush. The road was obscured from view and it curved gently away from us in both directions anyway there were no landmarks and we were all high as kites so there i am confused at first as to why my mates are heading off in pretty much the opposite way we came i doubt myself for a moment wondering if it's me that in fact has the messed up sense of direction. The guys poke up a bit of fun, saying I'm too drunk to find my way back to the van, but I know at this point that we're definitely not going the right way.

I start insisting, raising my voice, trying to convince the lads that they're about to get themselves dangerously lost in a place where getting lost can be fatal. They were so certain that they were going the right way that my objections were often met with laughter and mockery, but as time went on I became increasingly panicked. I could see this whole disastrous event unfolding before my eyes, so in a moment of clarity I just turned around and headed back in the direction I knew was correct. Now it was their turn to be insistent. The lads practically begged and pleaded with me not to go back in the wrong direction drunkenly arguing that I was going to get us all in a lot of trouble. That infuriated me.

The only one with any idea of where we were and I was being treated like a moron. Eventually they decided to humor me, following my lead so that they could continue to mock me when I finally did get us all lost. Every step of the way they pointed out how unfamiliar everything was, how it couldn't possibly be the way we came. One of the lads even started babbling about how we were going south when we really wanted to be going north. He didn't even have a compass on him. In fact, I'm pretty sure that even if he did, he still wouldn't be able to tell his mouth from a hole in the ground. They left broken twigs in a trail behind us so we could find our way back. An idea that would

have served us a whole lot better an hour or two beforehand. The one dude tried to physically drag me back to the hill and into the wilderness. They laughed at me, right up until we stepped out of a ditch and into the clearing, where our camper van was set up. They weren't laughing then, I can tell you that much. The lad who was insistent that he had some kind of magnetic compass in his head was the worst off. He seemed flabbergasted, like the only explanation was that the camp had moved, not that we'd nearly gotten ourselves lost. I looked up this rest area later on Google Earth.

Had we gone in any direction other than directly back to the road, it would have been over 120 miles before we hit any signs of civilization. If we were very, very lucky, 120 miles of Australian outback with no food, water, or tools, we'd have died surely. It only takes a few days without water before the body just packs in and we were so dehydrated from the alcohol and smokes that i don't think that we'd have lasted a day alone in the outback and that's the story of why i don't hike with drunks anymore anymore. It was 2002. I was living with my boyfriend in a small home, just the two of us. The layout of the bedroom is important to the story. We had a small bedroom with a queen bed. The bed was pushed into

a corner with the right side up against a wall and the left side with a small nightstand and just a small amount of room to walk beside the bed. When you walked into the room the foot of the bed was immediately to your right, closet door to the left. So one night my boyfriend and I are asleep. I slept on the left near the walkway because I tend to get up to pee a lot. I wake up suddenly in the middle of the night. The room is dark but my eyes are adjusted and I could see everything. I didn't know why I woke up but right when I did my dog Daisy came walking into the bedroom. Walking right up to me and started happily sniffing my face like she was glad I was awake. And walking right behind my dog was my boyfriend. But something was off about him. He walked with tiny little steps, almost comically small steps,

and his head was down making his long hair cover his face. But I could tell it was him. Same clothes, same hair, same body shape, etc. He baby stepped all the way around the bed and right up behind my dog. When he made it behind her, she looked back at him and then just walked away, leaving the bedroom entirely. I watched both of them the whole time this took place. I wasn't scared or confused, I was just watching. Then my boyfriend baby stepped closer to me and then leaned in over me his hair still covering his face. He was leaned so far over me I thought he was looking for something and that's when I got confused. I was just about to ask what he was doing when I glanced over to his side of the bed.

To my horror there was my sleeping boyfriend. I cannot explain the overwhelming surge of fear and panic I felt at that moment. I was frozen with fear. I couldn't make a single sound. When I turned back towards the person I thought was my boyfriend, it quickly and swiftly leaned up straight and stepped backwards into my curtains and completely disappeared. That's when I was finally able to scream, and scream I did. I had no answers, no clue on earth what it was that I had seen.

My super-christian friend told me it was a demon, that it took the form of my boyfriend. She explained her reasons but I have since forgotten what she had told me and for years after that nothing like that had ever happened to me again until 2018. It was summer break 2018. My boyfriend and I had a son in 2005 but we broke up shortly after unfortunately. He's a good dad, we split amicably. The now ex-boyfriend stops by fairly often and if I don't hear him at the door he will come on in. One night my elderly pug woke me up barking. He sleeps right in my armpit basically so I immediately noticed what he was barking at. It was my ex-boyfriend. He was leaning in my

bedroom door and he was just smiling at me with the pug steadily barking at him. As soon as I looked at him I was immediately just annoyed. He woke me up. So in my sleepy annoyance, I say, What do you want? He is still leaning in my door, still smiling at me. What? I yelled, angry by that point. And he just shuts the door.

That angered me even further because I felt like he had awakened me for something but he wasn't talking or answering my questions. So I start shouting, I'm up, I'm up, what is it, I'm up. And I fling the covers off of me and in a matter of seconds I open up my bedroom door expecting him to be standing there but there's nothing. It's just my dark hallway. Not quite grasping what is going on, I walk all around my house trying to find him. He's not there at all. It had been so long since it first happened that I was more shocked than scared.

I don't really scare too easily these days. I text him right away. He still remembers the first time this happened to me, even though he dismissed the first occurrence as a really vivid dream, despite me being adamant that I was fully awake when that happened. So, I was surprised by his reaction to the second occurrence. He believed me. What really sold him was my pug, Mr. Muggs. He barked a lot at whatever was leaning in my bedroom door. Something else I didn't realize until I was texting my ex is the fact Mr. Muggs never barks at him.

He loves my ex. Another sighting of an entity that looks exactly like my ex and 15 years after the first time. Very, very odd to say the least. A month or so goes by. I believe if you put too much thought and emotion into the paranormal it can feed on that so I brushed it off. I just didn't give it a second thought beyond the first day after it happened. It was weird, and let's just forget it happened. That kind of thing. August of 2018, my niece found a tiny little puppy in a ditch on the side of the road. I immediately fell in love and opted to adopt her. Her name is Peekyboo, if you must know. My son and I fell head over heels in love with her. Every night she would whine to get in bed with me and Mr. Mugs, and every night I

happily obliged. One night, I woke up to my son standing at the side of my bed. Mom? Mom? Can I sleep in your bed with the puppy? I was not happy he woke me. You can see the puppy tomorrow, son. But he begged. Please, I want to sleep in the bed with you and the puppy. I was not having it, so I told him, No, son, I barely have room as it is. Go to bed.

He hung his head down, but he didn't say anything else. I watched as he left and I was already feeling guilty. Just as he shut the door, I had a change of heart. I called out, come back son, I'm sorry. As I threw back covers and quickly opened my door, my stomach sank when I opened the door and saw nothing. The hallway was empty, dark, and quiet. No lights, no sounds. It had been a few seconds from the time my son shut my door to the point where I was opening it back up. I would have seen him so quickly I walked to my son's room, opened his door and there he was, sound asleep in his bed. I didn't want to freak him out so the next day I simply asked him, so did you come to my room last night? He responded with a yes. I was relieved until he added,

When I came to tell you goodnight, remember? That was hours before I had seen him in my room that night, wanting in my bed. I never told him what happened, and it hasn't happened again. I hope it never does. It does scare me. It spoke. It wanted in my bed. I talked to it. What if I had said yes? I shudder at the thought. I don't know what to make of this. Why do I see entities that look like my loved ones? I have heard other doppelganger stories but my experience is a little different from the others that I've heard.

Are they ghosts? Demons? I'm curious to hear your thoughts. I'm going to preface this with the fact that I was a bit of a skeptic. I loved the idea of the paranormal but straight up never believed in it until about half an hour ago. I was walking my dog along this usual route. It's only a half hour circuit through a well lit and safe neighborhood so I felt pretty comfortable taking him late at night. I'm about 20 minutes into the walk when I notice the only other person I've seen the entire time I've been out. A kid roughly 9 or 10 walking alone on the other side of the street. This strikes me as odd as it's nearly midnight but I decide it's none of my business and press on. Then the kid notices me and crosses the road. This is where I get my first proper look at it.

They're wearing a thin hoodie, green and grey striped with the hood up, grey cargo pants and a pair of trainers. Totally normal attire really. As the kid walked over I felt compelled to stop. There's a lot of young families living in the area so I assumed they belonged to one of them but I felt weirdly uneasy. I'm someone who really struggles with generalized anxiety and so chalked it up to that initially. They reached me and took down their hood and that's when I started to actually freak out their face was totally androgynous and kind of rubbery topped off with blacked out eyes it sounds cliche but everything about their appearance was just wrong in hindsight I'm pretty sure that it was unnatural symmetry that threw me off as much as the eyes but I can't

honestly say that for sure as the image seemed to evade clear memory. I must have stared at the kid blankly for a beat before it said something pretty close to, excuse me sir but my friend and I are going to the shop and we appear to have lost our way. Could you please direct us at your convenience? 1. I'm a girl, so thanks, demon kid. 2. I text these words to my girlfriend almost immediately afterwards so I can be fairly sure of the accuracy. 3. There was only one kid that I saw but can't roll out a second being there 4. There was no shops open anywhere near where we were It wasn't just the factual errors that threw me but the tone too

It was mechanical and kind of awkward Almost like if you read a Dr. Seuss book That's what it reminded me of anyway For some reason I felt like the kid wanted to come with me. As it said these words it kind of leaned into the direction that I had been walking in. I know it had asked for directions but I can't help but feel that the next step would have been asking me to walk it there or even worse, asking to come home with me to call someone as it was lost. I told it that I couldn't be of any help and it frowned at me and went to open its mouth but whatever weird compulsion that had caused me to stop broke and I made to walk home.

After a few steps I turned to look back and the kid was gone. Like I say, I'm not one to jump to paranormal conclusions quickly and in a slightly older kid I might have assumed blackout contacts as I have them myself but everything about this was just terrifying. I can't explain why I know with such conviction that what I saw wasn't human but either way I know it. I won't be walking that route anymore and certainly not after dark. If you can offer a logical explanation then please do because I'm pretty sure I'm just crazy. On my 10th birthday I had a few of my friends over for a slumber party and we had our sleeping bags on the floor of the living room. The living room was at the front of the house and behind our front

porch. When you walked into the house through the porch you'd get to the front door. Once in the doorway there was a staircase to the left, a half bathroom directly in front, and the living room connected to the dining room to the right. Left of the dining room was the kitchen, behind the half bathroom. Now, back to the slumber party we were doing whatever it is ten-year-old girls do at sleepovers when I got an uneasy feeling. There were windows behind the couch that were directly looking onto the porch. I remember not wanting to look anywhere near the windows. I was sitting on the floor with my friends when in the corner of my eye I saw something bright on the stairs. I didn't want to look but for whatever reason I did. I looked and at the bottom of the staircase was a little boy.

He was pale, black hair and had circles around his eyes. He looked calm and he was just watching. I'm getting chills just as I type this and I actually want to puke. This wasn't the first time I saw him though. I immediately turned my head and was just frozen. While I'm sitting there terrified one of the girls started yelling that there was someone on the porch and we booked it downstairs. We locked ourselves in my bedroom and sat in a circle and listened as the girl told us there was an old woman on the porch. Each of us were rightfully scared out of our minds. Then the crash happened. In the middle of talking, we heard what sounded like glass shattering.

Again, frozen, some of the braver girls who didn't believe us decided to go investigate. We followed and there was nothing. Absolutely nothing was broken but we all heard it. It sounded like someone smashed the window in with a baseball bat. We ended up sleeping very closely tucked away in my tiny room that night. Looking back, I don't know why I never woke my parents up during any of that. Babysitting my youngest sister. At this time it was just me and my three sisters, age 13, 5 and 2. I was still 10. My younger sister and I were home from school with a stomach bug. My mom had to go get my 5 year old sister from school and asked us to watch our youngest sister. We were sitting in the living room and she was eating some snacks and had a sippy cup of water.

The top of the cup must not have been screwed on tight enough because when she knocked it over, water spilled everywhere. My oldest sister went to the kitchen to get some napkins to clean up. When she came back, she handed me some of the napkins and we both started cleaning. We were on our hands and knees wiping up the water when we started to hear banging coming from the second floor. We both paused, looked at each other and said nothing. But we both had that look of, you heard that too right? We stayed silent and kept cleaning. Then again another bang. At this point we stand up and are still silent just staring at the ceiling. Then came the giggles.

We heard little kids upstairs laughing. Then the laughing turned to singing. Just little children singing what sounded like choir singing. My sister scooped up the baby and we ran outside. It was a clear day out that day and I remember once we got outside it started to rain. We had no choice but to go back inside but we stayed on the front porch until my mom got home. I have so many stories but it's too much to share right now. I'm 28 now and I still have nightmares monthly about being inside that house. There are times now when I question myself if any of that happened and try to search my memory for anything that could have an explanation but I just can't.

Living there honestly changed this all forever. Maybe I'll keep going. So a bit of background story, a lot of people have been asking where this took place. I don't want to give the exact town because I am an anxious weirdo and this is the internet, but it took place outside Boston. Before we moved to the house, I spent the first nine years of my life in a house we were renting. My childhood was heaven, absolute 1990s kid heaven. I never had any real paranormal experiences in our first home, but I did have some strange premonitions that came true about family tragedies after I started getting severe migraines, which is what I'm feeling now, so I'm kind of nervous bringing

this all up again. But anyway, our landlord was planning on selling our home, so we had to act quick and find a new place. I remember looking at a few homes and going to open houses with family. I remember the open house for this one. I stayed in the car. I told my parents it wasn't the right place. They went in anyway. Later that week, we got the call that we got the house My parents were excited to finally be homeowners But I was still apprehensive

But also still kind of excited to have our own home After the years spent there They decided to take me to every open house afterwards To make sure the homes were clear My dad still asked me to pick lottery numbers for him We finally got ourselves moved in My dad still asked me to pick lottery numbers for him. We finally got ourselves moved in. It didn't take long to realize things were off.

The house was a two-story. Like I said in the first post, the first floor was the kitchen, dining room, living room, and half-bathroom. The upstairs was a full bath and two bedrooms. We were a family of six at the time, so my two younger sisters had the bedroom next to my parents room and the basement was converted to a bedroom for my older sister and I. I never slept in there though. I shared a bed with my younger sister in her room. The basement had its own creepy vibe as most basements do and that's where we saw the woman in the wedding dress the most. My older sister was brave to sleep down there by herself. The basement had this weird stage type thing. Right by the laundry room with the boiler and stuff was this area that was just one big step

where we kept some storage. To block off the clutter my sister decorated it with those hippie beads. Think Britney's Oops I Did It Again album cover. There was one time my sister was laying in her bed doing homework and my mom was in the laundry room doing laundry when they started to hear the beads clanking into each other. My mom poked her head out to see what the sound was. When she saw them swaying she walked out and stood next to my sister just to watch what was happening. They then began to shake even more violently like they were about to be yanked off the ceiling. They ran upstairs and stayed away from the basement for a while. My mom was always scared to do laundry after that. She said she always felt someone watching her down there so she would sing

to herself to stay calm. I can't remember the timelines of all these events they're all just scattered in my brain so I'll start with the events in the basement and bedroom. In the basement we went away on vacation for a few days and the house although it nice, started to get a lot of problems. One being mice. We never saw one but would hear scratching. So before we left my dad put mouse traps around the house. There was a hole in the ceiling in the basement where my dad placed one. When we got home he went around to collect and check the traps. When he reached into the ceiling he found the trap was gone but found something else in its spot. It was a postcard dated from the 1930s. It was what you would imagine an old postcard to look like, stained and worn. It was signed and dated with a name

we didn't know and read, Wish You Were Here. I wish we kept it and I wish I remembered more about this but my dad got rid of it. He didn't show it but I'm sure he was creeped out. We never found the mousetrap. The Bride in the Basement This one scares me the most even though I didn't see it. My sister was in her bedroom when she saw the lace in the corner of her eye. She looked up but didn't see anything. She kept doing whatever it was she was doing when she saw it again. Again, nothing. This went on for a few more times when

finally she looked up and she saw her. An older woman with frizzy grey hair looking very disheveled and angry. She had a white veil and a white lace wedding dress. The way my sister described her was that she was standing with her arms at her sides but kind of stretched out. They were by her sides but not touching her body and her hands stretched out. My sister said she looked frozen and her face looked stuck and as quick as she was there she was gone. My sister was the only one to fully see her. The rest of us would just see the lace pass us in our peripheral vision. So that's what I can remember of the basement at the moment so I'll now switch to the little boy.

The first time I saw him was in the upstairs bathroom. I had just finished up in the shower and was looking in the mirror and combing out my hair. I know this is going to sound cliche but the mirrors we had above the sink were cabinets split into four so one was slightly open which gave me more of a view of the bathroom. As I was brushing my hair I looked down for a second and back up and that's when I saw him for the first time. I looked in the mirror and saw him standing behind me on my left side He had the same expression on his face as the first story Calm, but his eyes looked sad They were dark, his skin was pale But for some reason I remember him wearing a type of scaly cap

But his hair was black and messy underneath it I of course screamed and ran to my mom's room. This all lasted about five seconds. The second time I saw him, he didn't have the hat. It was the time of the slumber party. We had this banister type thing at the end of the stairs. He was standing on the last step with his elbows rested on the banister, again just watching. He scared me but made me sad. My family's experiences

My older sister saw the nurse. She walked into the living room and saw a nurse casually sitting on her couch. She was dressed in the traditional old-fashioned nurse dress and hat. My little sister, who was five, was sitting in the kitchen with my parents as they cooked dinner. I remember watching TV when I heard screaming coming from the kitchen. Curious, I walked in and saw my parents trying to calm her down. She said someone was trying to hold her hand. She had her hands behind her back playing with the chairs so my dad tried convincing her that it was her own hand touching the other. She didn't buy that. She's 24 now and

still stands by what she felt. She felt someone grab her hand. Another time with that same sister my mom was washing her hair in the kitchen sink. The way my mom would do it was she would lay a towel on the counter and we would lay on it and our heads would halfway hang in the sink. So while she was getting her hair washed she was looking at a box of strawberries on the counter. She yelled for my mom to look and they both watched as the brand new strawberries turned moldy in a matter of a minute. My youngest sister, she was two almost three at the time, she used to scream and cry about that mean man.

My mom would try to calm her but without much luck. She would ask her what man, where is the man and she would point to the stairs and hide her face away. The way the stairs was designed was they were mostly just straight down but towards the end they would turn. She would always point to the corner of the stairs. It was the fifth step. Every time we had company over someone would fall down those stairs once they reached the fifth step. We never told anyone our house was haunted because honestly, who wants to tell people that? But every person who came over and fell on those stairs said it felt like someone pulled their leg down.

They all fell the same way. It happened to me, my mom, and one of my other other sisters and yeah, it did feel like that. One time my mom was home alone. She was sitting on her bed when out of nowhere a pillow was thrown in her face. My parents saw a teddy bear get picked up off a shelf and carefully be placed on the floor. Like gently, just in the air. Same thing with the Cheerio another time. There was also a Furby we had. What a kid in 2000 didn't have one. Thing would go crazy at random times, saying things

Furbies didn't even say. We took the batteries out and tossed it in the basement. It never stopped, even without batteries. We ended up throwing it out. When we were getting close to moving, we had one neighbor tell us that way back in the 1940s or 50s that a nurse lived there with her son. I always wondered if the little boy was there with his mom, the nurse who was on the couch. Another neighbor came by once for a cookout. He had a bit too much to drink and went on to tell this crazy story about the whole block was notoriously haunted. We never told anyone about our experiences. It was guaranteed that he didn't know. My mom has had many, many strange and paranormal encounters in her life, including meeting her own doppelganger as a child.

She's had many stories to tell me and I grew up hearing them, about the flying cups in her bedroom and the vacuum cleaner running by itself when she was a little girl. However, there's one that still baffles me to this day and I want to know if anyone else has ever seen this. This creature or knows anything about it. Years ago, before I was born, I'm 18 so it's been a good while. My mom has been staying at her best friend's house for a while. Her best friend was married so her husband was also there but he and my mom barely interacted with each other when she was there. He always kept to himself and still does today. They're still friends. As my mom put

it she was parked in her friend's driveway waiting for her friend to come out so that they could leave. My mom was alone in the car fiddling around with the buttons and such and she glanced in her rearview mirror. What she saw horrified her as she said. In the rearview mirror she saw a large black dog walking on its hind legs. Now I am a skeptic of everything so I asked my mom if it was just a random big old dog standing up on its back legs and using the car for support. She insists that no. It was walking. Like a human.

It didn't touch her car. It walked along the sidewalk like a human would. It didn't once get on all fours. It walked on two legs. She swears this and I can see by the genuine terror in her eyes that she's telling the truth. I asked if she saw the legs. She said as soon as she looked behind her it had vanished into thin air, gone like a ghost. When she looked around there wasn't a single dog or person in sight. That's not the scariest part, for me at least.

My mom visited her best friend again, not at the house, she hates that house now. A few years ago and the subject of spirits came up. My mom told her exactly what she told me about the dog or whatever it was, walking behind the car in her driveway because she'd never told anyone. Her best friend looked at her, pale in the face and said, my husband told me he saw that too. It walked on two legs. Two people saw the exact same creature in the same spot at different times. I've heard legends of dogs and how if you see it so many times it signals a certain fate or fortune. But what was that? Have any of you seen anything like this? I'm terrified because I just passed my driving test and if I see this

thing or anything remotely unnatural in my rear view I'll actually have a heart attack. I want more information on this walking dog. Is it some sort of omen or warning? Was it just that house that haunted? What did my mom and her friend's husband really encounter those days? Nowadays we have a backup camera in our cars. I don't ever want to see inhuman legs walking like that in my camera. I already have a bunch of eerie things going on and I don't want to be any more afraid than I already am. I moved across the country a few months ago for school and I live in an off-campus apartment that's leased by the school. I've been having some very strange and frightening occurrences in this apartment and I have to tell someone about it and hopefully get some insight on what I should do. The first thing I remember happening was very mild, as most paranormal experiences start out.

I was lying in bed drawing when I saw motion out of the corner of my eye, and when I looked up, my bathroom door handle slowly turned and the door opened. Mind you, it has a long handle so I could clearly see it turn and this door is a pain to open let alone on its own. I stared in disbelief for a couple of seconds. A million rationalizations were running through my mind and I couldn't make sense of any of them. I don't remember being scared, I was just extremely confused. This particular door opens on its own every single day without fail and multiple people have claimed they felt something tug on the door when they try to close it. I've also had some absolutely horrifying sleep paralysis episodes which

might not be related but I feel are worth noting. Where a tall silhouetted shadow figure emerges from that door and creeps towards me until its hands are around my neck and I'm gasping for breath. Side note, I've made it a bit of a habit to close the door whenever I leave and after I regain consciousness from these episodes, sometimes the door will open. That might just be me being forgetful though, at least that's what I tell myself. Doors opening and nightmares weren't even the beginning of it though. One night my roommates and I were in the living room when all of a sudden there was a giant cluttering sound coming from my room.

It sounded as if someone was rummaging through my stuff very violently. We all looked at each other and immediately thought someone broke in, so we armed ourselves and cracked open the door only to find no one in the room and all of my belongings scattered around my room. My tapestries were torn down, my makeup was thrown around every corner of my room, and my bedsheets were ripped off. I've had a lot of paranormal occurrences in the past, but in that moment I experienced a fear I've never felt before. My roommates and I saged our apartment after that and things were okay for a while. Aside from my door opening and the occasional fallen object, things quieted down for a bit. I became heavily involved in my schoolwork and didn't really have time to think about demons. They were really the least of my

problems. But today, things have begun to escalate. As I was sitting in class, my roommate walked in with a startled look on her face and said, I thought you hadn't left yet. I raised my eyebrow and she explained that as she was leaving our apartment, she heard her name being called from my room. She responded, Yeah? But didn't get a reply reply so she just left. My roommate's not the one to make stuff up like that and her family are very cognizant of the paranormal world. I told her that was really

strange and hoped that it was a one-time thing but apparently not. We got home from class today and all of our cupboards were open and both of our bedroom doors were locked. We exchanged our WTFs and went to investigate. We searched the apartment for something or someone but to no avail. We met back in our kitchen and talked about what was happening when all of a sudden we heard a loud crash come from her room. Simultaneously we stopped conversing and I said, You heard that too, right? She immediately went towards the sound and discovered that her bathroom door, the closet door, and the washer and dryer were all open.

We didn't say a word, casually left the apartment, and haven't come back since. So what do I do in this situation? I have ten weeks of school left and unfortunately switching apartments and moving out isn't an option. Thanks in advance for your answers and even reading this far. This just happened about an hour and a half ago on my way home from work. I live in Central Texas, San Antonio to be exact. This whole incident happened in the span of maybe 30 to 45 seconds, maybe a minute but it felt pretty quick and surreal. I was driving on a short stretch of elevated highway, Wurzbach Parkway if you know the city, traveling northbound between 281 cutting over to 35. I was passing the airport, just past Thousand Oaks where the highway straightens out for a few miles until

it slopes to ground level. It was raining and there are not many street lights on this part of the highway. I was traveling about 60 or 65 miles per hour. My car is a little sedan so I had a low view of the road. I was the only one on the highway in either direction aside from a pair of headlights several miles behind me. In the distance ahead maybe a half a mile or so I saw what looked like a man a human outline running or jogging on the right hand shoulder of the road. Aside from it being nearly 1am and on an elevated stretch of road, I didn't think it too odd. There's lots of drunks in my city and stranger things have happened. Nonetheless, I moved from the right lane to the left just in case. As I approached I became aware that this silhouette

was not getting taller, as you would expect as your perception shifts. Instead it stayed the same height. I estimate maybe three or four feet tall based on the fact that its head came to about the same height as the hood of my car. I slowed down to about 50 to 55 and stared at the back of this thing, trying to make out details through my rain-soaked windshield. As soon as I got close enough for this thing to be fully in my headlights, it dropped down to all fours, as if it was trying to mimic an animal. I know this was not any animal I've seen. Its size was that of a medium-sized coyote, but it was running distinctly like a person attempting to run like an animal.

Its hindquarters were raised up in the air and I could clearly make out buttocks, and its legs kicked out sideways. If you've ever seen documentaries about feral children, it'll give you an idea of the gait that I'm attempting to describe. The only thing is that no human I've seen could run on all fours at the speed this thing was going. The creature was entirely naked and oily black and smooth. The rain glistened off its skin with a shine like wet black marble or obsidian. I could make out muscle tone and everything as this thing clipped along.

As it dropped to two legs, it lost some speed, either intentionally or just from the change in gait. It was running about the same pace as a person could sprint. I pass this thing and it looks over its left shoulder towards me. Its face was flat, with a flat wide nose. It had big eyes. I could see the whites and dilated dark pupils. There was no eye shine which I think is unusual, just those eyes against the black of its skin. Though it never looked directly in my headlight beams, so that may be inconsequential. It opened its mouth at one point as it was looking at me as it passed Its teeth were flat and white like a human's but with larger and more prominent canines It had hands and feet like a person

I couldn't make out any genitalia but it was distinctly male in its general appearance It had what could be best described as a swimmer's build Its body was proportionate to that of any other human, just scaled down. No crazy long limbs or anything like that. I did fumble with my phone with the intent to try and take a photo but to be honest I was enamored and excited and trying to take in as much detail as possible while driving on a dark rainy road. I also didn't think a photo would show much because dark, rain, and the glass in my car windows. But now I'm seriously thinking of getting a dash cam. I hope that the car a ways behind me saw this thing. It was pretty obvious. I hope I've

provided enough detail for an accurate report. I have no idea what I just saw, but I'm glad I saw it. It didn't seem malicious. It looked scared, like it was not happy to be up there and just wanted to get down off the highway. I got the very distinct impression that the only reason it dropped to all fours was in an attempt to mimic an animal and draw less attention to itself. He didn't have far to go till the exit, but there's a well-lit gas station and intersection there. Aside from a few apartment buildings and scattered industrial areas, the only other stuff along the stretch is a small amusement park and the airport. There is an old abandoned concrete plant in the area next to the highway. Again, if you're local to the area, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

That was my first thought as to where it could have come from. It was heading away from this though and towards a populated area, so it doesn't make much sense. I'm still just floored that I saw this thing. I'm totally open to proving more details, but I believe this to be pretty concise. When I was 16, I got a job as a personal assistant cleaning lady for a very wealthy couple who lived in a big beautiful mansion on Lake Michigan. It was a great job at the time, but after a while I had to quit because of everything going on and I'll tell you exactly what that was. I made $12 an hour as a 16 year old girl and that was just crazy to me at the time, but now I know it's because the homeowners couldn't get anyone to stay and work for them.

It could very well be because they're both major idiots but I honestly didn't see them all that much during the school year so it was fine. I would work 40 hour weeks in the summer and part-time while I was in school so during the school year I would hardly see the homeowners and would be left alone to clean the house. I had a key, alarm code, and gate code so I could let myself in and out. In the summer months I had help from a few other employees, but in the school year I didn't. At first I loved being in the house by myself. Don't get me wrong, the place was absolutely gorgeous, right on Lake Michigan, so I'd always open all the curtains to let the sunshine in and blast the surround sound speakers while I cleaned. It wasn't until I was by myself that I started noticing how weird the place was.

Nothing ever exactly felt welcoming about the place. Sure it was pretty to look at, but it was modern and everything was hard marble and stone, not very homey feeling. My first experience happened when I was cleaning one day in silence. I remember specifically not turning on the music because I had a bad headache that day. All of a sudden the speaker to the upstairs part of the house turned on. The way their speaker system works, you can control it by a touchpad in the kitchen, which would play the music everywhere besides the basement and master bedroom. To play music in those areas, you have to go to the touchpad and turn it on by the control pad and sync it up with the rest of the house.

The reason this was so alarming was I was the only one there. I walked up to the stairs to go check out what was going on and figured out why the music turned on seemingly by itself. I looked around and called out the homeowner's names thinking someone just came in without me noticing or something but the doors were all still locked and no one was home. I shut off the music and went back downstairs, not thinking much of it. It started happening more often. I'd be listening to music and would turn it off, or it would be off and would turn on in a completely different area of the house.

I brushed it off as faulty and didn't think much of it. The second most prevalent story I remember from working was when I was cleaning the workout room in their basement. I never wanted to go in this room and I really couldn't tell you why. Something about this room was weird. It was super cold and dark and I just felt really anxious in that room. I definitely tried to avoid it but my boss would get mad when dust would build up so I forced myself to go in there once a week to tidy up. Anyway, I was in the workout room using a broom and a mop. I remember sweeping up the floor and propping the broom against a machine while I used the mop. Suddenly, the broom fell over, hitting the wall, the baseboard, and the floor as it fell, causing three distinct knocks. What I heard after scared me so badly I refused to go into the room by myself ever again. Immediately following the knocks made by the broom

falling, three knocks responded in the exact pattern the broom fell, but it was coming from inside of the wall. I know what you're thinking, but no, it was not an echo. It was not a scared animal. It was knocking. Deliberate knocking. I was completely alone in a big quiet house in the middle of nowhere and someone is knocking back at me from inside the wall. To this day I have absolutely no explanation for what I experienced. Lastly, this was the first and only time I had ever seen anything paranormal with my two eyes and I know this time it's not me being paranoid or crazy because I was with a co-worker who saw it too. Sometimes my boss would rent out her guest house and we would clean it before the guests arrived. So this guest house has a glass

hallway leading from one main area of the house to another. I was cleaning the glass while one of my co-workers, Bob, was standing next to me talking. Just then, I catch a glimpse of what looked like a boy in a blue shirt run by. I turn my head just as Bob turned his as well. He asked me if I saw that too and I said yes. Now, those are the craziest things that have happened while I was there that I can remember. I know there's more but it was almost 6 years ago now but if anything more comes to me, I'll be sure to update. This story is going to sound totally out there and fake but it was real and it got scary. When my son was around 4, he's 10 now, he dreamt of this thing he called the Garfield thing.

This was very strange to me because it wasn't Garfield. He made sure to add thing to it. He says it was in his dreams and it was scary. He'd either wake up screaming or just come get me in bed. I began to get concerned and started asking questions. The reason I didn't ask questions at first is because he had lots of imaginary friends and lived, he still does at some times, in his very own little imaginary world. He is an only child and where we live there weren't any kids his age to play with. I should also mention he has ADHD and is high functioning autistic. This went on for almost

a year and I finally started to probe him about this thing he was so afraid of in his dreams. I'm not sure how he told me it started, I can't remember. But in one conversation he finally told me that the Garfield thing asked him to live in the dream world with him and he said no, but he invited the Garfield thing to come live in his room. He then shared with me that he invited it into my room and I freaked a little. We had to have a talk about you never inviting things in. That's when I started to get freaked out. His room always felt wrong. My mom hated going in there and she's more sensitive than me and my cat started to lay outside Gavin's door when he was sleeping and then he began sleeping with him. This was very unusual

because my cat didn't like Gavin and was very attached to me. You know, always under my feet like a kid. I don't know why this should matter but I will tell you that we're Catholic. Gavin became so distressed that I taught him to say, I rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ to Garfield thing if he was scared. One night, he had snuck into my bed and i will stress that he was asleep he woke me up saying the phrase a little loud and very firmly that scared the life out of me i remember lying there and praying to god and every saint i could think of to intercede on our behalf i truly believed still do that he was being attacked tempted or latched on to by a demon. I prayed in every room in the house. My godmother had told me once that she would say Saint Michael, sick him, so I appealed to

Saint Michael for help. After that, things did start to calm down some. Garfield things stopped coming to him in his dreams every night for a time. Then when he was maybe six, Garfield things started visiting again. Gavin was in school and needed his rest. Because of his disabilities, he already was having a tough time in school. He's a little immature for his age and kind of weird to the other kids because of his issues. Things were spiraling and I just prayed that Garfield thing would go away again. Because of Gavin's issues, he has been in therapy since he was four and the way they do therapy that young is the parent is in the room. When he turned five he had to move to a new therapist because he aged out of the one he was with and that's when he started being in the sessions alone. I would get brought in about

the last 15 minutes to be told what they worked on. He told his therapist that the reason he was acting out in school was because the Garfield thing was keeping him awake, asking him for stuff. Now he was seeing it when he was awake. His therapist didn't know what I was certain it was but he told Gavin to do this. Tell Garfield he's only allowed to ask for one thing, a blanket because you need your rest. I had never shared with Gavin what I believed because I didn't want to scare him worse. His therapist did something I was unable to do. By having Gavin do that, he unknowingly took Garfield things power away. He managed to get Gavin to believe it was an

imaginary friend and he was in control of everything that happened and it worked. Garfield Thing became Garfield and wasn't scary anymore. He was like in the cartoons or comic strip. I will forever be grateful for what the therapist did because he managed to take all the evil power away and give power back to my son. We moved, not because of that and nothing feels off in this house, although my dad still wants a priest to do a blessing and he even talked about doing an exorcism on the house. This was after my son confessed to me last week that he just wanted to end his own life. He has a therapy appointment and he talked to our priest and seems better for the moment. I know this sounds made up but I promise it's not. It was very real and very scary. I'm a skeptic just about everything but I

know evil is real and I know demons are real too. I'm not however suggesting my son was possessed, he wasn't. He was being manipulated by something. I pray nothing like this ever happens to you, or your family. This is something that was super traumatic for me, but it was never discussed again in my household. I was talking with my mom about it the other night and she still didn't say much. Thought I would share my thoughts with you all. When I was 13, I got a Dell desktop for school. The internet was fairly new for me back in 2003. AOL and Mindspace, Yahoo Messenger, AOL chat rooms, 16 female Cali, anyone?

AOL chat rooms was where I went. I was a shy, overweight kid back then, still shy to this day. But online? Online I could be anyone. I could say anything. It was amazing. I discovered so many things when I got to the internet. If I could be anyone, so could someone else. Thus, how I met one 27-year-old man. One night I logged on. The AOL dial-up sound still makes me feel uneasy. I was sitting in my cold dark kitchen. The computer was here so I could be monitored. It was just me and my mom though and she was always working. No one ever really monitored me. Plus she had no idea how to use a computer so I got away with a lot. I was bored so I hopped into an AOL chat room. Lurked for a bit then 15 year old female here. I was really 13 but saying I was 15 made me feel

so much more mature. Private message incoming. Hey my name is Rob where are you from? That's how it started. I told him where I was from, that I was in high school, which wasn't a lie, my school was from grades 7 to 12. You? 19 year old male, New York. Oh man, was it cool to be talking to an older guy. And boy was he cute. Honestly, I don't really remember much. Maybe I blanked it out. Maybe my memory is just short. I do remember emails back and forth, the occasional phone call. I remember finding out he was talking to another girl and I wanted to break things off. But he begged and pleaded until I caved. Then the, let's meet. I was nervous. He had never asked for a pic, had never really asked for much from me, just the emails back and forth.

A phone call a day but somehow he made me feel safe, made me feel wanted, cared for. He drove from New York to West Virginia one day. My mom worked right beside my house so he parked about a quarter mile away and took the back alley to enter my house. My friend was with me when he showed up but was scared when she'd seen him and ran out the back door. I maybe should have taken a hint from that but I just stood on the back porch with my head down, was given a hug as he led me inside. Not five minutes after being there, sitting on the couch, did he move things further. Then further, even into my bedroom. I won't get into the details on what happened next, I assume most can guess. After that he left, with instructions to get in his car after I got off the school bus and we'll go on a date.

I had no idea where he was staying. I lived extremely far in the country, an hour's drive from the closest hotel. The next day I get ready for school, ride the bus for the 45 minute drive, and as soon as I hop off in the school parking lot, I get directed into his car. No one noticed. No one said anything. We drive around. Never go on a date. He just finds different places to park so that he can use me. I notice a photo of another young girl, 15 or 16, in the visor of his car.

Question him. Believe when he tells me it's his cousin. Believe when I question why his hairline is receding so much. Believe him when he tells me I can't see his driver's license because he left it in the hotel. Believe him when he said he loved me. I get dropped back off at school. Super sad that he was going back home with promises he will call. Again everything feels very fuzzy. I can't remember many emotions from this time. I do remember that a few days later my mom says she found out I skipped school with a man that I was never to see him again and that was that. I do remember sending an email. I do remember a late night phone call. I do remember sending an email I do remember a late night phone call I do remember saying I

wish I could just live with you I remember him suggesting to come get me I remember saying okay days later by the time he made the drive again I was feeling iffy about leaving my mom I loved her after all I didn't think through. I didn't put much thought into anything really. Packed a few clothes in a suitcase. Forgot all underwear. This is one of my sharpest memories. I felt bad that he drove eight hours to get to me so I left in the middle of the night. Got in the car to him and his cousin. He got in the backseat with me, proceeded to do things to me while his cousin drove, then get back in the front seat. This happened a few times between my home and his. The drive took forever. I had nothing to drink, was offered nothing when they got something.

They stopped a nap at a rest stop and I attempted to collect call my mom which was disabled on our phone I dug around for some change to get something to drink but couldn't afford anything in the convenience store so I drank out of the truck stop sink hours later we park a block away from his house while he runs to get something I am sitting in the back seat waking up from a nap when around eight or so men and women in black suits surround the car, screaming for us to get out with our hands up. My first thought was, first 10 minutes in New York and I'm already being robbed. I'm terrified.

I get out and a man pulls me over to the curb while the other officers force his cousin on the ground. All the while they are asking my name and age, telling me to tell his cousin my age. I am put in the back of an unmarked car, driven to the NYPD. Past reporters, cameras, news trucks. Snuck into the back of the station,

where I see Rob in handcuffs for the last time. And for the in-love 14-year 14 year old me this is devastating. I am taken into a room in question for hours. I am then taken to the hospital. Then a hotel where a nice woman brings me Taco Bell and stays with me as I fall asleep. The next day two FBI officers escort me home on a plane. Where I get off and where I am greeted by police officers, my mother and a horde of news reporters. I later found out that when my mom reported me missing the police didn't want to do much. They didn't even take the picture of me. She had his license plate number. She remembers seeing his car parked by the road that first meeting. She took notes

since it was an out-of-state car. Thanks for being vigilant. I do find this is the only reason I am alive today. The police said that they would look into it but that wasn't enough for my mom. She contacted a family friend who in turn contacted the governor of West Virginia who in turn made the police look further into it. After they ran the license number, looked into the man, found out who he was. That was when they issued an amber alert, noting that I was in extreme danger. My cousin told my mom that he looked at Rob's rap sheet and it was a mile long, but wouldn't tell my mother what was on it, for fear of scaring her

more. I never went to court, I never went to any hearings but I did fall into a horrible depression. My friend's parents wouldn't let them hang out with me. People spray painted terrible slurs on my locker at school. I had no friends but most of all I thought a man was in prison for loving me. When I learned he got sentenced to 10 years in prison, which he served every year of, I became deeply troubled. I was in and out of the mental hospital for self-harm for years on a slew of depression medications. Psychiatrists never talked to me about anything. I had to process it all myself. My teenage years were better though. I transferred schools, made best friends, graduated but still in the back of my mind I felt that I was the reason a man lost 10 years of his life.

Until I was told he was let out of prison. A couple of years after he was out I contacted him on Facebook. At the time I was around 24-25. He told me that if I ever contacted him again, he would end both me and my mother. That he still knows where I live. I had no idea what he was planning on doing with me. My mom still says selling me to a trafficker. I was told that he had other girls my age he was talking to. Some good things happened because of my kidnappings. Schools all over my state started internet safety education classes. Kids were taught safety.

Parents were taught how to keep kids safe. No other girls were taken by this man. So to the man who ruined so many years of my life, I am 29 now. I am happy, healthy, and I have zero remorse that you are now listed as a level 3 offender and that you were in prison for so many years. I was 16 at the time and I rode the public bus to and from school. This particular day I had done some special effects makeup before the end of my classes so I had fake blood running down my face and I couldn't be bothered to take it off before leaving school. Now I knew I was boarding my bus, people would stare or ask questions so I wasn't surprised when this man who looked to be

in his mid-thirties, started asking about the makeup. The conversation was normal at first, just the usual, oh wow, did you do that yourself? kind of stuff. I answered the questions as I normally would and expected the conversation to be done and over with. Boy was I wrong. This man, he mentioned his name was Joe, started steering the conversation into strange territory, asking me if I had a boyfriend, to which I lied and said I did. He then proceeded to ask if my boyfriend liked the makeup and if I was on my way to see him now. I again lied and said he likes the makeup and yes I'm going to see it. Trying to get Joe to believe someone was expecting me. The conversation died down for a bit and till we said this.

You know you remind me a lot of my sister. He said with a grin. I just smiled in response not really knowing what to say. After not hearing anything from me Joe continued. My sister was kind of an idiot. She was always lying about me to our parents. I had fantasies about breaking her jaw. Now at this point I was terrified. My bus stop was still another 30 minutes away and I just wanted to be out of that situation. Seeing that what he said made me uncomfortable he switched the subject telling me about where he worked and

what he does. I just nodded along to what he was saying remaining silent the entire time. Closer to my bus stop he says to me, why don't you come to my house? I have a freezer full of pizza and ice cream. Maybe we can hang out for a while. To which I politely declined, saying my boyfriend was expecting me. Finally, I get to my bus stop and quickly get off the bus, speedwalking all the way home, all the while calling a friend to inform them of what happened. Things were fine for a bit after that. I switched my bus routes so I wouldn't run into him again but one afternoon I had to go to a store that was on my old route. I was nervous about getting on that bus again but was happy when I didn't see Joe. I did my shopping and as I was leaving the store I saw Joe standing out by the doors staring at me.

The second I was out of the doors he walked over to me a grin on his face and wrapped his arms around me. I pulled away from him telling him I was very busy and had to go. He then asked well what are you doing? I have time I can tag along. I was very persistent, saying I really couldn't, I had to go, and I walked away, heading into a neighboring store that I knew would be busy. Sure enough, Joe followed. I ignored him as I made my way down a heavily populated makeup aisle, keeping my attention on some cheap lipsticks in the hopes that he'd get the hint and leave me alone. I was wrong. Joe reached over my shoulder, grabbing a red lipstick as he leaned in close and whispered, the color would look gorgeous on you. I can't wait to see you wearing it. He then placed the lipstick in my basket and walked away, leaving the store.

I remained in the store for about 20 minutes after he left, afraid to leave and make the walk home. After I mustered up the courage, I put the lipstick back, put away the basket and called a friend to stay on the line with me until I made it home. Now I don't know if he followed me home or not but I can say that after that day the motion detector porch lights started coming on at night and I started hearing knocks at my bedroom window. Thankfully I moved shortly after and haven't seen Joe since. I was about 13 when my family went on our annual trip to Poland to visit family. My mother and father both come from a small rural village about 2-3 hours away from Warsaw. It's an idyllic little place that is surrounded by lush forests and wheat fields. Life is different there. Everyone is very carefree and relaxed. Being the small place it is, everyone knows one another since everyone essentially lives on the same street.

I had made a bit of a reputation for myself, being known as the American girl who visits in the summers. So whenever we would arrive, the whole village would know. I loved the attention. All the kids wanted to play and adults doted on me. One of the townspeople I saw most frequently was Tomek. Tomek was a funny guy in his upper 20s who would work in the village deli store. He would always give me extra meat anytime my grandparents would send me out to pick food up or offer to show me inside the kitchen. I never took him up on that offer. The idea of seeing how my meat was made was too much for my 13 year old mind. Though I didn't know it at the

time, Tomek had the reputation of being the town lunatic. He wasn't a stranger to the police force nor the villagers as he was a bit of a petty thief. My grandparents told me when I got older that my grandfather had not once but twice caught him trying the doors of his shed and then excusing himself when caught as drunk and unsure where he was. Despite this, I had never had a reason to fear or avoid him. The village had a tradition called Gra Odwagi, which translates to the game of courage that would fall in between the dates of our visits. On this day, the village children would be set into teams and then given items to find that were hidden around the woods and or village perimeters. The event lasted all day and the group that had the most found items would win a prize. The courage part of the

game would be trying to attain the golden item which would be in the woods and guarded by a few adults armed with water sprayers and water guns. The only way to get the golden item was to avoid being sprayed with water. If all members of a team were hit then the team would lose the chance to attain it. My team consisted of my four friends Eva, Eric, Bartek and Powell. Our strategy was to get as many of the items around town and then try our luck at the golden object when it got darker in order to be harder to spot. We got a lot of the items throughout the day and worked up a good sweat after racing against the other children. Around 7pm we had attained 12 items that were ready to try our luck

at the golden item. We had heard from the other children that the adults were being relentless, guarding the object with ferocity. The wooden area that was the destination as the golden item area was behind Eric's house. Therefore, he took the lead in devising the plan. Our plan was that we were going to split up into two teams. Eric, Eva, Bartek were meant to grab the adults attention and drive them away as far as possible while Powell and I would sneak in and grab the item. Feeling confident we headed into the forest as the sun was slipping from the sky. We followed the dirt path for about five minutes and then stepped off it following Eric as he navigated through the shrubbery with ease. He stopped us as we reached a thick clump of bushes. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for us to look through the gaps in the shrubbery and see the adults. It was dark now, so it was hard to see who was actually guarding the items,

but we could make out four shapes huddled together, chatting softly. Without hesitation, we moved into our plan of action. Our three friends navigated around and disappeared from our sight only for us to hear their laughs and the voices of adults yelling to get them. Powell and I watched as the adults raced after our friends all abandoning the area they had stood around. I remember glancing around and getting ready to jump out of the bushes when I felt Powell's arm on my shoulder and saw him make a shushing sound they might not all be gone wait a bit he urged we sat quietly listening intently for any sounds then it happened the slightest sound of something moving on the other side of the clearing we couldn't make out who or what it was so we stayed quiet pe on the other side of the clearing. We couldn't make out who or

what it was so we stayed quiet, peering through the gaps of the shrubbery. Powell saw it first. He pointed out what looked like a dark figure crouching behind a tree closest to the clearing. We watched as the figure moved tree to tree, never steeping out from behind it, just simply observing. Just as I was about to suggest that one of us should cause a distraction we hear a yelp and turn to see another team approaching clearly happy that there seemed to be no one around where the golden item should be. We watched as this small group of two raced around the clearing but didn't pick anything up. I kept waiting for the adult to step out and spray the kids but the figure remained crouched, half visible behind the trees. One of the girls

approached the area the adult was but she was busy looking up at the tree, musing to her partner that maybe the object was put on a branch. We watched as she began pulling herself up the lowest branch and I remember the way my stomach dropped when all of a sudden we saw the adult shoot out from behind the tree, grab her leg and start pulling her into the darkness of the forest. Her partner ran off screaming leaving me and pal unsure what to do. We watched frozen with horror as the adult began covering the girl's mouth and some attempt to silence her before either one of us could do anything all of a sudden Tomek came running up

the path and threw himself onto the man pal shot out to help Tomek while I ran back to call for help when I reached the backyard that was the destination spot for the end of the game. I was screaming uncontrollably in a mix of words that took me a few attempts to get out, that help was needed. A large group of men raced towards the forest, while I hid in my mother's arms, waiting to see everyone arrive back safely. My friends, Eric, Eva, and Bartek, approached me cautiously and asked what happened and why Powell and I hadn't come back. It had turned out that after Eva, Bartek and Eric had distracted the adults and drove them away the adults had decided to end the time to get the gold item. They had assumed that everyone had a chance to try to get it and didn't want the kids wandering the forest after dark. One of the adults

had already pocketed the item when they chased our group back towards the main backyard. My team had assumed that we would see that there was nothing there and returned as well which is why they didn't come looking for us. As I retold what happened everyone in the backyard listened to me with wide eyes. About ten minutes passed and we saw the group of men coming back, Powell walking aside his father and the girl who had been attacked in the arms of her assumed father. As they all approached I asked Powell what had happened. As the parents gathered and talked in hushed voices,

Powell described to us how Tomac had beat the guy bloody but let him escape when he turned away, surprised by the men that had arrived to help. He mentioned that a few men were still out scouting the forest land for the guy. I then asked the remainder of my friends why help was not sent earlier by the girl's partner that had run away screaming. Everyone had looked at me with blank faces and the sudden realization hit me hard. The next events became a blur. It's a mix of me racing to my parents with my friends and asking about the girl, a frenzy of people calling out her name and begging her to come out, a whirlwind of everyone rushing to get their kids inside and mayhem,

adults swarming together to go search the woods again and call the police. It's been eight years now and she hasn't been found. Tomek was one of the main suspects, believed to be part of a two-man kidnapping operation but backed out when he saw that too much attention was brought to the event. I'm not sure whatever happened to him but I can't help but feel guilty that I didn't do anything to help either of those girls. I saw the girl run away. Powell and I were the last to see her. Sometimes when I see a child with braided hair I get thrown back to that night and I can still see her braids swirling around as her figure disappeared from sight. Six years ago this fall my sister and I were living with our grandparents.

I just started seeing my now wife and she spent a lot of and I were living with our grandparents. I had just started seeing my now wife and she spent a lot of time at the house with me too. So we were three young, attractive women all congregating in one place on a regular basis. We attracted some attention. My grandparents' house is in a small midwestern town. It's located in a quiet neighborhood, just a block off from a country highway. It has a long driveway, a big open lot on one side and a tree line on the other side. It also has a really big backyard that connects to several other backyards in the neighborhood. The first time I saw the man my wife and I had been out gravel traveling and talking about everything under the

sun. She was planning to go home that night, so she parked across the street from my grandparents' house so that we could finish our conversation before she dropped me off. I suddenly felt this feeling like I was being watched. I thought I was just being paranoid because we had been talking about creepy things, so I tried to shrug it off. Right before I got out of the car I noticed the silhouette of a man standing in the tree line on the side of my grandparents house. It was right around dusk so I couldn't see him well enough to get a description of him but I could tell he was there. I told my now wife and she told me not to get out. We sat there for a while, watching. She had tinted windows, he couldn't see us, but the man didn't move. After what felt like a really long time, I told her I was going I'd be fine. I took a deep breath, jumped out of the car and sprinted.

I turned and locked the door as soon as I stepped in the front door and grandpa could tell I was spooked. I told him what I'd seen and that I thought we should call the cops. He told me that my friend Kenny had been over while I was out. He was drunk and he was probably taking a leak in the trees before he walked through the backyard home. I still felt shaken but that reassured me a little bit. Fast forward, it's been about three days. My sister was at her boyfriend's, my love was at her place and it's about one in the morning so my grandparents were asleep. I was up reading articles on my laptop and decided it was time to go to bed. There's a big beautiful picture window in the living room that looks over the driveway. It only has small lace curtains that are completely sheer. I stood up across the living

room and saw... something. I jumped back and peered around the window frame for a closer look. There was a silhouette of a man standing at the end of my driveway. He was tall, well built and was wearing a baseball cap and seemed like he was looking right into the big window. I started to panic. My chair was visible from the window. How long had he been watching me? I ran to check that the garage door and front door were locked and ran down the hallway to knock on my grandparents' door. I heard my grandma say, come in. I told her what I saw and she woke up my grandpa. He walked out to the living room with me but no one was there. My grandparents were popular in the community because they were landlords and they helped people that were down on their luck.

He told me that it might have been Judd, one of their renters who borrowed a truck from them a couple of months back. He said I should go to bed and not worry about it. I went to bed feeling really uneasy but trying hard to convince myself that my grandpa was right. I mean, the silhouette I saw would kind of fit for Judd. The next sighting was the very next night. My love was still at her place, my sister and grandparents were in bed, and I was sitting in my chair reading creepy reddit stories. All of a sudden I heard movement in the garage. The garage is connected to the house and shares a wall with

the living room. I tried to convince myself that I was hearing things, that I was paranoid or maybe it was an animal. Then I heard movement again and a faint cough. I bolted up from the chair, checked the garage door lock and ran screaming for my grandpa. He jumped up from bed, grabbed his gun and went to check it out. There was no one there. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Grandpa sternly told me I needed to start going to bed at night instead of staying up and reading scary stories. He did lock the doors from the garage to the outside though. I went to bed, firmly convinced that there had been someone in the garage. The next morning I went to the basement though. I went to bed firmly convinced that there had been someone in the garage. The next morning I went to the basement to get my sister up. I asked her if she had noticed

anything weird at the house the last few days. She told me she thought she heard some weird noises outside her window a couple of nights before and that her dog had growled. Her dog never growled she explained to me and and she was scared. But we lived in such a small, sleepy, midwestern town. Bad things don't happen here. So she tried to convince herself that her dog was overreacting to something. Probably a squirrel. I told her about the last four days, and she was shocked. We told grandma and grandpa but they were convinced that it was a coincidence. Grandpa had checked himself twice after all. My sister and I agreed that we would keep watch for any weird things. Three more nights later and my wife came to stay the night with me. I had told her about the instances that were happening with me and my sister but she, like our grandparents,

thought that they were a coincidence. She even told me that we were being dramatic. I laughed it off and we continued with our plans for the night. Dinner, gravel traveling and reading in bed before we fall asleep. My wife liked to sleep on the side of the bed next to the window in my room. She would always crack the window just a little bit so she could feel the breeze come in from the backyard. It had rained earlier in the day and we had some really great breeze rolling through that night. Before we went to bed she walked to the window to crack it and I begged her not to. She and I went back and forth about it for a little while and she eventually relented and agreed to turn the fan on instead. We settled

into bed so that I could read her some articles and I fell asleep shortly after. The next thing I remember is hearing my wife yell at me to wake up now. After I fell asleep my wife took the opportunity to crack the windows anyway. Once she fell asleep she found herself waking up for no discernible reason. She decided that she must have to use the bathroom and walk down the hallway. Upon returning to the bedroom she saw a shadow move outside the bedroom window through the curtain. She stood stock still for a minute paralyzed and it didn't move so she crawled back into bed. She leaned in and kissed my cheek before turning to face the window where she saw a man staring directly at her through the open part of the

window. He was tall, well built and wearing a baseball cap. She jumped up immediately to slam the window shut and started yelling at me to get up. Suddenly my sister burst into my bedroom. Yelling Diesel was growling at the window again. I heard footsteps. What did you see? We sat up together for a while making our plans to tell grandma and grandpa in the morning before we went back to bed in the early hours of the morning. When we woke up we told my grandpa what had happened. When he looked around the house he found footsteps leading to both our windows and the backyard. He freaked out and told my grandma and said he was calling the police. My grandma told him not to bother because none of us had a detailed description so the police

wouldn't be able to do anything. He was probably just a peeping tom anyways which was harmless. She had a peeping tom as a little girl. We should just make sure that we're not naked or otherwise indecent in front of any windows with open curtains. They argued for a little bit and grandpa finally agreed with my grandma. He told the three of us girls though that we're not to leave the house alone for any reason after dark. He'd wait up until each of us got there if we were working late. Life went on. There wasn't any more activity and we figured that whoever had been watching us had moved on. We were still following grandpa's instructions but as young twenty-somethings it started to feel less urgent as the days went on without any happenings. We were feeling secure and safe,

though we weren't. Ten days after my wife saw the man peeking in through the window, my sister and I were up late doing college homework together. We each had assignments due online at midnight and were scrambling to finish them. I submitted mine at 11.50, my sister hers a few minutes later and we decided we were hungry. We didn't have any junk food in the house so we decided to go to McDonald's. We got the dog, got in the car, blared our music and left. We were having a good time driving through town, listening to our pumped up music and stuffing our faces but we knew we needed to get home for class in the morning. Instead of driving around to finish our music,

we decided to go home directly and pull into the driveway while our song was finishing up. We were gone for a total of 20 minutes and we sat in the driveway for about 3. We got out of the car to come up the long driveway, no care in the world besides getting to bed and start walking leisurely, joking and singing. Suddenly I heard a crunching noise, like someone stepping on a leaf. Diesel suddenly jumped behind us and started snarling. I remember hearing my sister scream run as we started sprinting up the driveway. We could hear the footsteps of someone running behind us and I just knew it was the dude that had been watching us. I knew that he was going to catch us and hurt us and I just knew it was the dude that had been watching us.

I knew that he was going to catch us and hurt us and all because we had been careless to leave the house so late at night for a burger. We got almost on the landing of the stairs and my sister shouted the dog's name. He came running up and ran into the house right behind us where we locked the doors. We never looked back to see who was chasing us but we both agreed it must have been the man who had been watching us. We started trying to catch our breath. Diesel was not trying to catch his breath though. He kept running to the living room window watching and growling. Then he'd run to us and just look for just a second like he was making sure we were okay. Then he'd run back to the living room window and growl again. As soon as she caught her breath my sister went to wake my

grandpa. The dog stopped growling. We called the police and told them what happened and they agreed to patrol the area. They never did find him but we never saw or heard from him again. It still makes my skin crawl to think of what would have happened to my sister and I if her dog hadn't rushed to our protection and what would have happened to my wife and I if she hadn't noticed him peeking under the open window. I'm just happy that we're all unhurt. From March to May of 2017 I toured Europe with my mom and sister. I was 16 at the time and were Australian. I'm the classic stereotypical Aussie teenage girl. Blonde, blue-green eyes, tan. I'd say I look average if it matters. Our trip, of course, happened to collide with all of the terrorist attacks.

We drove down the Westminster Bridge the week after the attack, saw all the memorials. We visited the Louvre a month after the machete attacks. We boarded the subway the day before a bomb was left on it and we'd taken the exact same route at the same time. We were in the Versailles Palace when a bomb threat occurred. We were in Manchester when the concert attack happened. You get the gist. Due to this, we were all on very high alert for the entirety of our trip. I think that explains my behavior in this story. So our trip mostly consisted of us staying in a hotel, apartment, or lodge for two or three days,

then driving on to the next place. I can't remember where this particular hotel was, and it's important to know that I'm a very go-with-the-flow person, so I didn't know where we were. I didn't care if it was an apartment or hotel. I just knew that on that particular day I was sick and I decided to stay in instead of go out into the freezing cold and get sicker. So my sister and my mom went on without me. About 10 minutes after they left I heard the door open. I'd been watching a movie on my laptop and didn't pay much attention to it. I figured maybe my mom had forgotten something and come back for it. Although the time lapse seemed a little long for that.

It still seemed like the most likely thing. But she didn't call out to me. I wondered if she thought I might be asleep or if it was a maid service. Usually they call out, Hello, anybody in here? I wondered if she thought I might be asleep or if it was a maid service. Usually they call out, hello, anybody in here? When they enter, but maybe they figured we were already gone. I waited, getting more and more concerned with every passing minute. I wasn't on high alert, but I already am a very paranoid person by nature.

And although I tend to diminish my own paranoia in the moment all I was thinking is oh my god you're so pathetic do you really think a robbery or something would take place with you in the room? I also admittedly succumbed to that paranoia a lot. I figured it was most likely a landlord if it wasn't a maid service. Again I didn't know if we were in a hotel or an apartment complex, so I did what any antisocial, anxiety-ridden, paranoid, victim-of-assault teenage girl would do and hid in the closet. Even at the time, digging myself beneath the bundles of blankets that they had shoved in there, I thought I was ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that I took a Snapchat of myself in the closet with a caption along the lines of is it a robber or the maid service in my room a day in the life of my name my friends

thought I was an idiot and I remember one messaging me and laughing about oh maybe it's another terrorist attack but I didn't answer her I was too focused on trying to figure out what the person who'd come in was doing. It sounded like they were going from room to room, raiding the place. I heard things being moved around and not in the way that they would be if someone was trying to clean underneath them or something. It was very rough. I heard doors open and close again and again. They even came into the room I was in and rummaged around for a while. I honestly don't know if they looked into the closet. I'd left the door open a bit, enough for them to peer into because it had caught on to something and closing it would

have caused more noise but I was hidden behind bundles and bundles of thick blankets. I'm a girl of very small stature so I wouldn't have been noticed. Finally it sounded like they left. I say they because I strongly suspect that there were two people. The footsteps and movements didn't really match up to just one person but I thought it was most likely my mom and that I was just paranoid and hallucinating. I waited a good 15 minutes after they left before I climbed out of my hiding spot. I was pretty unnerved but I came out and checked on our suitcases. We had left them open in the living room, barring our money and passports for all to see. Nothing looked disturbed, except the passports. My mom keeps all our passports in a ziplock bag.

The ziplock bag had been opened and the two passports had been pulled out. One was half in the ziplock bag like they'd opened it enough to check to see who it was and then ignored it. The second was left on top of the clothes. Someone had picked it up and looked through it. I opened it and it was mine. My mother came home several hours later and I asked her if she'd come back about 10 minutes after leaving, if she'd come back to get something she forgot. She looked perplexed and said no and I was honestly shocked. I asked if we were in a hotel with a maid service or if she had called the maintenance man to come by and forgotten to tell me. She started looking suspicious and said no and asked me why. I asked her if we had a landlord that might have come by. She said no. It hit me in that moment that an honest to god stranger had been in my hotel room while I was there. Still, it didn't feel like a big deal. Maybe they gave

someone the wrong keycard and they didn't realize until they went through the rooms and looked through our passports to see who was staying in the room. After all, nothing had been taken. I decided to go with my mother for the rest of the day, still unnerved about the experience. We were in the town chatting with some locals who asked where we were staying. We told them and they looked horrified. I wasn't there for the conversation but according to my mother they told her, I don't want to frighten you but I think you should leave that place immediately. We here have a suspicion that they're trafficking girls into different trades.

A lot of backpackers go missing after visiting there. We left that day and my mother didn't tell me the reason until we were in the car. For someone to have gotten into my room they would have needed to be allowed into the main doors by an employee or have a key card themselves to have access. Then they would have needed to have a key card to my room. I also suspect that maybe someone was watching on the CCTV cameras and saw my mom and sister leave and realized that I wasn't with them. It gives me chills to think about, but it never really hit me, considering even in the amount of time I've kept thinking I was the biggest idiot in the world for hiding in a closet

because I was scared of socializing with a maid service. But I think the fact that I kept thinking I was so dumb and paranoid and dramatic for it all throughout the experience might have saved me. It meant I kept a level head and listened for clues, that I didn't have adrenaline pumping through my veins and clouding my thoughts. I work at a grocery store as a cashier and I've met so many different types of people that I'd rather not meet again, but this one takes the cake for sure. The store I work at is open 24 hours and this was one of the first few times I had to work the night shift. Most people don't go grocery shopping past 10pm so night shifts are usually just one cashier and one manager or supervisor. My manager was in her office and I was just on my phone trying my best to stay awake. Since I don't usually work night shifts I was struggling a little bit once it hit about 12 30 a.m. It wasn't busy and the parking lot was

empty except for my car, my manager's car and another car sitting by the line of shopping carts. The car was running with the headlights off but with the interior lights on and a fairly large bald dude sitting hunched over with his hands, firmly holding the top of the steering wheel and staring inside the store. I was very startled by this because of how eerie and creepy it felt. After a few seconds of me staring back at him, he turned his car off and the interior lights and got out of the car. He started walking around to grab a cart. I wrote it off as maybe he didn't know we were 24 hours and was trying to read the sign on the door.

I ignore the fact that he would have needed his headlights on to read it. He came into the store and started scanning the aisles. I went back on my phone because it was just an average Joe then I didn't want to make him uncomfortable. About 15 or 20 minutes go by and he comes up to the checkout with a cart full, and I mean full, of jars of mayonnaise and a singular vegetable platter. This was just so confusing but I tried not to be judgmental. He took a little while to start unloading the cart because he was scanning the magazine racks that most registers have right there at a checkout. We grabbed one of those teen celebrity magazines like 17 or J14 or something which didn't help his creep factor. He started unloading the cart and I scanned the jars as soon as they came up so that this would go as fast as possible. He greeted me with a hi how are you young lady but in a daffy duck impression.

I was so confused and creeped out but I just said that I was well and asked him how he was. He responded with I'm just so dandy on this fine evening in the same daffy duck voice. I was beginning to get more scared rather than creeped out. I ignored it and asked him if he had a rewards card for our store. He said no in a normal voice. I told him the price of his transaction and he fumbled around in his pockets for his wallet. He asked me if I liked his impression and if it was good. Honestly, the impression was pretty spot on which and if it was good. Honestly the impression was

pretty spot on which is why it was freaking me out so much. I told him that it was good trying to stay polite and calm. He handed me some cash and I opened the register to get his change. As I was handing him his change he held on to my hand and leaned over the credit card machine. He asked me if I've ever been to a party with that much mayonnaise. I said no and pulled my hand away which he reluctantly let go of. He was still leaning over the credit card machine and said, well I won't get into too much detail but the mayonnaise is not for veggies. He winked and put his change in his wallet and began taking his grocery bags and putting them in his cart. He began acting like he was in pain and asked me to help him put

the bags in his car. I was not about to do that because this guy was beyond creepy. I told him that I wasn't allowed to leave the register because I was the only one working. He tried to push it but I told him again that I was not allowed to leave the register. I was the only one working. He tried to push it but I told him again that I was not allowed to leave the register. I don't know if that was actually a rule but neither did he so I used it as an excuse not to go with him anyway. He gave me a puppy dog face and pleaded with his hands and I told him once again that I was not allowed to leave and that if he didn't stop I would call my manager down. He stopped immediately, scoffed at me and left without saying another word. He loaded his car and left the cart in

the parking lot, enough though the line of carts was right next to his car, like literally three feet away. I'm assuming he probably wanted to see if I would come out and put it back but I wasn't going out there. He got in his car, turned it on and resumed the same position that he had been in before I came in. I called my manager down after like three minutes of him just sitting there again just like before because it was really scaring me at this point. She came down and looked out the window at him and he drove away. I told her everything that happened and she said that I was in the right by not going with him and that if I saw him again to call the police. Apparently this wasn't the first time he'd done something like this during the night shift to a couple of other female co-workers.

Needless to say, I made sure I never had another night shift again after that. For some backstory, I'm female, 18 now. I was 13 when this encounter happened. This might be kind of long but bear with me. This encounter happened around 2013 and I was a part of this girls only group. We'd meet up every week and just hang out and do teenage things. There were different locations around my city and obviously went to one closest to me. It was about a 10 minute drive from my house. The building where we met was at a massive local park near a lake which made for plenty of fun times. The group was for girls aged 13 to 17 so we generally all got along well. The particular group that I was in met on Thursday nights and there was 9 of us.

Two were my family friends who were also my lifelong best friends, them and two other girls and I went to the same school. There was this camp every year. The goal was to do everything yourself. So we had to set up our own campsite, make all our dinners, etc. It was really fun. I had been two times previously. It's a competition and our group split into two.

Me, Erin, Izzy and Jess. The other five girls were in another group. One thing we had to do to prepare was to go shopping for food so we did that one night and spend the other few nights packing everything we would need like tents, portable stove, stuff for a fire, etc. My friend Aaron and I were in the same class at high school so the Friday afternoon of the camp we left early and her mom picked us up. We live in the same street, so we got our things and carpooled there with the other girls, Izzy and Jess. The park where all the camps were was massive. We stopped for pizza along the way. The first few nights of the camp went well. We stayed up all night eating candy

in our tent, sneaking out and walking around the massive park, talking, playing truth or dare, and never have I ever, you know, normal teenage girl things. On the last full day, we did an activity that we chose prior to going to camp. Out of all the girls in my group, I was the only one who had chosen to do archery, and I only knew two other girls from my main group and I got to know some of the other girls I didn't know from the other groups. During the activity the leaders started acting weird. They were looking at each other whispering and talking on their walkie-talkies. The girls I knew from our group back at home who weren't in my group at the camp were doing archery too.

So I hung around with them and we were discussing why we thought the leaders were being this way. The leaders seemed to get more scared every minute and they called us all over and told us to go into one of the buildings because we were going on lockdown. I stuck with the girls and me and some other activity groups went inside. Everyone else from the other activity groups went to the building on the other side of the park including the girls from my group at this camp. We hung out there chatting with everyone for maybe an hour and we talked about the camp so far and then about what we thought was going on. This one girl named Chloe said that a girl had seen a naked man with

a knife walking around in the woods and another girl named Monique said that there were a gang in the woods who knew of the girls camp and wanted to find someone to snatch up. We were all freaked out either way. Then they offered bathroom breaks. We went into groups of four outside of the bathrooms and two leaders escorted us. There were two cop cars outside and I felt really uneasy. We started to talk amongst ourselves but the leaders led us

to the bathrooms and told us to keep shush. When we got into the bathroom they explained everything. A girl in the orienteering group, her name was Piper, had spotted a naked man holding a knife so Chloe was correct. They told us it was all going to be okay and that the cops were searching. They called everyone's parents and the police finished their search. When this was done one of the cops came into our building and said they got the guy and we were all safe. We were let back to our campsites and when I saw my friends from the other buildings back at the tent I hugged them and they asked if I was okay and I asked them the same. Fortunately no one was hurt but the girl who saw the man, Piper, went home and was obviously

traumatized. We were supposed to cook our own dinners that night on the fire but to celebrate the leaders ordered a ton of pizza, soda and fries for us just to have a massive feast. We were all incredibly scared that night and we didn't sneak out of our tent like we had the other nights. Even though the guy had been arrested we were all still creeped out. The next year there was this girl in my class named Hannah. I found out she was part of the same girls club I was but from another location in my city. I slightly recognized her after she told me this. I brought up the incident at the camp from the previous year and she was at the camp too.

She was part of the orienteering group that saw the guy. She told me that indeed he was naked and had a knife. I'm guessing he was on something but either way it was creepy.