The Lets Read Podcast - 60: Episode 053 | Obsessive Stalker & Haunted Town Stories | 24 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: January 13, 2020

Welcome to the fifty-third 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 College Campuses, Haunted Towns and Obsessive Stalkers.  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 

If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get a pro at Tread Experts. Conquer rugged terrain with on-road comfort. Until June 15th, receive up to $60 on a prepaid MasterCard when you purchase Kumo Road Venture AT52 tires. Find a Kumo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there, treadexperts.ca. I started my freshman year of college at a university in my hometown that's pretty nice. I'm not going to share too much about it but it has a smaller amount of students but enough that you don't

really run into people too often. I lived on campus and I was only 17 at the time. I had tinder of course as I was fresh out of a relationship and looking to experience new things in college. I matched with this one boy, Asher, who seemed nice enough. Pretty socially awkward but I never really minded because I have anxiety issues myself and I'm really sympathetic to it. Because of that, I ignored a lot of the warning signs I should have. We texted for a while and he seemed really nice and caring. He wanted to know a lot about me which I wasn't too keen on sharing but I told him the basics and we texted kind of regularly. He lived on campus as well and invited me to hang out.

At that time things didn't seem too sketchy so I was completely down. When I first met him that's when things started to get uncomfortable. We hung out in his dorm which was pretty standard overall. I got cozy with him on his couch. I'd say almost cuddling but not quite. Still really standard. When we started talking more I realized how uncomfortable things really were. He kept making comments that just put me off but I tried to ignore them. Things like, I've never cuddled with anyone before, sorry if I'm doing it wrong, and so many comments about how he really liked me a lot and wanted me to stay forever. Weird word choice but whatever, he's just trying to be nice. I'll let him down easy, I thought.

I ended that hangout pretty quickly for some fake excuse and went right back to my room. He kept texting me and professing how much he was into me and I told him, sorry, but I'm not looking for any kind of relationship so I do not want to keep things from Manic. A bad lie, but I'm very non-confrontational and didn't want to be mean. That's when things started to get really weird. He sent me this long paragraph saying about how it was okay I didn't want a relationship now but he'd wait for me and save his virginity for me. We had never talked anything like that before. I never even really told him I liked him or even flirted back, I just never turned him down. It was one of the creepiest messages I'd ever received. Unfortunately, that was just the start of all the weird things to come.

He wouldn't leave me alone even though I kept trying to deescalate things and I kept running into him all over campus. I wasn't sure how he suddenly was nearby when classes ended and I wasn't sure why suddenly we'd both be in the dining hall at the same times even though I hadn't changed my regular routine but I just tried to brush it off. Definitely a mistake. I ended up turning him down completely because I was getting creeped out and couldn't figure out how he wasn't understanding that I didn't want anything romantic with him. He started guilt tripping me, telling me about how he was going to hurt himself and no one was ever going to love him. I've been in manipulative relationships in the past and I recognized that behavior right away and shut it down. I told him I couldn't be friends with him and in my head that was that.

He didn't reply for a while but when he did everything went to chaos. I was luckily out of town at the time for a concert so that made me feel a lot better. He went off, sent me paragraph after paragraph about how horrible of a person I was and how I was just all these terrible names and needed to be put in my place. Regular R nice guy things. I could handle that, I just ignored it. Then, once the regret set in, he made it his mission to win my love however possible. He apologized profusely, told me how he couldn't be all alone and I was his only friend, and how much he loved me. Whatever. Terrible, but I didn't care about that.

Then, I guess to prove his dedication dedication he did the creepiest thing yet. First he told me he was outside of my room. We did not live in the same dorm building and you can't get into the buildings unless you live there. I don't know who let him in. I wasn't there and my roommate was out so that was okay. I texted back at that point and told him to leave and how wrong and creepy that was and he pulled out his last resort. He just sent me screenshots of my contact in his phone. On Apple devices you can fill in tons of information and have a note section. Everything was entirely full. He knew my home address, my room number on campus, my parents and brothers names, my pets names, my schedule. He was terrifying because I'm a fairly private person.

My Instagram is my only social media and I do not share that much on it. I don't think I'll ever find out how he discovered all of that about me. I blocked him on everything right away and reported him to the school. The school did nothing at all. I still see him on campus and he still tries to approach me when he sees me. I always duck and run and it's worked so far. To the terrifying tinder match who may still be following me around to this day, please leave me alone. I'm a female, 23 now, in the story I was 21 with a 4 month old baby. He's mine and he's 2 now. I'm about 5 foot 9,

a bit overweight and I have social anxiety around new people. I went with my sister, 26, 5 feet tall to her work as she worked at a very nice restaurant in a shopping center and we went straight there for her 6pm start after being in the city all day, collecting money for a cat rescue. I'm just chilling out, eating good food and binging on Reddit when I decide I want to smoke. I know, bad habit. So I pack up the kidlet and let my sister know I'm going out to the car to park to have a smoke as she passes through the dining area. The car park was about 70 meters away from the restaurant, had good lighting and

because it was so late, I could hang around near the doors. This is where it gets creepy. The security guard was doing his rounds, about my height, an Indian. He decides to check on me. I mean, that's cool man, I'm just having a smoke. And the conversation went something like this. How you doing? You okay? I'm pretty good, just waiting for my sister to get off of work. Good, good. You're a baby. Very cute baby. I have four at home.

You got a husband? Yes, he's my baby. That's good. I have a fiancé. A complete lie. I was 100% single, but he was already making me anxious. I can be husband. I look after baby for you. I look after you. No thanks. I'm sure your wife wouldn't appreciate that.

No, no, no. Wife love baby. Wife will love you. You come home with me? I finish my smoke. been moving the pram further away from him each second. No thanks, I'm going now. He then follows me inside. I go all around the mostly closed shopping center hoping to lose him and Coles. I lost him for about five seconds but Coles had shut for the night. The only place left open was my sister's work so I went back there even though I didn't want him to know where I was. As I was about to walk into the restaurant I saw him coming up the escalator. He was still

watching me. I take the last two steps towards the hostess who happened to be the owner's daughter and told her what was going on. At this point the security guard is standing in front of the restaurant still staring at me. The hostess takes me to a semi-secluded booth and goes to talk to her dad about the situation. As she is gone creepy security guard came into the dining area, searched for me, and then came and sat in my booth, way too close to me and my child. How old you? I want to ravish you pretty women. You be mother to my babies. We make cute babies. At this point, it was very clear that I was very uncomfortable. He still made it worse. Don't worry, I security, I protect you and baby.

He's reaching across the table with one hand now, the other hand is reaching towards my pram. I'm frozen. I don't care about the hand near me, I'm watching the other one. Nobody touches my baby. I'm about to snap, go full mama bear mode when the owner, 40s to 50s, 6 foot plus, big wide build of the restaurant steps in asking if there's a problem. Is there a problem here? English is not his native language, but he gets the point across. His English skills deteriorate when he gets angry. This is important to the story, I promise. No problem, just talking to my lovely lady. This is a customer. Has she done something wrong?

No, never. She's my lady. See, we're going to get married. He begins to grin creepily. The silent warning to play along is etched into his face. Finding comfort in the presence of the manager. Please just leave me alone. I just want to eat my dinner. Oh funny lady. See we we joke. I don't I don't know you. Please just leave me alone. She says she wants you to leave now. She's just messing. She loves me. I've been waiting for you, my pretty lady. He leaves at that point. The manager makes sure I'm okay and moves to the employee break room and fills my sister in.

Two hours later and my sister has finished her shift. We pack up and head to the car. SG, the security guard, out of nowhere, he was actually waiting for me. I take pretty lady and baby home now. Come on pretty lady, we go home. Like an angel steps out from his car, right behind the security guard. She's going home. With her sister. Oh, pretty lady of mine. She come home with me.

Get in the car. I take care of this. So we get in the car and go home. Found out the next day from my sister that her boss had physically restrained the security guard because he went to grab my arm as I was getting in the car. And then got him fired and permanently banned from that shopping center. In my mid-twenties I was bouncing around, I couldn't settle on what to do and after a long and terrible relationship was mostly interested in having fun.

I was at university but wasn't the most committed student. I'd been working at a restaurant in a hotel but hated it and a friend told me about working as a receptionist in a brothel. It's completely legal where I live and said the money was decent. It fit in well with university, it wasn't difficult and if clients were rude you could just kick them out, unlike hospitality where you had to be polite all the time. I found a place that was looking for receptionists and went for an interview and got a job. And it was fine. I mean, not the most interesting job in the world, but it paid okay. I could smoke out the back, back when cigarettes didn't cost $50 a pack.

I could study if it was quiet. And I know what everyone is thinking at this point. Receptionist is code for worker, and I promise it isn't. I have no proof, but lying about it doesn't make the story any better. In fact, if I were one of the workers or the ladies of the night there, it might be an even more interesting story. Sadly, no such excitement in my life. We had regular clients and they all had reputations of some kind. This guy only books half an hour but always extends his bookings at least once. This guy will pay extra for dirty talk and a lot of it was innocuous, just information passed between people that we as receptionists always

heard all about. But some of it was more along the lines of a warning. This guy will try and remove the protection. This guy wants to spank but won't ask first. And then there was the doctor. The doctor had a lot of money and would potentially book multiple workers for a long time. He paid well for reasonably boring extras, like fancy lingerie or roleplay, aka nurse's uniforms, but he had a big red warning sign above his head. The first time he came in, one of the other receptionists warned me, no one has to do an intro with him if they don't want to. Warn the girls, it's the doctor. I called the intro, i.e. I went into the staff room and said,

intro in meeting room 1, which generally meant that every available worker should go in, say their name, flirt, whatever, after which one of the receptionists would find out who they wanted to see and how long for, and all the workers stood up and then said, it's the doctor, and all but two sat back down. So I immediately asked what the deal is and they explained that he likes cocaine, he likes workers who like or pretend to like it as well and he is a neurosurgeon who gets access to all sorts of weird stuff and often his use is far from pure. Not cut with drain cleaner but cut with pharmaceuticals like anesthetics used for

surgery. He also enjoyed drug insertion. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks. He was sometimes belligerent if workers refuse him after they've started the booking. And he was just creepy. When we go into check with him, he'd try and grab us, make us, the receptionist, sit down. And to be clear, I'm not what people would consider attractive. Plus he'd do it with all the receptionists. He'd grab her hands and try and stroke her arms. He had this super intense stare like a mannequin that could actually make eye contact. I know that sounds weird but it's hard to describe. It's like he was staring right into you but also not seeing you at all. His expressions were weird and just didn't work on his face.

Like his mouth would smile or move but his eyes would change from that intense stare. I guess it might have been what he was on but it was deeply unsettling and just made you feel sick. Having said all that, there were a few experienced workers who knew how to handle him, get the most out of him whilst experiencing the least possible risk. It's possible to fake snorting something, I didn't know this before that point, hence giving workers the option to meet the client. I can't remember if he saw anyone that first time. If I recall correctly, he had a handful of bookings in the time I was working there. We did have strict instructions not to ever let anyone do an out call with him.

This is booking at anywhere other than the brothel. Plus, we had a few other harm minimization strategies. Then after a while, one of the workers who was okay with seeing him left to go traveling and no one else would see him, so he gradually stopped coming in as no one would intro him. I moved on receptioning at a different brothel. A new one had opened closer to where I lived and the pay was better and he showed up again there. I knew he would frequent all the places he could until his reputation overtook him. When he showed up at the new place I told all reputation overtook him. When he showed up at the new place I told all the workers about him and no one was okay with seeing him. He only tried a couple more times before he abandoned us. A year or so later I had moved on to a different job.

I couldn't do night shifts anymore and I was chatting with a friend from the brothel who said oh my god did you hear about the doctor? He whacked someone and got arrested. And it was true. The doctor had done that to a worker who had been sent to his apartment. The worker lay dead in his bed for two days. Officially it was manslaughter and he also pled guilty to supplying the... substance that ended another worker. All this happened because A. he's a terrible dumpster fire human and B. because one awful

brothel manager and the owners behind her put profits in front of safety and kept sending workers to bookings with him without giving them full warnings and specifically sending inexperienced workers and without keeping them full warnings, and specifically sending inexperienced workers, and without keeping them in house. It later came out that the medical board had known of his addiction for many years prior to his arrest, and it helped cover up some botched surgeries. It was horrifying to hear about, and we both spent some time telling stories we knew about him, but then I mostly forgot about it. Then I was chatting with an old friend the other day who reminded me of him and I got on Google. I found out that he's been released from prison. I hope not practicing medicine but he could be anywhere now. Now.

I had an encounter in December of last year that left me feeling very unsettled. I was in a vulnerable position as my partner and I, both female and homeless, had just purchased an RV to live in but were having trouble finding a spot to rent because it was an older model and we have pets. We parked in the farthest corner of the Walmart parking lot in Bend, Oregon around 10am one day. My partner had errands that needed to be ran and took a bus to do such as I held down the fort and watched the dogs. It was going to be a long day of waiting around for her to get back so we could leave. I went into the store twice to make some purchases earlier in the day. I worked on some maintenance and art before getting bored enough to take a nap. As I was taking the dogs outside beforehand, two police officer vehicles pulled up and parked right next to the RV.

At this point, I'm preparing for them to ask me to move the vehicle or tell me I can't park overnight or something. After a while of nothing I fell asleep anyway. When I woke up I could tell it was getting toward the evening. The sun was still very much up and considering the police presence I wasn't particularly in the mindset of anything bad happening. Still, I always carry my pepper spray on me. My partner was not back yet, although I expected her late. She had her only phone, so I went to the store to check the time. The officers had already moved at this point and the parking in the general area was pretty barren, save for one van parked in the spot right behind the RV. I entered the store and went to the restroom in the front. Then I walked to the electronics department to see what time it was on the displays.

It was a few minutes before 6pm. I left after only having been in there a few minutes. As I was walking out the door, the crowd in front of me slowly dispersed to veer toward their respective vehicles. I continued walking behind one man who the owner of the van by my RV. He walked with clear direction, not looking around for where his car was or anything. After passing the main crowd of the parking lot I got my pepper spray out of my pocket and held it in hand as a routine safety measure. The man walked between the back of the RV and the driver's side door of the van. I figured he was about to get in but instead he lingered. I stopped walking in that direction

and headed toward a more populated parking area at the next store across the street since it was closer than Walmart from his end. Then he looked at me and we made eye contact for a minute. It felt like he recognized me, as if though he'd been stalking me out and was surprised to see me leaving the store so soon. I continued to walk away while staring at him and he watched me before slipping around the side of my RV where there were some bushes and a fence with no outlet. I got out at this point so I got into the other store and walk around blankly staring at things for a bit trying to formulate a plan it's pretty busy in there with no one at the customer service

desk so I go into the gas station next door and ask to use the phone I call my partner to explain the situation and tell her not to go directly to the RV. Then I headed back into Walmart, got a coffee at the McDonald's inside and waited there for another hour till she was able to return. Perhaps I should have called the police as I was worried about my animals. The little dog would bark but they're not guard dogs and my possessions being stolen. But I had recently called 911 witnessing domestic violence a few days prior only to have them take two hours to show up in the middle of downtown. I was worried they would not only not help but possibly harass me for parking there. I don't have a driver's license so having to move the RV before my partner returned would be a dangerous situation. When she arrived we went to the RV together.

The van was gone. Nothing was touched despite one of the windows not locking properly but the pets were very spooked. Maybe they decided against stealing after I caught them. But I'm not well off and honestly one look at that beat up old thing would tell you I don't have much worth taking. Honestly, just from the look in that guy's eyes, I felt like he wasn't after material possessions. I'm an American living in France. At the time of this incident I was working in a hotel kitchen for a five-star hotel. I had to drive 30 minutes, catch a 30-minute metro and then walk another 10 minutes to get to and from this hotel. I'd work from 3am to 3pm every day. The boss was an idiot and the customers were uppity idiots who thought 5 star meant that staff are not human.

Basically, it sucked. One day I was having a particularly terrible shift. My hair was gross, my face was numb from smiling at rude customers, and all I wanted was to go home, take a shower, and go to sleep. So I put my earphones in and waited for the metro. At this stop it was super busy so the metro opened from both doors letting people get on one side and off the other. The rest of the stops weren't as busy so they only opened on the opposite side so people could get out. When the metro arrived I stepped on and stopped next to the door that wouldn't open again knowing I could lean back for the rest of the trip. Then a man in an electric wheelchair rolled on and he stopped just in front

of the same door as I was planning to lean against. He had a couple of bags hanging from the back of his chair and he wasn't pulled up enough so the doors would shut on his bags. I knew the doors would close and remain closed so instead of just telling him to pull up a bit, I held the bags forward a bit so that they wouldn't get caught in the door. The door closed, I let go, and the guy smiled at me. Then he started talking to me. I had my earphones in so I couldn't hear what he said. I was exhausted but I'm a nice person so I took them out and talked to him. He clearly had a disability as his speech was pretty hard to understand. My French isn't bad but it wasn't good enough to understand him. So I told him I'm sorry I don't speak French.

He immediately switched to English. I thought but again I'm nice so I kept talking to him it was a normal conversation where are you from what are you doing here how long you been here yada yada yada then he said you're beautiful are you getting off at x I was a little weirded out but I said no I'm getting off at W which is one stop before. He said get off at X with me you can come over and we can hang out. I politely declined and he said kiss me. Forget it I thought. I said no and put my earphones back in ignoring him. He kept talking but I couldn't hear him and I was blatantly ignoring him. Then he pushed a loud buzzer on his chair to get my attention. Everyone was looking at us now and I would have looked like a jerk if I'd kept ignoring him. So I pulled my earphones out and he kept trying to talk to me, asking me if I had a boyfriend, if I wanted to be his girlfriend, if I would kiss him.

Keep in mind that I'm like 20 at this point and he's a solid 50. Finally, my stop arrives. I say goodbye and he rolls out of the metro with me. I told him this isn't his stop and he said, I'm coming home with you. I was thoroughly creeped out but I figured I could ditch him easily at this point. We were two floors underground and I could easily run up the stairs before he could get on the elevator. Feeling like a complete idiot for trying to ditch a disabled guy I stick to my plan, sprinting up the stairs, tripping a few times as I do. I get up to the ground floor and walk outside, satisfied that he's gone. As I'm walking to my car, I hear that buzz. He's behind me, zooming pretty fast after me. I start running, terrified of this dude who will

not leave me alone. I get to my car and I'm so freaked out that my hands are shaking and I have trouble getting the keys in the car. Finally, I do. I hop in and put it in reverse. When I check the mirror, there he is, parked behind my car and buzzing at me. I don't know what to do at this point. I can't reverse and run him over. I'm certainly not getting out to talk to him, but I have to get home so I can't just sit there all day. This standoff lasted for about 10 minutes before he finally just strolls away, glaring at me as he does. I peel out of there and drive home, shaken but satisfied that I'd seen the last of that guy. The next morning as I pull into the parking lot, still sleepy but ready for work, I get out of the car,

get down to the metro and there he is, waiting on the platform. I'd forgotten that the day before I told him that I work every day from 3am to 3pm. He knew I would be there and he knew when. He smiled when he saw me and started rolling over. I book it back up the stairs, calling my boss on the way and telling him that I'll be late to work. I end up just driving into the city, wasting gas and spending a ton of money on parking. I haven't seen him again and I've since started going to a different metro station. There are a few other stations that I can park at, but they're sketchy. This guy had very limited movement he could only use his fingers enough to move the chair so I know there's probably nothing he could

have done to hurt me and he was probably just a lonely guy who wanted someone to talk to but I still panic every time I see a wheelchair. When I was growing up, we lived in Baltimore City until I turned 12. This incident happened, I believe, when I was around 7 or 8. I don't remember exactly, but I know it was definitely before I turned 9 because my older brother left for boot camp and then later deployed when I was nine. Both my brother and mother were and are in the military and he was still at home and not yet in the military when this happened. Also I am mute. I was born with deformed vocal cords which isn't super important but it does affect the story somewhat. Our house was only six blocks from my school

and I would walk home by myself on some days. Sometimes my brother would meet me at my school and walk me home but he played football and baseball and sometimes would be at his school for practice. My mother worked 12-hour shifts as a nurse so some days she would pick me up, others she wouldn't. Of course, she wasn't too keen on me walking home, but me being a stupid and naive kid had nagged her enough to where she finally let me walk home on those days instead of taking the bus. It was only six blocks, and again, being a kid, it made me feel mature and responsible. I know, stupid me. My mother has always been worried about predators,

like most parents are, but she worried that me being mute would make me an easier target since I can't scream. I do always carry a whistle around my neck and the importance of stranger danger has been drilled into me by my mom. She also had me learning self-defense since I was four but again, I was only seven or eight at the time and I hadn't exactly mastered any of these skills. On the day of this event I was walking home by myself. I was a very lonely kid who didn't have any friends. I'm not announcing that for pity or anything just to help you understand why I was alone. I usually did a pretty good job of being mindful of my surroundings but again,

I was a kid and my mind would sometimes wander and daydream like any other normal kid. I was about halfway home when it happened. I was passing by a narrow alleyway and out of nowhere I felt myself grabbed very roughly from behind. I felt my body just freeze up in panic. One thing I remember very vividly was the odor. This guy smelled terrible. Just awful B.O. Like nasty old gym socks that you left in the bottom of your locker and forgot about them until the end of the school year or something. I could feel his hot, horrible breath against the back of my head and neck.

He was breathing heavy, like a dog does when it's hot out. He didn't say a word. I just remember his arms wrapped so tightly around me. Looking back now, I realize he must have been watching me for a while because he never tried to cover my mouth. He must have known that I was mute. Even though it was just a few seconds, it felt like time slowed. I couldn't move, like my brain just wouldn't tell my body to move or something. I remember seeing the sidewalk get further away as he pulled me back into the alley. Finally, my body woke up, and I started flailing as hard as I could. I don't know if he was actually strong or if he was just because of his age, but his grip felt like it was going to crush me.

I kept trying to reach my hand up to grab my whistle and try to get it in my mouth, but my arms were pinned at my sides with his arms around me. I was kicking my legs as hard as I could. I felt so helpless. No matter how hard I tried, I could not break free, not even a little bit. I remember a thought flashing in my head that this was the kind of thing my mom and teachers had always warned us about. It made me even more scared. I tried kicking my heels back into him, hoping maybe I'd get lucky and nail a shin or something. No such luck. It just made him squeeze me tighter. He was squeezing so tight I could barely breathe. I guess it was the combination of being squeezed like that in the fear of what was

happening. But I started feeling dizzy and faint. That was the most terrifying moment because I felt like if everything went black that I'd never wake up again. My head was starting to droop down and I could feel myself getting very weak. From out on the street, I heard someone scream and I managed to raise my eyes and saw two figures running towards us and yelling. The guy holding me immediately let me go. I had been up in the air and kind of landed on the concrete in a heap, gasping. I was shaking so hard. My backpack felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

I could hear the footsteps of the two people running towards us and the footsteps of the other guy running away down the other side of the alley. I could feel one of them tear past me. I felt the breeze as he passed and even heard the sound of it in my ear. The other person must not have wanted to leave me there and stopped. I was still in this daze, a little dizzy and in some kind of shock I guess. I felt their hand touch my shoulder and ask if I was okay. This jolted me out of the daze and I just bolted. I didn't look at them or anything, I just took off down the alleyway and sprinted to our house. I got inside, locked the door and just collapsed into a ball in the

foyer. All my emotions caught up with me then and I just sobbed and sobbed. I laid there for what felt like forever. I was still there when my brother came in from practice. I was still very visibly upset and he immediately wanted to know what was wrong. I explained what happened, though I'm sure it was not nearly as coherent as the way I'm telling you now since I was still extremely shook up. He called the police immediately and then my mom. My brother was a decently sized guy and I'm sure he wanted to hurt the smelly guy down, but he sat on the steps with me in his lap until the police came. The police in that area don't exactly have the best response times, but they actually arrived fairly quickly. My mom got there shortly after they did, of course out of her mind with worry and anger.

My brother and mom helped me relay to the police what happened. I communicate through ASL and they translate to the police for me. Since I couldn't give a description, I never actually saw the guy. They said they'd be on the lookout for anyone acting suspicious but the chances of finding him were extremely slim. However, it turns out the two guys that ran into the alley to help me had called the police as well and were able to give somewhat of a description, though apparently the guy had a knit cap with a hood up as well so unless he was wearing the same clothes, he'd be hard to find. To be honest, I don't think the police really took it that seriously overall since Baltimore

is a pretty dangerous place and way worse crimes happen there constantly. They gave me the whole be careful from now on speech and left. My mother and brother checked in with them pretty regularly for quite a while but they never found the guy. Needless to say my mom definitely didn't let me walk home by myself anymore. I began taking the bus which would drop me off right at our house and my brother worked it out with his coaches that he could be home when I got home. We ended up moving to Washington state a few years later when I was 12 and I only go back to Baltimore every once a year or so to visit my grandparents though I never went back to our old neighborhood again. I hate to think about what would have happened to me had those two guys not run into that alleyway after me. Thank you to them. I'm eternally grateful.

I was on a cruise ship for Thanksgiving and went with my entire family. As an attempt to get away from my brothers, I stayed in my grandparents' cabin. On the first day of the cruise ship, I walked around meeting people and some of the people I met were really into basketball, as I was. So we set up a scrimmage late at night so we could all eat dinner and whatnot. The only problem was that the basketball courts closed at 7 so we would have to sneak in. My little group was playing every day and became my late night routine. Skip forward to the last night on board where my group was playing a pickup game as we always did. I felt a buzz from my pocket so I stopped playing for a second and read my text

message. It was from an unknown number saying to go check on your grandparents. So not thinking twice I said goodnight to my friends and went to my floor. After the long walk and the elevator ride I made it to my floor. I arrived on the complete opposite side of my room so it was a long walk. As I was walking I see this tattooed man staring at me on my left side. I am a paranoid person so of course I admittedly thought something was going to happen. We walked past each other, no problem, but he stops and says, excuse me, did you see the gentleman who came out of this room? And I replied, no. The mini conversation was over. We both went our ways,

so I thought. I took a glance behind and now he was walking in my direction. I sort of slowed down to see if he will pass, but when he gets close enough, I remark, I'm such an idiot, my room is on the other side. The creepy man looks a little angry and says, You're lying. Your room is at the front. Here, let me take you to your grandparents. My face turned white. However, I knew what would lie ahead of me if I went with him, so I took off running. I looked behind me to see if he was chasing me, but he wasn't.

So I stopped running and started walking. I was relieved until I heard loud footsteps so I looked behind me once again and it was the man chasing after me so I started to run again. The man caught up and grabbed me but for some reason I was so scared I couldn't let out a scream. I was hoping someone would come out of their room to save me but like I said it was the middle of the night and nobody was around. He took me to this room where there was no furniture. I looked in and there was this woman sitting on the ground in the shadows. I could tell she was overweight. The guy shoved me in and told the lady, my shift is over I'm going to sleep. The dark figure nodded.

Again, I was still in complete shock. My legs felt like 300 pound weights. The woman grabbed me and said, I'm getting married soon, so this is the last amount of fun I'm going to have. Don't forget, I was a minor at this time. My vision was fading in and out, I thought it was going to collapse, but suddenly the buffet was coming up in my stomach and I threw up on her. After that I left the room and sprinted all the way to my grandparents room. I got in there, double bolted the locks, my grandparents woke up and said, was everything okay? And I was thinking, let me

spill my guts over what just happened. However, I said the security guard found my friends playing basketball, so we all ran from him. They said okay and went back to sleep. Meanwhile, I just stayed in the bathroom all night, not because of the buffet, but I was terrified. The guy must have been stalking me and seen me go to my room with my grandparents over the few on board. So I was really freaked out thinking he knew my room. I stayed up all night, but there were no problems. My family created a plan to go to brunch in the dining hall, so we all got up at 8 and went there. The waiter was taking us to our seats. I was scanning

the area when I noticed the same man who chased me yesterday with an overweight woman and a couple of other goons. They saw me too so they all started staring at me. My whole family went to be seated but I was in the middle of a staring contest. Luckily my mom saw me and saw what was going on. My mom looked at me and then looked at the table and said, the guy with all the tattoos proposed to the girl a few nights back. I said out loud, oh my god. My mom hit me again and said, hey watch your mouth and go sit down. I ended up sitting down so my back was to the table of creeps. I never said a word about what happened that night and I don't plan on telling my family because I'm worried they

won't take me to cruises in the future. However, I was texting my new friends from the basketball courts and told them what happened that night. One of them said, I was chased by the same man. However, I was able to outrun him before he caught me. I was a bit relieved I got that off my chest and wasn't alone in my situation. I still didn't decide to tell anyone else. I really don't understand how these people got my phone number. I was in a relationship with whom at the time I thought was the perfect man for me. We traveled all the time and discovered a lot of incredible places together. We were madly in love. People could see it.

Strangers stopped us on the street to comment on what a radiant couple we were. Just after our third anniversary together, he decided he was sick of living in the suburbs and would be moving downtown, closer to his business. He asked for my input, so we went to look at apartments one day. We walked into a dream place. After seeing some really terrible ones, he got down on one knee and said, I knew you would love it. It's ours already. Would you marry me? Of course I said yes. I was bursting with happiness. We moved in straight away, the most blissful six months of my life. We planned an awesome wedding. It was a dream. I had just been laid off of my job so I had plenty of time to be a homemaker and he appreciated it. He thanked me every morning for his breakfast and

clean clothes. He fantasized about our future children and all the great things we'd do together. Then one night he came home from work, a different person. He refused to even touch me or look me in the eye. Out of nowhere he said, this is not what I want for myself. Give me the ring back and leave please. It made no sense but he wouldn't talk to me. He let me grab a coat, handbag and money from my drawer and told me a cab would be ready downstairs. He literally pushed me out the door as I cried and begged for an explanation. I had nowhere to go, but he didn't care. I ended up in my mother's house screaming hysterically. My whole world had collapsed.

He refused all my calls. All my possessions were in that apartment and he didn't care. I had to borrow clothes from my sister, take hand-me-downs from friends. Never recovered any of it. The wedding cancellation fell on me too. It didn't take long to find out that he had been seeing someone else since she became pregnant. They married three weeks after he kicked me out. I fell into a deep depression and lost the will to live. I was skeletally thin and my mother made me go inpatient and work on moving on. It took about six months before I actually started leaving the house and interacting with people again. Then it happened.

He started incessantly calling and texting me. Non-stop. Sixty texts per day. Can we talk? Can we meet? I just need to see you. I miss you so much. I knew I didn't have the mental strength to face him so I just ignored it. A barrage of emails followed. He made a mistake and wanted to get back together, pick up where we left. What? He was married with a baby on the way. He didn't just get

drunk and kiss a stranger. That was his the way. He didn't just get drunk and kiss a stranger. That was his whole attitude. I didn't reply. He started sending pricey gifts to my mother's house. I asked her to decline them all. Say she didn't know where I was. His emails became deranged rants. This woman had scammed him, forced him, threatened him.

He never meant to cheat on me, let alone leave me. He didn't even know how he had ended up marrying her. He actually hated her. I honestly wondered if he was hooked on hard drugs or something. Then my friends started complaining. My ex, his employees, his brother and or cousin had started contacting them to try and set up a surprise meeting with me to fix things. It was unnerving. His friends turned up at my sister's workplace.

His cousin followed my mother in a mall. My best friend was being followed constantly. He somehow found out where I was receiving therapy and turned up a few times, demanding information on my treatment and appointments. Police had to be called. I started to fear for my safety and became extremely paranoid. He left me a voicemail detailing how his wife was in labor, but as soon as she was done, he was filing for divorce. Could we please meet that night? He appealed to a lot of our happy memories and then with no remorse said, The kid can have my name but I want nothing to do with him ever.

I just want you and our days road tripping. I miss everything about you, all the time. It felt so callous and manipulative. I replied in a text, Stop looking for me. Stop calling. Just stop. Now go tend to your wife and love your firstborn. This somehow made things worse. Almost everywhere I went, a black van would be waiting for me. I recognized his employee. He looked sadly at me and gestured,

I'm sorry. His instructions were to follow me until he found my new boyfriend and to convince me to go back. His wife and baby had been kicked out of the apartment and he was waiting for me. He wouldn't give up on us. This man was everywhere I went. My mental health declined rapidly. Finally I decided to get away on a long vacation and save my sanity. I shut down all my social media and took a cab to the airport at midnight. Not six hours after landing in Vancouver, I had a string of emails from him demanding to know where I was. He also flew to Vancouver and would not quit until we met and got back together. I couldn't believe it.

Hoping he wouldn't figure out the rest of my itinerary, I told him I was willing to meet up at Stanley Park and arrange a time, which was the time my next flight left for New Zealand. Things turned for me since then and I ended up moving here. I'd be lying if I said I didn't do it to get away from him, that insanity he was putting me through. It's been ten years and only recently did he tone it down. He stalked me on Twitter for a while, tracked my government job email, came to Auckland twice in hopes of bumping into me,

and occasionally still sends me messages regretting the fact that we won't be together forever, that my daughter is not his child, and assuring me I'll always be the love of his life. So I should first say that I've always been sensitive to these kinds of things, so it's something that is hard to explain without sounding absolutely crazy. I pick up on things sometimes, it's only ever a feeling or physical response to a place or person. There's a long history of abuse over many

generations in my family's home and it caused a lot of really horrible experiences, both paranormal and non-paranormal. It was a very old-fashioned family that held horrid ideals of how women are treated. I think part of my past and maybe the environment has allowed me to pick up on subtle changes in the air. What I mean is that I pick up on the emotional state around me very easy. I could tell when my father came home because of how heavy and oppressive the house felt. I could tell when I needed to hide or stay outside most of the time because it would feel like the air was full of hot electric pins that would put you on edge. You could tell when he was mad before you saw or heard him, it was like you were waiting

for something to fall and shatter at any second and nothing good will come of it. There was a lot of death not just in the home but the entire town so there was no getting away from it until I was much older. I grew up in an old mining town that didn't become a ghost town after the gold rush I'm not going to give away too much but the big mine is still in operation today but most all the others are closed now the part of the town I lived in was one of the original buildings from when it was first built a lot of which is in native territories there are some homes in my old neighborhood that were confirmed to be

built on old burial grounds and some that were built before there was a town. There was also a lot of death from TB along with all the other stuff. My family is also part of some of the first miners that worked there during its opening and who still live in this town. We've had five generations in this home until just recently when it was put on the market by my parents and hopefully is never bought. I hope the place burns to the ground before anyone else lives there and I'm horrified at the thought of someone else staying there. If I had money I would buy it and keep it empty forever. It's hard to start somewhere with so much going on so I'll start with the very first memory

I have of anything paranormal when I was four years old. I woke up to the woman in my room singing to me like she did every night. She would sing to me in this beautiful language that I had never heard before. Except this was in the morning and it seemed sad and like something was wrong. For some reason I had this feeling like I had to follow her, and I did. Side note, all the rooms connect to the open living room and kitchen as it was heated by the stove and cooled by the root cellar that was connected to the kitchen pantry. It was like a giant rectangle separated with the central point being the kitchen, directly in the center left of the building and the front

door being bottom left. So when we reached the kitchen living room she waved and smiled like she was about to leave. The thing is I thought she was real as any normal person. The thing is I don't remember her actually saying anything to me in English or Spanish and I was in a multi-language home where we spoke it often. I just remember that she loved me so much and was always there for me when bad things happened. She was always there to sing to me and was there when I was scared. I was so upset that I started crying and asking her not to leave. I remember to this day the look on her face after 30 years. She smiled her sad smile then turned to the door and instead of walking out the door she walked out the wall where the door used

to be before the additional rooms were added on which I didn't know about until I was in my 20s. I never saw her again and I never heard her singing again after that. I still get really sad sometimes thinking about that morning. I don't know where she went but I hope I get to see her again someday. My mother found me after this while I was still crying. I knew it would be bad to tell her the truth so I never told her about what happened and probably never will. After that day is when all the really bad things started to happen little by little. It was like a small hole had appeared in our home and slowly things were leaking through. My uncle became so very sick shortly after this and died in one of the rooms

I slept in. We switched rooms every few years. I was still young but I remember him very clearly when he died. It was a very traumatic death and was not peaceful. I don't remember everything from that time but I remember him coughing up blood and trying to pretend like everything was fine. I just remember that I woke up one morning and grandma had told us that he had passed in the night and was already with the morticians. After this point he was seen a lot by my family and visitors grandma was heard on more than one occasion crying and telling him to move on and that he was supposed to be in heaven i remember telling him mijo you'll make the angels cry if you don't move on on a regular basis

maybe a few months after he passed i moved into his room. We were very very poor and I had no choice but to take the bed he passed in or sleep on the floor and that's very bad because of the cold. So the first night I was in there after moving back I remember not being able to sleep because of the shadow in the room that wouldn't allow me to sleep. It wasn't supposed to be there and was something new and I was really scared. It was my uncle. I at some point finally fell asleep and was awoken by me being dropped onto my bed from at least a foot or more. It was enough of a height that I bounced more than once.

I opened my eyes and saw this black stuff around me. It wasn't like smoke exactly but moved like it. But it was just black like the absence of light. I remember jumping from the bed too scared to do anything but watched it disappear into the center of the mattress. I went and slept with my brother in his cot and then on the floor in his room when he became too big. I never slept in that room again after that. From then on I could always feel this evil darkness watching me every time I would walk past the room. I could never look into the doorway anymore. It's like when someone is so oppressive you can't help but look at the floor and don't dare look them in the eyes. It sometimes felt like it would dare you to look. Sometimes it threw

things and it would rush you and scream things. There were many nights where dishes were thrown from the kitchen and into a room, sometimes mine and sometimes the other kids' rooms. Only grandma's room and the bathroom had doors, so it soon became a rule that nothing could be left on the countertops and all cupboards were locked with front door latches, the ones that would hook and latch closed and could not be opened without a bit of effort. The fridge was also locked for the same reason. We would wake up to milk or other things being thrown into the living rooms and in bedrooms. It got so bad that grandma had the priest come

over every weekend up until she was too old and sick and was taken to a nursing facility. When he stopped coming and grandma passed it was like a burst and everything just went crazy. I'm not religious at all but I feel that priest was stopping something bad that now had full control again. There was far more than things being broken, vases and cuffs mostly. When he stopped coming, it seemed like there was more traffic and it was surrounding the cellar and kitchen pantry. It's getting long and there's still so much I've not even touched on. I will post more later and try to tell one or two more stories at a time. I'll answer as many questions as I can and thanks for listening. It's hard talking about because none of it seems real. There was a lot that happened and some of it I don't think I'll

ever be able to talk about because there are just some things you can't put into words. Everything sounds fake even to me but had there not been so many witnesses in my family I would not believe it was real and I would in fact think that I was the crazy one. I've had several experiences all around the same location, within months of each other. The first one happened when I had just adopted my puppy. He was 11 weeks old and loved everyone. He would run up to anyone and everyone tail wagging, the friendliest thing. One day, we were out on a walk in a large, open cow field behind where I lived at the time.

It was dusk and there wasn't really anyone else around except this hiker in the distance walking toward us. My dog saw him and stopped in his tracks, got down low to the ground and just started growling. The hiker was still too far off away from me to even make out his face but my puppy was freaking out. As he got closer I started to become seriously unnerved. He was pacing towards us like a robot, that's the only way I can describe it, or like the way military people walk. He was pale white and had these dead eyes that seemed to not see us at all. There was no acknowledgement of us whatsoever, He just robo-sped walked straight in our direction. The dog was going crazy, growling, whining. I'd never heard him make

those sounds before. When the hiker walked past me, I just felt this sense of dread hit me in the gut. It felt like pure evil. It was the single most terrifying encounter I've ever had. As he passed us, his eyes didn't move. It was as if he didn't even see us, even though the dog was growling directly at him. He was just power walking past us and continued on. It was strange too, the direction he was going in, because all there was that way was a giant hill and it was getting dark. As soon as he passed us me and the dog just broke into a run as if we were both running for our lives. We ran all the way home. The next experience happened in the same field. Again I was walking the dog a couple

of months after the first encounter. Again just reiterating the point that he is the friendliest dog ever. Especially as a pup, all he wanted was to run up to every stranger for pets. We were in this field and there's a load of hikers with backpacks on checking their maps. Puppy is checking them out, tail wagging when he zeroes in on this one hiker lady who's standing still, just observing a tree. He dropped to the ground, started growling and whining, just like the last time. He didn't acknowledge us. She just stared at this tree with her dead eyes, and she was pale again, super pale, and when I caught a glimpse of her face properly, I felt that same sense of dread as the last time. She looked fairly normal except she

had almost no nose. I know this sounds insane. She had almost slits. Like someone who's done too much cocaine and had their nose fall off or like Voldemort. I don't think the dog could have been growling at her appearance though because her back was turned to us when the growling started. The third one freaked me out the most. A friend and I were just leaving my house to walk the dog when we realized we'd forgotten something inside. Where I live there's no car access and it's considered the safest area ever so the dog is usually free to roam around outside saying hello to people on the path. We left him outside for a second while we went back in and when I came out,

there was a man in a business suit standing completely still, staring at my dog. My dog was staring back at him, not growling this time, just very still. It was so weird. He wasn't looking at the dog like he was afraid of it, more like he'd never seen one before. It was a curious look. He was genuinely intrigued by him. Also, the fact that he was wearing a suit was strange because I lived on a boat on the river. It's muddy and there's cows and dogs and stuff. It was just such a strange outfit to see someone in that in that location almost as if someone was trying to play human and got it wrong anyway so this stare off went on for a good minute or so while my friend and i just kind of observed from the doorway then he walked on past a gate and into the field where the other two encounters occurred. We followed behind him because we happened to be going in the same direction. We followed him through the gate into the field and

watched him veer off to follow a path to our left towards the hill that the first hiker was marching towards. We continued on straight with the dog heading for the pub on the other side of the field. Can you tell I'm from England? When I realized I'd forgotten my purse, I turned around to go back, but now the suit guy was back at the gate we'd all just come from. He was just standing there, staring at the gate, occasionally lifting the latch on it, as if he was inspecting it. It was super weird and creepy. What was he doing? He was just walking away and then turned around and came back to what I guess check the gate mechanism was working properly. I decided not to go back from my purse because I didn't want to have to walk past him again. Now the fourth experience

happened in the same field another couple of months after that. On a dog walk again my boyfriend was with me but he told me to go ahead into the field while he finished getting ready and that he'd meet me there. So pup and I walked out into the field and immediately spotted a hiker, robo-power walking towards us as if he'd just come down from the hill. It wasn't the same guy as before, but it was the same kind of unsettling energy. I felt it in my gut. It was wrongness or unease and he was walking the exact same way. I pretended to chase my dog in the opposite direction and waited for him to pass through the gate before I got back onto the path. I watched him walk through it and disappear past the gate and down the path. Puppy and I carried on walking when about two minutes later I felt like I needed to turn around, so I did.

And there he was again, power walking towards us with those dead eyes. I literally felt my blood run cold. I've never been so terrified. He was going so fast and with such intensity that the dog and I just started running. I fumbled for my phone and tried to call my boyfriend who didn't answer and veered off the path, cut through the long grass and circled back to the gate in a giant arc. Creepy alien dude continues power walking up the path he'd just come down as if he's going back up the hill. Sweating and out of breath, I spotted my boyfriend finally walking to join us, and ran to him babbling about the weirdo hiker

with a bad energy. He says where, and as I turn to point him out, we both realize that he's now powerwalking backwards, with his eyes locked on us, still heading back up the hill backwards. What in the world? We were both seriously freaked out. These all happened in the summer. Come autumn I was living alone on the boat with the dog while boyfriend was away for work. One night around midnight the dog and I were walking home from a pub quiz. It's always super dark on these country paths and my phone had died so I had no light and was literally crashing into hedges and trees trying to feel my way home by moonlight. And the moon and stars were super super bright that night. So I get to my boat. I have to cross over the river on a bridge. As I'm walking over the bridge I was looking up at the

stars as they were the only source of light. I ended up observing what I thought was a plane because it was moving steadily in my direction over that hill and in that field where everything happened. As I'm watching it it seemed to suddenly look at me. I don't know how to describe that. It's as if it suddenly realized it was being observed. I felt us connect and it shot off to the left super fast and blinked out of existence. Obviously in my mind that's a UFO and it's hovering over the hill where the creepy alien type people keep appearing from. So now I was terrified. I ran all the way home crashing into bushes like a crazy person because I couldn't see, locked the door and hid under the covers like a kid. A month or so after that, pup woke me up at around 4am because he needed the

toilet. Half asleep I went to open the door for him and let him outside. I want to just paint a picture so you understand how weird this is. I live on a boat on the river. Where my boat was moored was the middle of the countryside. There's no lights on at night. Not much light pollution. No street lights. It's pitch dark apart from the light of the stars and moon. So when I stuck my head out of the boat to

call the dog back I found myself being blinded by a white light. I was confused. I looked up at the sky and couldn't even open my eyes fully because it was so bright. It was like this giant white mass really low in the sky. So low and bright that I couldn't see anything else if I looked up. The dog came running back in and I slammed the door shut, locked it and tried to go back to sleep. It was almost like a you didn't see anything moment. I didn't even think anything of it at the time. Looking back it makes almost zero sense why I would feel that way. I even went back to the spot recently to make sure there's no other light I missed like a new lamppost or something. There isn't. I don't know what these mean but I moved back onto land and away from that hill and field and

they stopped happening. I actually walked up to the top of that hill one morning to check it out and it's honestly just a pretty picnic spot. Definitely not an alien HQ. My aunt makes us go to the graveyard like four times a year to bring flowers to my grandparents, an aunt and her long lost boyfriend. Even if it's Mother's Day she will bring flowers to his grave. She said he was the love of her life. His name was Haram and he died during a gruesome car crash. He had already bought the wedding ring to ask my aunt to marry him. The thing is I learned not too long ago something I didn't know about Haram. He had been getting violent during the last months of their relationship, basically going full toxic on my aunt, prohibiting her to have any male friends, monitoring her outings and being choosy about her girlfriends. In fact once he raised his hand at

her and even threatened to hit her. My aunt was devastated and though she still loved him, she definitely didn't want to marry him knowing he was going to be like that from time to time. So she asked, please, please god, make him go away from me. Not too long after, Haram died during that car crash. I know my aunt blames herself for his death, feeling guilty enough to leave flowers at his grave every time we visit the graveyard. Up until that point, it seems like a twisted coincidence, right? Well, after Haram died, my aunt had other boyfriends, but she remained mainly single and immersed herself on us, her family. About three years ago she met

a past boyfriend of hers by pure coincidence. They hit it off again and they got together again despite him living in another state. They took planes and buses to each other and they made it work. However, that guy proved himself to also be terrible he was controlling told my aunt to not spend her money with us so much that she cut out vacations with us which we traditionally had yearly and she started giving terrible and cheap presents for christmas and birthdays and okay it's her money and she can use it however she wants, even in her boyfriend. So she bought him things and all and he got more and more confident in himself, thinking he had her wrapped around his finger. He got angry when she didn't pick up her phone. She had to let him know when she was going out

of the house, who with and the time she thought that she would be back. Not too long ago I was having a conversation with her and she was recently frustrated with her boyfriend and blurted out exactly this. Please God, please make him... gasp. Oh no, I shouldn't finish that. Last time he listened. But I guess her process of thought was already finished even if it didn't come out of her mouth. Her boyfriend hasn't called her in four days as I'm typing this. A full 180 from his constant calling and nagging. Nobody has heard a word from him. Harder to get a hold of him given he's in another state. She's getting worried because she's sure he has just broke up with her without even having a word and I couldn't help but think wouldn't it be creepy if he had you know died. His phone is dead he hasn't contacted my aunt through a public phone

or any other medium. Her birthday was like two days ago and he was as quiet as a rock. Now to update you guys I know everyone wanted some type of closure with this and so did i but unfortunately i have no idea what happened to him i skipped a lot of family drama because it wasn't really relevant but here it goes he was one of many brothers and his younger brother is dating an aunt c of mine that's like 15 years younger than my aunt that this post is about so my mom asked my aunt see if she had heard anything about this idiot and she said no but she was going to ask the brother. She called back later to say that the brother told her that this guy hasn't shown up in several days and that

they were even considering on hiring a new guy to play the bass to replace him. And that's the last I heard of it. His own brother didn't know where he was and he didn't really care. Before you mention it, no. The brother's not terrible to my aunt C at first. In fact, he seemed to go after her money but he fell in love and they visit each other frequently. I also mentioned my aunt has a terrible personality. My mom and her fought and she blocked my mom and me by proxy from whatsapp so we also haven't heard from her. But she surely has been keeping in contact with someone else since nobody has called us to say she died or whatever. She has beef with most of my aunts and not everyone calls her very often, only a couple of people. I promise to update again only if I discover he is in fact dead.

I'm currently a 29 year old guy living on the west coast and only recently have I taken an interest in anything paranormal again. I used to be very into the topic of ghosts when I was a kid, however there was something that happened when I was 17 that scared me so badly I steadfastly avoided anything paranormal, until now. It's been 12 years since that day and only now after over a decade of no ghost sightings at all do I feel like I can finally talk about it. When I was 17 I worked for a small business in a very small town of only a few thousand people in the midwestern US. The business was on the town square on the second floor of a two-story brick building that was constructed close to a hundred years ago. The bottom floor was a furniture store and the only way to gain access to the second floor was past a dead bolted glass door with a thick steel frame

and up a long straight flight of stairs. I taught self-defense classes part-time which isn't a bad gig when you're a teenager. The head instructor lived over an hour away, so it was up to me to teach one night a week, and occasionally open the place up for the night before anyone arrived for class. Additionally, I was also required to clean the building at least once a week on our off days, which wasn't difficult as I usually only had to run the vacuum and clean the windows and mirrors. Opening the front door required turning the key in a very very old deadbolt lock which

would occasionally stick and would only open with a very loud clicking sound. One day I stopped by work on an off day on the weekend with my girlfriend so we could clean the place. Just so no one saw my car parked outside and assumed there was a self-defense class being held that night, I locked the door from the inside by turning the deadbolt and loudly clicking it into place before walking up the long flight of steps. Working together, we vacuumed the floors and made quick work of the place. Because we were two hormonally crazed teenagers that rarely had any quiet alone time of course we took a moment to get busy on

the floor of the front office while we were there. Unprofessional I know but it's not like there was anyone there. The town square was deserted outside since it was the weekend and all the businesses were closed. Besides I had made sure the front door was locked and the only person with a key to that particular lock was my boss who wasn't even in the same town. Afterwards, I walked to the bathroom which was located in the back of the building. On my way back to the front of the building while I was walking directly in front of the stairs, I heard something. I heard a man's slow, heavy footsteps coming up the long flight of stairs at the front of the building. My first instinct was to turn and run

since I was stark raving naked at the time and clearly wasn't expecting visitors. However, the second thought I had was that this was impossible. I had locked the front door myself. It was an old deadbolt lock that barely worked and besides I would have heard a loud resounding click if someone had unlocked the door. Against my better judgment, my burning curiosity had me taking a step forward. I had to see what was making the sound. I just had to. If nothing else, simply looking down the empty flight of stairs and seeing nothing else would help me understand that I merely imagined the noise and that of course there

was nothing there to make it. However, as I thought all of this, the footsteps continued and continued to get louder as I walked closer to the noise. Then, I saw it. It was a humanoid shadow. A solid, substantial shadow was climbing the stairs. This wasn't a shadow in the sense that something was blocking a light source and casting a flat shadow on a flat surface. It was more of a person. Imagine a shapeless, formless human cloaked in blackness. It had no hair, no facial features, no distinguishing characteristics of any kind, but was tall and broad-shouldered. Also, it was walking directly towards me. Its head appeared first, followed by its shoulders and its torso. Then, it was as if it looked up, and was surprised to see me. I looked at it exactly where its eyes should have been and it looked back for less than a fraction of a second before it jerked backwards as if startled and it simply vanished.

As if it had never existed to begin with. I blinked several times and walked over to the top of the stairs and looked down the stairs, expecting to see someone, somehow playing a trick on me, but there was no one there. Nothing. Just as I had initially expected to see before seeing the shadow, it was just an empty staircase, just as I thought it would be. After all, I had locked the front doors myself, right? Immediately afterwards, I walked back to my girlfriend and we quickly got dressed and left I didn't mention what I just saw to her both because

I didn't want to scare her and because I didn't think she would believe me I wrote off the entire incident as something I imagined a bizarre hallucination it couldn't possibly have happened there was no one around outside the building since all the nearby businesses were closed and no one else had the key. At first I thought that perhaps the shadow was simply of someone passing by on the sidewalk downstairs but the light from the front door only reached to the bottom step of the stairs and it wouldn't explain how the shadow was somehow getting closer to me as well as somehow climbing the stairs. I never saw the shadow again after that but it didn't end there. Afterwards I felt as though someone was watching me every single time I walked

into that building. I would have to unlock the place before each class and I would have to walk up the long stairway in the pitch darkness, the very same staircase I saw the shadow on. I occasionally heard footsteps after that and felt as if though I was being followed. It was almost as if the someone was there, someone unseen who really, really didn't like me. It was as if I was somewhere I wasn't welcome and someone wanted me to leave. Eventually the feeling got so bad I didn't want to be alone there anymore. I brought my girlfriend with me a second time and she later complained that she felt like someone was watching her. However, during the day it just felt like a normal building. The oppressive, creepy feelings started around sunset and only got worse at night.

Much, much worse. Around the time I graduated from high school my boss decided the business was no longer profitable and chose to close the building down. While it royally sucked to lose my only paying job I was very glad to never have to set foot in that place ever again. About a year later I was in a new relationship and I told my new girlfriend the story of all that I saw on my old job. She was curious so one night I drove by and parked the car directly in front of the door. It had been quite some time since I was last there so surely it was safe by now. I immediately felt like I was being watched.

Whatever it was, it had never left. It was like someone was standing at the top of the stairs and was glaring downwards with such unbelievable hatred and malice, it was unbearable. My girlfriend immediately noticed it as well. She freaked out and demanded that I slam my foot on the gas pedal to get us out of there immediately and of course I did. Even to this day over a decade later I still don't feel comfortable driving past that building after dark when I fly home to visit my parents. I don't know what I saw there but it's clearly rooted to that building and either cannot or will not leave. Do any of you have any ideas about what it could have been? Maybe understanding it a little more will help me feel like I didn't lose my mind

when I was a teenager. This happened to my brother and I years ago when we were kids. Our mom was the assistant director for the children's choir at our church and would sometimes pick up kids and take them home when they didn't have rides to practice. These siblings we used to take home lived in a neighborhood not far from ours so we took them home nearly after every practice. So this one night it was the same as usual. We all piled up into my mom's SUV and took them home after practice. It was dark out by that time so when we parked out in front of their house my mom would always get out to walk them to the door. My brother and I as always stayed in the car. I was in the passenger seat and he was in the back. Then my brother said the strangest sentence.

There's a man with a dog's head looking out the window. What? I said and then turned to look at him. I thought he was joking. He was looking at the house across the street so I followed his line of sight. There was indeed a man with a dog's head looking out of the second story window. I don't even remember saying anything, we just stared. It was a completely still and tall figure wearing dark clothes with the head of a white dog. I remember constantly leaning and squinting in its direction because I wanted to get a clearer look at it. Something about the image was foggy. I knew what I was looking at and I knew what I saw but at the same time it was as if the being was non-corporeal I suppose. I don't know I just felt like if I looked away or even just glanced in a different direction it would be gone. So I just kept my eyes on it.

I wasn't scared though, just curious and amazed by what I was looking at. It felt like we were staring forever. Then my mom came back in the car and broke the spell. Immediately we were rushing to tell her to look at the window. She seemed confused and slightly amused by what she was thinking were antics but she looked anyways. Where? She asked. We kept pointing at the window but she couldn't see it. Don't y'all know whose house that is? She said. It's an old couple from the church, they live there. Then she drove off past the house. We watched the window the whole time as we drove past. The dog-headed person was still there, seemingly watching us, but still not moving. We tried to tell our dad and our grandma and still bothered our mom about

it for a while. They listened but didn't seem too concerned. I knew they thought we were making it up or mistaking something else for what we saw so we just stopped mentioning it. We hardly even talked about it with each other. Still each time we went to drop the kids off I looked at that window to see if it was still there. It never was. I'm 22 now and the memory is quite fuzzy. I don't remember the year, the month or even how old I was.

Trying to remember details is like trying to remember a dream. We started the children's choir when I was 8 so I know I was at least 8 to 10 years old. I saw a YouTube video on Urban Legends recently that mentioned sightings of a dog headed people and it sparked my need to know about what it was I really saw. So I'm posting this to reach out. If anyone reading this has seen anything similar to what my brother and I saw that night. Please let me know. This story starts many years ago when I was a little girl living in an apartment with my dad and older brother. I used to hate to go to bed early and often snuck out of bed to just run

around the living room in the middle of the night. I always left the lights off and was able to see because there was enough light shining through the glass door from the balcony. On one such night I slipped out of bed and made sure my brother was still asleep as we shared a bunk bed and walked quietly as possible to the living room. I left the bedroom door open every time in case I needed to run back to bed. As I played around the living room, jumping on the couches and the like, I noticed a black shadow from the balcony. I immediately stopped and looked outside and just saw this silhouette-like black figure just standing by the edge of the door near the handle. I freaked out and immediately ran back to bed and closed the door.

This woke my brother up and he got worried and asked what was wrong. I told him what I'd seen and he'd said he'd go look himself to make sure everything was alright. He opened the door and I watched him walk out. A minute later he came back in and said he didn't see anything so it must be okay now. I accepted the answer and went back to bed. Later I realized that my brother had still left the door open. I crawled out of bed to close it myself and before I could touch the door it slammed shut loudly. This caught my brother's attention and when I explained what happened he was confused. I was so terrified that I asked to sleep with him and he let me. A minute later though our dad came into the room and asked what the noise was. I explained to him what I'd seen and he didn't really believe me as

he doesn't believe at all in the paranormal. He figured one of us had slammed the door. My brother tried to say it was a draft to just get him to go back to bed but my dad didn't think so since he'd left the windows and balcony locked and air off. So my dad goes about trying to question us to see who slammed the door. And the middle of me trying to explain that I was really only trying to close the door but never touched. And we heard a loud noise coming from the living room. It sounded like another door slamming shut. My dad automatically leaves towards the living room and turns on the light.

My brother and I followed and saw our dad looking around. We only have two doors in the living room, the front door and the balcony door. My dad checks the front door first and finds it locked. Then he goes to the balcony door and finds it unlocked and slightly ajar. See, when that door gets slammed, it's loose enough that it actually slides back a bit. My dad closed and locked the door and sent my brother and I back to bed and that was the end of that. For a few more years we lived in that apartment and every now and then I'd see that black figure and hear a door slam and sometimes the pillows on the couches were on the floor.

My dad always thought of a logical answer and my brother and I just started to ignore it since he was. We moved out once my dad got remarried to my stepmom and lived in a two-story house. My brother and I figured, new house, new story. We ended up getting a dog and two cats. For a little while it was normal until my stepmom asked me one morning if I had folded the dog's blanket. I said no and told her I hadn't even touched it. She accepted my answer and then asked my brother. He said no as well and asked what this was about. She replied that she had found the blanket perfectly folded and on top of the washer machine. This was incredibly odd as the dog slept in her bed on the floor and hated her blanket being taken away.

We only ever touched it to wash it and it had just recently been cleaned. Well our stepmom was very quick to believe it was the work of a ghost. She explained to me that she had seen ghosts before when she was younger. My dad however remained adamant that ghosts just weren't real and said one of us had probably folded it and forgot about it. We moved on with our day but that was only the beginning. I started to see the same black figure again and it was always by an open door right next to the handle. I started getting really scared because I had started sleeping with my door open so the cats could get in whenever they wanted. I tried to ignore it and just sleep but whenever I hear my door creak I was terrified to look and always

waited until I felt my cats on my bed before I'd look. One night I was staying up late to do homework and I heard my door creak so so I turned right away, not really thinking and just wanting to see my cat for a break. Instead, I saw that black figure and my heart stopped. I was just frozen. After what couldn't have been more than ten seconds, the door just slammed shut and I screamed. My stepmom and dad came running in to see what was wrong and I frantically told them what I'd seen. My dad just thought I was tired and seeing things but my stepmom listened and told me to just wait and she'd be right back. When she came back it was with her rosary and she hung it on my door handle telling me it'd keep what I'd saw away

and that if I saw it again to go straight to her. It was after this incident when I started having things happen at my mother's house. Every day like clockwork you'd start hearing this creaking sound coming from the ceiling after 6 p.m. till 3 a.m. My mother and her husband brushed it off as the house settling or the pipes but my brother and I both agreed that it was just too weird for it to be in this time frame. After that I started getting woken up by my Rottweiler growling at my wall by my bed. I didn't think anything of it at first because he tended to bark and growl out of windows a lot but when I realized that he was actually growling at my wall I got nervous. I'd slowly crawl out of bed and go to hug my dog. He'd pause his growling to sniff me and look me over once he was satisfied he'd go back to growling at the wall. After a few

minutes he'd stop and then sniff me again before sitting down. I'd get back in bed and he'd put his head by my pillow until I fell asleep. When my mother's second dog, a Weimaraner, got old enough she'd come into my room at night as well and start growling at the wall too. She was the kind of dog who'd make noises and kind of talk to you but she never growled or barked. I did the same thing and got out of bed until they stopped growling but it started affecting my sleep. I eventually told my stepmom what was going on after a picture frame above my bed flew onto the floor and crashed. She told me that there was a spirit or ghost that was following me and that I needed to be careful since she believed it was only getting more active. Hearing those words

scared me. I managed to push on and try to ignore the doors closing randomly and my dogs growling. Even my cats started getting weird around the house sometimes but I just kept thinking that if I ignored it, it'd go away. But I was wrong. My dad eventually moved houses again and this time we were living in a brand new home. So new that my dad had bought it while it was still being built. I explained my worries to my stepmom about the thing following me here and she told me to just let her know the moment I saw it again. After a few weeks everything was fine until I started hearing voices. The kind that sounds like someone is having a conversation but it's muffled like they're a few rooms away.

I'd stop whatever I was doing to go check it out but whenever I did it'd stop. It got to the point where I'd be completely alone in the house and I'd hear what sounded like my dad talking to someone. I'd call out for him, confused, only to look out a window and see that his car was still gone. After that I started to hear footsteps like someone was walking around in my parents room upstairs. The weirdest thing about it though was it always sounded exactly like my dad's footsteps. Everyone had a specific way of walking and his were always more thudded and loud. I brought it up to my stepmom and she told me she heard it too. She then explained to me it was coming from her closet and that sometimes she'd walk in to find boxes from the top shelf right in the middle of the floor. Keep in mind this is one of those big walk-in closets so anything that falls wouldn't naturally end up in the center of the floor.

I still live with my dad and stepmom to this day while going to college and I hear all of this stuff. I don't see the figure as much anymore and the doors don't slam as often but they do still shut. It's just quieter. The thing that made my friends believe I had something following me was because I'd spend the night at their house and anything I usually experienced started happening whenever I came over. One friend of mine who was terrified of anything paranormal actually refused to sleep at my house and doesn't like me spending the night at hers because she had seen the black figure. It's sort of become a bit of a joke now with them.

They'll tease me and say that if you invite me over you better be prepared for two guests instead of one or to make sure all the doors are shut before sleeping. Some friends are incredibly curious and often like to come over or invite me over just so that they can try and see the figure. I honestly don't know what to do about it and don't know if I should do anything. I mean, it's never been hostile towards anything, but it's still unsettling to see it sometimes and have it break some stuff. Nowadays I sleep with my door closed and locked, but sometimes I'll wake up to see it open. I'm sorry for the long story but I really don't

know what to do and if anyone has any ideas I'd be happy to hear them. In my late teens I had this friend, let's call him Felix. Unlike my social anxiety ridden self, he was a social butterfly and appeared to know everyone. As such, I ended up knowing a lot of people by proxy and hanging out with some interesting folk. The one I'm going to talk about below is named Carly. I'm not 100% convinced but she might be an actual witch. I was at Felix's place one night with a few people and we were all playing a game of Risk. We had smoked a bit and got to talking about weird topics compounded by the fact that we were weird teens.

You know, the usual. My buddy had crazy stories about getting stuck in a radio tower. Another friend had stories about getting locked in a basement all night. I had my ghost stories and it was one of the few times people believed me so that was nice. Carly had the one we all called nonsense on the most. Carly was your typical edgy goth girl, complete with clothes that would put a stripper to shame, and enough makeup that it had a noticeable thickness. She was hot, I'd admit that, but we were distant friends and I had hung out with her a few times with Felix. She seemed nice enough, if a bit emotionally reserved. Well this night, she up and states that she's an energy vampire. I had no idea what that was, as I didn't really have access to a

lot of internet in rural Newfoundland. She goes on to say that she gets energy from people's emotions, she can feel people's auras, she can detect when people have issues, and she has to keep her emotions in check because she can get powerful. Me and Felix call nonsense as we had never seen her be powerful and those kind of claims reek of fakeness coming from the edgy goth kid. She goes on and does a reading where she is able to tell me about my emotions. I remember she rightly said I was depressed but that isn't much of a shocker to anyone who met teen me and told Felix he had a grave injury impending. His mom did have a stroke like a year later but for what little that might be worth she also said some other vague things to the rest of the people we

were hanging out with which were probably correct I can't confirm. Finally, after this had gone on for about an hour or so, I called her Bluff. I asked where did she get this mystical power? I remember asking if her dad was a warlock and her mom a pixie. She says she was taught by Mother Hilda. That was the most nonsense name I'd ever did hear and I said, where does she live? Up your butt? Becoming visibly distressed she said to me and Felix who was laughing she could bring me to her next weekend. Thinking she would bring me to one of her weird goth friends who would try some edgy stuff and always down for a laugh I of course said yes. Felix was down as well, so it was settled. Now it's important to know that I have an issue with being a passenger in cars. I fall asleep almost immediately when

not driving. A holdover from long car trips with the family. I mean, I sleep immediately. If I can make it five minutes, it's a miracle. It's really important to remember this because I sure wish it wasn't the case. So when the weekend comes me, Felix and Carly all get together to go meet this person. I had assumed it would be some person we would meet in the basement of their parents house but Carly says that mother Hilda lives on the Bonavista peninsula. That's a good three hour drive in good weather from where I lived and I was frankly more angry that she didn't bring snacks. So we all got in her car. She'd gotten her license already since she was six months older than us and we set off. In my true fashion I fell asleep within minutes

and I don't think we even hit the highway before I was out. When I had woken up we were driving on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. For those of you who haven't been to Newfoundland, I think my wife put the Bonavista Peninsula best. It's like you're walking on the graves of a million really angry ghosts. Gloomy skies, gloomy landscapes, and a real feeling that something is watching you from the tree line where you can't see them. I frankly hate the place. Most people I know from it are great but everyone I know who lives on it is miserable. So I come to and we are driving down this poor excuse for a road and what could be more aptly named a goat path? So I immediately start complaining. Where are we? Why are we here? What are you planning?

You know, reasonable questions. To all of the questions she answered, Mother Hilda will answer. Like a psychopath. Felix doesn't say a word and just looks mildly amused. So after what felt like forever, we come to some kind of clearing. It is really just a place where the trees aren't that big. In the middle sat an old school Newfoundland box house in absolute horrible condition. Like no one had shown this house a lick of love in a hundred years run down. It still had windows given, but the roof looked

like it was attempting to threaten the ground with its lean. I remember the place was blue and the goat path didn't reach all the way up to it. It stopped about a hundred feet shy because of course it did. Harley stops the car, gets out and like a psychopath says again, Mother Hilda will answer. I look to Felix who has the biggest grin on his face. He's high as a kite. I berate him as this is starting to get horrifying and his only real response getting out of the car is you're a better man than me for doing this sober. So I get out of the car with Felix who insists I

go first. My only thought is I'm gonna get murdered. Carly walks through the trees with her arms outstretched in a T pose, spinning and singing, Mother Hilda knows all. Felix looks at me and says, we are going to get murdered, aren't we? Carly reaches this door, opens it up and motions for us to come in. Now I saw two options, either go in with the witchy woman or brave the untamed wilderness of rural Newfoundland and God knows where. I decide the latter as that's the only one that has a chance that I die and no one finds the body. I reach the door and the place is pitch black inside. It was a general overcast day outside and the windows must have been covered in paper or something. Not freaking furnished, no lighting, just rotting

boards and the smell of my impending doom. I can hear Carly laughing upstairs because of course there's an upstairs so I think, yep I die here. This is the weird house for weird rituals. I can tell Felix is thinking the same thing, but insists I go first. Thankfully, the stairs were next to the front door, so I didn't have to risk walking through that creepy place. When I look up the stairs, I nearly peed myself. At the top is a girl, completely naked, and pointing down the upstairs hallway. She has makeup like Carly, thick and dark, and is staring at us with intent, possibly murderous eyes. I turn to look back at Felix when the girl at the top of the stairs

belts out in a voice louder than I'd pegged her to have. Mother Hilda doesn't wait. So petrified, I walk up those stairs. The place was eerily silent. I hadn't really noticed it before, but there was no sound of the wind in the trees, no birds chirping, no rustling, and no floorboard creaking. I started to really get those vibes on strong but Felix flashed me a hunting knife he brought along and whispered, I got you, we'll even hear a lie. Feeling 0.1% better I reached the top of the stairs. The girl who was maybe 14 ran into a room on the upper floor and I saw Carly at the end of the hall next to a door what I assumed to be a closet. She had the biggest grin on her face, like a proud child about to show their mom a Play-Doh figure they had worked on all day. I walked closer and with all the manly gusto I had in me,

made it five steps in the hallway. I had the feeling I was going to puke and every fiber in my being was telling me whatever was behind that door was danger, pure danger. Carly looked at me and said, Mother Hilda will see you, and opened that door. What was inside was what I believed to be a small child. Its back turned to me and eating something in the closet. I remember seeing chicken bones at its feet, which were huge by the way. It was wearing a ratty red shawl and was completely naked below the waist.

And that's when I noticed it was an old person. It had that typical saggy old person butt, the one that lacks all tone and definition. I watched this thing turn around and it was the scariest sight of my life. It was some kind of old woman but I question that frequently given its appearance. It had tiny tiny arms like an infant on a toddler's body that was holding her shawl up. It had wispy angelic strands barely holding onto its head and a noticeable hump on its back. I assume I noticed this because its face didn't make sense. Its teeth, just one big mouth with hundreds of misshapen teeth. The entire face looked like it had been scooped out and just given

teeth, rows upon rows of teeth. I saw no eyes, no nose, no forehead, just long, creepy teeth. It snarled and yelled, no men, and I passed out. When I woke up, I was back in Felix's house, him already up and staring at the floor with a thousand yard stare. I asked him if I had some kind of weird dream and without missing a beat he says, Mother Hilda is a real man. I thought it was a creepy fake thing but I saw it too. We talked for about 30 minutes about what happened and we had basically the same recollection of events except Felix saw her move a step or two before he blacked out. I said I should go home. He said I should leave. We both went our separate ways.

Over the next few days, I tried to message Carly, back in the days of MSN Messenger, but the only response I ever got was, Mother Hilda never forgets. After three days of this, about ten messages a day, I said, forget Carly. I didn't need that in my life. Never hung out with her again, although I did see her from time to time in school, but she refused to look at me. I had only one more encounter with Mother Hilda, whatever she is, past that.

I had quite a big yard before the river and had a sizable fire pit where I would have fires. Having Felix as my only real friend, I had many a big yard before the river and had a sizable fire pit where I would have fires. Having Felix as my only real friend I had many bonfires alone. That was fine. I enjoyed the spectacle of it all. So one night I was having a fire and I started to get really into it. Flames went maybe 15 feet high and I was having a great time. I had whipped off my shirt, placed it on the 6 foot poking stick I had and began chanting in gibberish. I don't know why, but it was a conscious action. Teenagers are weird.

On the other side of the fire, through a line of trees, was a small path my neighbor had to go to the woods. I catch a glance out of the corner of my eye, something small in the trees. Thinking it could be a wildcat or maybe a baby bear, I stop to look at it. From the other side of the lines of the trees I see Mother Hilda. Her gaping maw wide open and facing in my direction. I go to scream as is a logical action but Mother Hilda yells no. And my raging inferno goes out. Not even an ember stayed lit, cold dead fire. I look back, no mother Hilda. I decide that is enough of that and I book it

into my house as fast as my legs can go. When I get inside my mom asks me why I'm not having the fire anymore. She rarely cared what I did so I asked why she wanted to know. My mom said that the nice girl who wears black asked about me maybe five minutes ago at the front door. Mom had told her I was having a fire and she started to walk to the backyard. I go to my room, horrified, and message Carly on MSN to demand what was going on. I shouldn't have gotten an answer since she had just been at my door but I did. Mother Hilda likes you. I haven't really told anyone this story before as it is one of my many more outlandish ones but my friend Felix still won't talk about it. I met him a while ago when I traveled back to

Newfoundland and asked him if he remembered Carly and the creepy house. He just looked at me with dead eyes and said, Mother Hilda is real man, don't mess around, and legitimately just walked away. I still have yet to make sense of it, like a lot of things that have happened to me. I want to share a more long term story that occurred over a period of year of my school career, my 8th grade year to be exact. I like to preface this by saying that I'm a male and bisexual as well as only being 13 when this first started so some of the decisions I made throughout this whole thing were pretty stupid on my part. Let's travel back in time to when my trouble started, the beginning of 8th grade.

The year prepping me for what was to come in my high school career. I was excited for this year, especially when I found out that a new kid was joining my class. We'll call him Liam. Liam was a tall, skinny 15 year old boy with black curly hair and blue eyes. He also enjoyed the same interests I had at the time, gorillas, Steven Universe, drawing, all that jazz. As a hormone-filled 13-year-old who had just discovered his sexuality, I was immediately head over heels for him. But due to the fact that I go to a religious school, I knew I couldn't openly date him without getting into deep trouble. I had to suppress my feelings for him, which turned out to be a massive bullet dodge. I became friends with Liam, and we talked every day we got the chance to. During lunch, during class, even at home on Instagram.

He was perfect for me. He was so easy to talk to. He was hilarious and just an all around down to earth guy. Two weeks after 8th grade we were scheduled to go on a field trip and Liam sat next to me on the bus. This was when it all really started, when his veil of who he really was began to slowly lift. The trip was a three hour journey to a museum and I thought it would be great because of who I would get to spend my time with. The first half hour or so was great. We did our usual session of talking and joking with each other when all of a sudden he began to stroke my knees.

I had very sensitive knees so it tickled. Laughing I told him to stop because it tickled so bad. He then moved up his hand to my thigh and rubbed that instead. Part of me was a bit uncomfortable with this but at the same time I was a dumb 13 year old that really liked this boy and I wanted him to like me back so I chose not to say anything or move seats. He did the same thing when we were going back to school after the trip. I regret not saying anything because maybe that could have saved me from a year of torture from this guy. Cut to around three weeks after this experience. Liam and I are chilling in the gym

before physical education. He asked me to hold onto phone, as his shorts didn't have pockets. I happily obliged and stuck the phone in my pocket. During our lap runs, I had to use the restroom, so I excused myself to the restroom to do my business. While inside, I remember that I had Liam's phone, and I felt a little nosy, so I decided to snoop to see what juicy secrets I could find out about my crush. He didn't have a password so it was easy to access whatever I wanted. I decided to look in his gallery and what I found took me aback. There were around 250 pictures of me in his camera roll, all just me. In class, during the trip, me and him. So I had known that he had taken others I did not. I thought this was creepy but at the same time stupid 13 year old me was happy that Liam liked

me enough to be the center of his photography. So like his creepy actions before, I brushed this off. As the weeks went on I noticed that Liam not only liked me but was obsessed with me. It started off with me noticing small things like he wore the same color and brand of shoes I wore and then turned into more specific things like t-shirts with specific bands and characters that I wore. I was more so flattered than creeped out at his actions and brushed them off once again. In December of 2016 was when I realized that what he was doing was creepy and disturbing. It was after school and my mother was running late so Liam and I were chilling in one of the empty classrooms waiting on our parents. Liam's mother always worked a little late so they always left school a little

bit later than everyone else. I was sitting in the front of the classroom and Liam sat in the back. He had sat his bag down next to the classroom door and since I was closer to the bag he asked me to get a book from his bag. I said sure and walked over towards the bag. As I bent over to reach inside Liam walked behind me and grabbed my butt with both of his hands. Startled I turned around and asked him what he was doing and he simply said that he was just goofing and wanted to mess with me. I had blown everything else off before the pictures and the touching of my legs but I knew that gripping my butt was just not okay. Now I was uncomfortable and I decided

that I didn't want to be in there with him anymore after that and I decided to leave. He didn't follow me out and just sat with a blank face after I left the classroom. I reported what he did to the principal on the way out but he didn't believe me saying that I was just trying to start trouble but would still talk to him about it, so I guess that's a great school system we've got here. The next day I walked into a class as usual and Liam was sitting in the back, saving his usual spot next to him for me, but he had a cold, dead look in his eyes when he stared at me. I reluctantly sat down next to him and gave him a monotone hey, but he said nothing in return. A few minutes go by in silence between us, other than the other

kids having their own conversations or doing their own activities, when Liam leans over and whispers to me. What he whispered to me made my blood freeze, and they're words I'll never forget. You really tried to report me? I thought we had something. I'm gonna make your life a living hell. And he did, just that. Every day for weeks on end, he would find a way to get to me and do whatever he wanted. He would manage to find times when I was alone and touch me, hurt me, or even worse. Even when crowded in the halls, he would do things like give a subtle butt grab when no one could see.

It got so bad that I stopped going to the bathroom at all during school hours. I tried to report him, but no one would believe me. Saying he's an exemplary student and wouldn't dare do something like this. I came home every day with a bruise and mental scarring but I never told my parents in fear of them just automatically thinking that I'm doing it for attention. One time when I went to my locker I opened it and a note fell out. I picked it up and opened it. Its contents made me feel physically ill. It was a typed out letter from Liam detailing all of the disgusting and heinous acts he wanted to do to me. I tried to show it to the principal, believing that the letter would prove what Liam had done but he said since the letter had been typed and wasn't signed by him there was no proof that Liam had typed it and even suggested that I was the one who typed it

in an attempt to frame Liam for something he didn't do. All of my efforts to stop him were futile. I wasn't a violent person so fighting him was not an option. Liam was a sociopathic monster but he was smart. He managed to create a facade that he only broke when tormenting me. He was a star student as well as rather popular in our class. Compare that to me, an anti-social, somewhat rude and unpopular guy, he basically had the perfect target. Around February of 2017 my history teacher was fired for a different scandal involving voyeurism that I had no involvement with and was replaced by a new teacher who I'll refer to as Mrs. Bennett. Mrs. Bennett was a wonderful young woman who managed to make her teaching fun and interesting and was the only person who got me through this

tough time with Liam. Mrs. Bennet took a liking to me because of my diligence and hard work I did during that class. Mrs. Bennet noticed I always looked tired and or sad whenever I walked by when leaving. So one day as class ended, she pulled me aside and asked why I always looked so sad and tired during class. I was rather hesitant to say anything because I was worried that, like everyone else, she wouldn't believe me. But she seemed to genuinely care enough about me if she pulled me aside to privately talk to me, so I decided to tell her everything.

What had happened over the past year, how it all started, and how it is now. She stared at me, eyes wide and jaw dropped, listening to all of the abuse this monster had given me and how the school did nothing to stop it. She just gave me a warm hug and apologized profusely for what happened to me and said that somehow, something would be done to stop it. I told her that I didn't want her to say anything to the higher ups because I knew she could get into trouble because Liam could manipulate the situation to his favor. She said to not worry and that she wouldn't allow me to be hurt anymore. I left that classroom feeling happy for the first time in a while, knowing that somebody finally believes me for what he did to me. I felt like I had a sort of guardian angel. Mrs. Bennett kept her word on keeping me safe. She kept a close eye on me between classes, always dismissing her classes five minutes in advance so she could walk close to my classroom and keep a close eye on me as I walked through the halls. Liam caught on to this

and stopped touching me as he noticed Mrs. Bennett always eyeing him and I through the hall. I went to Mrs. Bennett's room after school whenever my mother was late so that Liam couldn't touch or harm me after school either. I thought it was all over but there was one last time that Liam tried to commit his sinister acts. It was around the end of April and Liam hadn't attacked me or touched me since February and I was resting easy knowing that Mrs. Bennett was protecting me from his dirty vile clutches. I was sitting in her classroom after school. I strangely didn't see Liam at all even though he was at school earlier so I figured he checked out early. Mrs. Bennett said she needed to run and collect copies of a test from the teacher's lounge which was all the way on the other side of the

school from the room we were in. After she had left I needed to use the restroom which was in the opposite direction of the teacher's lounge. I started walking to the restroom passing all of the empty classrooms on the other side of me when I thought I heard footsteps behind me. Still a bit nervous, I turned around and saw nobody in sight. I figured my mind was playing tricks on me so I walked another 50 feet to the restroom and used the stall. While inside I hear the door to the restroom open so I figured it was just another teacher staying late, needing to use it. But then the lights switched off. The power didn't go out. It was switched off because I heard the light switch click. I was petrified as I sat in total blackness but this didn't even compare to what happened

next. I heard the voice of Liam saying a sing-songy voice, come out, I've missed you. I was on the verge of tears at this point but dared not make a sound as I heard him slowly walking through the bathroom. I was on the last stall at the end and to my horror he began checking the stalls trying to find me. After snapping out of my frozen fear I prepared for him to open the door to my stall. He knew that I was in this last stall laughing and taunting me while standing on the other side of the stall door which was his biggest mistake. I bowed my legs back and as soon as he opened the door kicked the door back in his face with full force. I heard him yell in pain and fall backward from the impact. I took this time

to pull up my pants and run out of the restroom with him following close behind. As soon as I burst out of the restroom Liam burst out right behind me and tackled me to the floor. He had a large pocket knife in his hand and successfully slashed me a few times on my arms and hands. I heard Mrs. Bennett yell to get off of me and ran over to tackle Liam to the ground, wrestling the knife out of his hand. At this point, other teachers who hadn't left the building had come outside to see what the commotion was. Mrs. Bennett was screaming for teachers to call 911 while I was laying on the hallway floor, sobbing profusely and my arms in a bloody mess. The police came and arrested Liam and I was taken on the hallway floor sobbing profusely and my arms in a bloody mess.

The police came and arrested Liam and I was taken to the hospital in an ambulance. My parents were notified and they showed up at the hospital in hysterics over what just happened to me. Finally after my wounds were stitched up and I rested for a while my parents came in hugging me asking what had happened. So I explained to them what had been going on in the past school year and they were both crying and apologizing profusely for not noticing that something was wrong sooner. I also got a written apology from the school principal basically asking me not to sue but I didn't care about that anymore. The important thing was that this sick freak was caught and couldn't harm me or anyone else. As for Liam he was sent to a mental institution and as

far as I know he's still there today. I'm now 16 years old and changed forever because of what that monster put me through. I've taken jujitsu as well as always carrying a pocket knife with me wherever I go. I consider Mrs. Bennett a savior because if it weren't for her, I most likely wouldn't be alive or would have continued to endure Liam's torture. For what she did, I'll always be thankful to her. I was about 7 to 10 years old at the time of this story and live where I do right now. A lovely green area in London, Chiswick. It's gorgeously lush with greenery and trees.

The only clearings being the parking lots 50 yards from my front door. It may be important to note that there is an old person's home in front of us. Now, my hometown isn't typically a crime-ridden city, it's one of those high-class towns. That's why what happened next is so out of the ordinary. It's nighttime and the moon is shining on the somewhat reflective gravel of the parking lot. As I'm preparing for bed and a movie, this taking place in my parents room, we all collectively hear the rusty wheels of a camper van pull into the open residential parking lot. We look outside because it's a quiet neighborhood and there normally isn't much commotion at this time.

It's a glance that lasts a second before we resume our tucking in, that is, until we hear a frail scream and whimper. My parents arch a brow practically in unison and go to the window. Kids are curious, so I venture to the gap between both my parents as they looked out. That old woman was shoved out of the camper van by a burly small man just inches taller than the elderly woman. He grabs what seems to be a champagne bottle and smashes it above the woman's head. She falls and he pulls her back up again to repeat perhaps thrice more. My parents were shocked and tried to edge me out of the gap but I was morbidly curious yet entirely concerned. Rushing to the adjacent window without a crowd I looked out to see more

of the scene. The man begins to shout quite drunkenly at her and tells her to get lost. She began walking, her head bludgeoned with shards of reflective glass, her white silvery hair as stained as she begins trudging to the small alleyway to the other side of my home in the next block. I raced to the bedroom window on the other side of my home to keep eyes on her. My parents remained in their room. They still have and to this day told me why they didn't follow her as I had. I watch her disappear around the corner and then charge to my parents' room. I pull my father's hand and says, call the police dad. He doesn't answer my exclamation and pulls me to my bed and tucks me in, walking back to his room and to my mother.

They closed the door. The camper van had been gone at this point, but I was terrified he'd return. My father locked all the doors and my window, but it still felt scary. Needless to say, I had to stay in my parents' room due to how the incident spilt into my dreams. I asked them a week ago, now being 18, on what happened, but they refused to talk. My dad says he straight up doesn't remember. My mother tells me there was shouting but no blood. I was adamant in my position. I remember everything vividly. It baffled me because this incident was what solidified my inherent interest in crime I suppose. My parents downplayed or just don't remember this incident and I think that's what scares me the most about it. The cloud of amnesia my parents developed. I'm willing to bet my life that this did happen and when I look at reports or newspaper articles, nothing comes up.

Wherever that lady is, I hope she's okay or in a better place. However, the feeling I'm the only one who. Myself, my brother, and two younger sisters. However, my first run-in with my guardian angel happened when there were barely three of us. Age, six years. I feel that it's important to say that I have a condition called Turner's Syndrome. One of the effects is short stature and a youthful appearance, meaning I was a 6 year old that gave the visual illusion of being maybe a 4 year old. I had started first grade that year. It was really my first year of school. At that time in my state, kindergarten was optional and preschool was rare. My mom had opted out of kindergarten for me. Because of my age, some of the details are kind

of fuzzy but I'm going to do the best I can. I remember crossing the playground to head home and stepping into the wooded area on the other side. It was a shortcut to get to the trailer park where I lived. Normally, I didn't take this shortcut alone. I would walk with the girl from next door who was in 6th grade. She had gone home sick unexpectedly that day. It had to be late fall because I was wearing my brand new coat. I love that jacket. Memory is such a tricky thing.

Some of the bigger details are hard to remember but I can remember thinking how pretty the changing leaves were as my eyes followed one as it skidded past me on the packed dirt of the ground beneath my feet. I was nervous about the walk home but didn't feel like I had much of a choice. I didn't know the long way around. I had never walked that way. Unfortunately another aspect of Turner's syndrome causes me to be very dysfunctional when it comes to directions. The way the doctors explain it is that my mind cannot make a map. I can picture where I'm supposed to go but not how to get there. I am fine if it's a route that I take on a daily basis but if I skip even a week

it's a toss-up if I can remember the way. This route should have been familiar and shouldn't have been a problem. I walked it five days a week and had for months now. I remember staring down the path. Other kids heading that way ran past me eager to get away from school as quickly as possible. The next thing I remember is being terrified and lost. I had somehow, for some reason, wandered off the well-worn path and into the trees. I don't remember how long I wandered around, but I remember the sun was starting to go down, so about an hour or maybe less.

Then I heard his voice as I stood and rubbed my eyes, crying. He asked me if I was lost. Looking up, I nodded. He said to follow him. Without a second thought I did. I have always been very overly cautious and leery around people especially as a child. The unquestioning way I simply fell into step behind him never made any sense. However the thing that strikes me as the strangest of all is that he never asked where I lived. I wish that I could truly describe him. I can tell you that I think he wore a tan, leather-ish type jacket, blue jeans, was average height and had short hair.

I tell you all of that, but the only thing I swear to is that he was average looking. He didn't take my hand or offer it any comforting words. He simply led with me struggling a bit, trailing a bit behind him. Soon we came to the edge of the tree line and he smiled and said, It's that way. I was so shy I couldn't even bring myself to say thank you. I simply nodded my head again, this time smiling and darting between the two trees and into the open where the gravel road leads me straight to my trailer. Before I did though I turned and looked back. He was gone, just like that. When I got home mom immediately

demanded to know why I was so late. She scolded that she was to call the police. I blurted out that I had gotten lost but didn't get any further than that before she suddenly looked at me. Where's your jacket? I reached up and patted the top of my head. I'd been wearing a coat like a cape, not with the arms tied around my neck but the hood on my head, believing that it would hold on. It was then that I remembered struggling to keep up with the man and how uneven the ground was. There were times I was even stumbling a bit in the effort to keep up with the mystery man. I must not have noticed when it had fallen. I timidly told my mom that I had lost it. Angrily, she took my hand and was headed back down the route I had taken

home to try and find it. It was nowhere. She was furious. She reminded me of how expensive the coat was and I was heartbroken. I went to sleep that night thinking it had been the worst day of my life. The next morning was Saturday. I got up and got ready to go out and play in the front yard with my younger brother. My mom reminded me not to be out too long seeing as how I didn't have a coat to wear. We flew out of the front door but I stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting right outside the door somehow was my lost jacket, folded and looking none the worse for wear. I grabbed it, put it on and ran in to show my mom. She looked confused and of course asked me where I found it. I told her the porch and she sat silent for a while before making a declaration that one of the other kids must have found it

and brought it back. She wasn't convinced and neither was I. Age 12. We lived in a rental house, had no vehicle and my mom and her boyfriend were both unemployed. To say that there were financial issues is the understatement of the year. In fact the utilities had all been disconnected and we were two weeks away from the sheriff showing up to padlock the front door and all of our things along with it. Naturally, my mom had not the slightest idea of where we were going to go or what we might do. That's when my mother's brilliant boyfriend, one of many, had the ingenious idea. You see, we had never really traveled outside of our small county and rarely out of our tiny town. We were a week away from school being out for summer vacation. We weren't exactly surprised when late that Tuesday afternoon my mom burst into the living room

where we were watching television to announce yes, I am embarrassed to admit that we were stealing the neighbor's electricity via a drop cord. You guys need to pack a bag, but not very much. We're going across country on an adventure. So that's what we did. Well, sort of. We did go across the country, but it wasn't much of an adventure. See, said boyfriend owned a small two-door Ford Scorpio. This was the mid-80s. Yeah, I'm old. So mom, boyfriend, four kids, and a family friend all pile into this small cramped space, along with everything they might need to somewhat survive. Camping gear, ER tools, clothes. It wasn't until that night that we learned his plan to finance this little fiasco.

Most towns have emergency transit assistance programs in place. This can range from a meal at a shelter with the gift of gas money to move along, emergency food stamps, and a small amount of cash or a church that will step in. A lot of times when all else fails, we would find a spot to pull out the camping gear and stay overnight. Those nights were kind of nice, even if it were all those people shoved into what should have been a four-man tent. We got to run, yell, and scream. We got to be kids. By this time, the novelty of the adventure had started to wear off. Boyfriend did nothing but complain. My brother snored too loud. We were unbearable when we got wired up on candy and that was just

about all we wanted to eat. I mean, we were four young kids stuck in a cramped car at least 16 hours a day, every day. The church is where I saw him this time. We had been directed to this church in the middle of nowhere. It was down a dark dirt road and we had gotten a bit lost. So by the time we pulled up it was dark and there were no cars. The car sat parked with headlights shining on this older out of date one room church. We heard the adults contemplating what to do next. Should we just see if we could find a place to pitch the tents? That's when I looked up and saw a gentleman coming around the side of the building from what we assumed to be the church's living quarters. He walked up to the boyfriend's window and listened as he was given the same rehearsed speech that had worked over and over again so far.

Without another word, he moved to face the rear passenger side window. It was rolled down already. The AC in the car didn't work and it was so hot. The smile on his face was so warm. How are you tonight? His question was clearly directed at me. Fine, thank you. He nodded and mumbled to the boyfriend. I'll be right back. Moments later he did return, handing the boyfriend enough money for a tank of gas, a hotel room, and McDonald's. He then stepped back and talked to us again.

Looking at my brother, he said, Snore as loud as you want. And handed us each a full-size candy bar. The adults looked shocked as he turned and simply left back the way he came. I was smiling. As soon as he rounded the side of the church and out of view I recognized him. It was the man from the woods. Don't ask me how I recognized him, not knowing for sure what he looked like but I had no doubt it was him. The next day we went back. I guess the boyfriend thought that maybe we could get a bit more out of him. There was someone else there this time though.

This person looked at my mom like she had three heads when she asked about the guy from the night before and if she could speak to him again. He proceeded to say, there couldn't have been a guy out there at that time of night. The church didn't have any living quarters. In fact, it didn't at the time even have an active congregation. He was just there to take care of the landscaping, I think. Age, 24 years. At this time, I worked at a convenience store as a clerk and was trying to figure out what I truly wanted to do with my life. This time, the lack of prosperity and stability was all me.

I loved the job but hated the location of the store. It was a good 30 minute drive from where I lived and I didn't have a car. And because I know it's going to get brought up, there were no buses that went out that way. All of this meant that for minimum wage I had to find a ride to and from work every day. To work wasn't as big of a deal. I went in around 4.30pm. A ride home was normally trickier. Not nearly as many people are willing to go 30 minutes from downtown to pick you up at almost 1am. It had been one of those days. I still didn't know how I was going to get home.

No one could come to grab me and it was toward the end of the month so I didn't have a dime for a cab. In fact, I was surrounded by food but literally starving. I didn't even have the money to buy something to eat. It had been dead all afternoon. I stood behind the counter behind the register thinking about all the side work that I was going to be getting done because I couldn't stop thinking about the ice cream over there and the cooler that I really wanted. I was beyond stressed and more than a little overwhelmed. I was so lost in thought that the door chime almost didn't snap me out of it. Glancing up I watched him enter. I had a strong feeling of recognition, but I couldn't quite place the face. He walked over to the counter with purpose. He had a peaceful look on his face

as he laid down a wad of rolled up money on the counter. Get yourself some ice cream, was all he said before turning around and walking out. I stared in disbelief. As soon as I could get my lower jaw up off the floor I whispered, it can't be. It was the guy from the woods. He didn't look a day older than he had when I was six years old. He was wearing the same soft smile as he had worn when I was 12. Walking over I picked up the roll of money and began counting. There in my hands was enough for an ice cream and a cab ride home. I can't explain it. It doesn't make sense that I can't describe him to anyone yet the times he has shown up I had no doubt that it was him. I recognized him.

The other more plausible explanations are endless really I I'm aware of that, however I have no doubt. Other stories that I have contributed are all my attempts at having a spark of imagination and this time I assure you, I have had the privilege of meeting my guardian angel three times. I am comforted that he was there. That doesn't mean I wasn't left a bit creeped out. I mean, really, can you blame me? As all legends, myths, and creatures of folklore, La Llorona has its origins and ancient beliefs the aztecs had a goddess called cuacoto she was half woman half snake it was associated with the soil fertility and childbirth and most important it was the patron of women who died during childbirth

as the aztec myth goes she abandoned a a son, another god, on a crossroad, and from time to time she would come back to the site and would cry in regret for her lost son. In a compilation of testimonies taken from natives who lived through and survived the conquest, it appears that some ten years before the arrival of Spanish conquerors in the capital of the Aztec Empire, during a period of weeks and in the heart of every night, an unknown woman would scream and cry, Oh my children, we will be lost. Oh my children, where will I take you? She was heard among the streets and canals of the city. The capital was built on top of a lake that doesn't exist anymore. No one dared to get out and see who was screaming so pitifully because of the fear and terror the sounds provoked. This, among other paranormal events, were taken as bad omens of impending doom and, later on, portents of the arrival of the Spanish conquerors. Much of the history of

those days were lost, so it is uncertain if this really happened. Some say they are interpretations of the history added later on. Following this, and as often happens when a superior culture conquests another, some of the Aztec cultural remnants got mixed with the new foreign Spanish one, and during the colonial age, the legend adapted, and the people living in the capital started talking of a woman who late at night, after the curfew, would start screaming and crying for her lost children. People said that a woman with a white dress would walk out of the lake surrounded by very thick fog, a veil covering her face, and would walk around the streets of the city crying and screaming.

People used to say that the drunks getting out of the cantinas and bars late at night would encounter the woman. She would talk to them and convince them to walk her home. The man, totally wasted, enchanted by her voice and silhouette, would follow her, hoping for a lucky night. The really lucky ones would notice after a while as they walked together that she was not even touching the ground, instead floating above it or not having feet at all. The man would instantly turn around and run in the opposite direction while the specter would let out a chilling scream that would cure him of alcoholism for the rest of the night. The not-so-lucky would follow her, oblivious to everything, hypnotized, until their feet fell in water, waking them and making them

notice that she was leading them to the lake, the woman now floating above the surface of it, turning around, removing the veil of her face to show one of two things, a pure white skull instead of a face with two black holes instead of eyes, the dress now as rotten rags, staring at the now purely sober gentleman. Other tales say that instead of a woman's head head she had a horse head with red glowing eyes the men would go mad or if he survived the encounter he would live to tell the tale and die days after of incontrollable fever and hallucinations there was only oral records of these supposed encounters passed down from parents to children and far more likely to be a cautionary tale of the wrong life of the alcoholics and that you should behave.

Now there are many recounts and different versions of La Llorona in different towns and cities. It's necessary to clarify there are more than one, but there is a connection between them. Every woman who died during childbirth was adored like a goddess, since their suffering for bringing a life into the world was compared to the death of a warrior in the battlefield and would go to serve the sun for four years before getting back and being reincarnated in the form of a hummingbird. Losing a child was and is horrible to the first mother who would cry in pain for their loss the myth devolves so the souls of those who harmed its children caused its death would be punished to

return and search for them for the rest of eternity carrying the guilt and suffering of what they did and here it is where it enters the most spread origin of the Llorona, the woman who drowned their sons in a river out of spite, anger, or madness, most occasions because of a cheating husband. You can find Lloronas in little towns around Mexico. Most of them appear near towns with rivers or lakes on rainy season. Just ask any old person around and you will probably hear a tale or two. We have a room in the basement that my dad uses as a music room. It's the only unfinished room in our house and I'm not sure why it was never finished. My dad also leaves the door open because it gets really cold in there and he wants the heat to circulate into that room.

My bedroom and my bathroom are also in the basement so I spent 90% of my time down there. It just so happens that my bathroom is right next to the music room too. I have had three different experiences where I'm in my bathroom and I hear three loud knocks on my door. It's so loud that when I answer the door I expect one of my parents to be on the other side. There was one time where I was in the shower and I heard three loud knocks over the sound of the running water. I yelled hold on and got out to find that there was nobody at my door. Everyone in my house denies knocking. On occasions our dogs, we have two, will go up to the music room entrance and bark at it non-stop. They won't go in, they will just sit there and bark.

My dad is very adamant that the music room door be open, it's a rule that everybody knows well in our house. One time I found it closed and everyone denied doing that as well. The only one that uses that room is my dad and it's his role to keep it open. The last experience I have with that room is one morning around 6.15am. I was walking out of my bathroom and heard a low growling sound coming from the music room. I stopped to really listen and make sure I wasn't hearing something else and I was sure the sound couldn't be explained by anything inside the room. I rushed upstairs to get my dad to show him and when we came back the

sound had stopped. I don't think anyone or anything has died in this house so I assume it's a ghost attached to an item or potentially one of us. My deceased grandma gave us her keyboard before she passed and it currently sits in our music room. Other than that, I can't think of anything else. When I was about 15, I went with my best friend's family to Utah to visit his family. My friend, who I'll call Joe and I were the type of friends where I could walk into his house even when he was not there, go into their fridge and eat whatever. His family had had me come with them on other vacations before so I was pretty much adopted into his family. In Utah we split staying time at his grandparents house and his aunt and uncle's

house. His parents wanted to make sure that we spent time at his grandparents so that way they felt like we wanted to be there but their house was pretty boring. The grandparents house was a stereotypical old person's home. They had nothing to play with and had a small tv in the basement that had just the basic 10 channels. They didn't even have a dvd, just a VCR. The area this story takes place is in the basement so I'll briefly describe it. When you come down the stairs, immediately on your right as you get to the bottom of the stairs is a walk-in closet. That's where they kept all their food storage and other supplies. Opposite the closet door, the basement opens up to a living room with 70's shag orange

carpet and rooms further to the left when you come into the living room. There was nothing about this home that gave off a creepy vibe and I was not paranoid whatsoever and nothing happened the first night that would make me afraid to sleep there, but our second night there, something happened. My friend said I could sleep on the couch and he would sleep on the floor at the base of the couch. We were watching Cool Runnings on VHS, pretty much the only good VHS movie they had, before we went to sleep. When it was over my friend had already passed out so I turned the TV off and went to make myself more comfortable on the couch. Before I was about to lay down I saw out of the corner of my eye this red orb. I turned to look

at it and it just slowly faded away. Now I didn't really believe in orbs and I still really don't know what to make of them but that was really odd to me. I shook it off and went to sleep. In the middle of the night, I stirred awake. I was confused as I got up because there was light shining in the living room. I figured someone must have gotten up and I turned to look. What I saw shook me to my core. I looked up at the direction of the light. It was coming from the walk-in closet. Standing in the doorway of the closet was this solid black mass of a person. I stared at it in horror, trying to make sense of it turns around and walks further into the closet. At this point my frozen fear broke and I practically did a barrel roll onto my friend. Joe, get up! Get up! I violently whispered. He stirred awake and in an irritated voice says,

what is it? What is it? I told him that there was something in the closet now joe doesn't really believe in the paranormal and was probably annoyed that i woke him up he walked over to the walk-in closet looked all the way inside and turned off the light dude there's nothing there he said after this i spent quite some time still shaking in fear, lying awkwardly close to my best friend because I was scared and somehow I managed to fall asleep. In the morning I tried to explain to myself what happened. It was hard for me to admit I was in a dreamlike state because I felt like I was pretty awake from seeing the light, but part of me wanted to believe that's what had happened. I told my experience to the family at breakfast the next day, laughing it off like maybe I was crazy or something.

The grandma looked at me and smiled. What she said next still gives me chills. Oh, you probably did see something. My dad died in the basement of this house. I see him down there sometimes too. listened to my loner music. It was kind of therapeutic for me even though saying this makes me look like a loser. I was on one of those loner walks and taking one of my usual routes which was through the field of my old elementary school. I like to walk there sometimes and just sit on the swing set, look at the stars and try to make sense of life and other things. This field of this school was contained by a

wooden fence that had a few exits for kids to walk to the school through from their neighborhood. I was heading towards one of the openings when I looked at where I was headed and saw the strangest thing. Standing about 40 feet from me was a man in a tuxedo and top hat leaning up against the fence and staring at me with the creepiest smile. When I saw this I was more weirded out than scared. Why would a dude dressed like this be hanging out at an elementary school at night? I turned off my music to make sure I could hear him if he started to walk toward me or something. I started to head towards one of the other exits and looked down at the ground for a second to avoid his gaze. When I looked up, the man was completely gone. My heart dropped in my stomach.

I hadn't heard him move or anything. Even though he was still a little bit off, it would be pretty easy to hear him jump the fence or walk away. After a couple of seconds digesting what just happened I booked it and ran all the way home in a full sprint. I've gone on walks since and even taken the same path but I've never seen that happen again. One more experience and we'll call it good. This was when I was about 20. I was serving a mission for my church in South Carolina and Georgia. For this mission we would walk the streets, knock on doors and talk to anyone we could about what we believe. I'm sure most of you hearing this are probably annoyed with people like me knocking on your door but

know that we do it because we really believe in our faith and we believe in sharing that with others. I hope you can at least respect that even if you are annoyed by it. We were walking the streets in a suburb of Augusta, Georgia when we ran into this odd dude. He was in his thirties and had a weird skin condition where he had bumps all over his body. Kind of like the guy in Black Panther except not cool looking. As we were talking he asked us if we could pray over his home. He explained to us that things have been difficult lately. His uncle had been living at his home and he just recently went to prison for ending someone's life, and ever since then, his home had just felt off.

People inviting us into their homes happened only a few times each day, so we took every opportunity we could, especially in the hot Georgian summer. As we walked in, I felt that the home was kind of off. It was really dark in there. Thick curtains had blocked the windows and all the lights were turned off. When you walk into the home, you come right into the living room. There's a hallway on the right of the door that leads to some rooms. Then there's this big archway that separates the dining room from the living room. So at the end of this big room of the living room and dining room combined was the back door that had a window on it. This was where the only light source was coming from. We sit on the couches in

the living room and the guy starts going off without us being able to get a word in. He starts talking about how he's trying to be a rapper and samples some of his music to us. I don't like rap to begin with but this was terrible. But to be polite we told him it was pretty cool. After this he goes on to explain why he invited us in. He told us that he was happy we were there. Things have been strange in his home lately. He then said something that totally changed the mood. He said, yeah like I said,

my uncle went to prison for killing someone. Actually it happened in this house. The blood of the guy is still stained on the back of the couch you're sitting on. Immediately my hair stands up and chills run down my spine. I took a glance at the couch and sure enough there was blood stains there. I hadn't noticed it before because of how dark it was in there. He continued. So ever since then I've seen things out of the corner of my eye and just felt like there's a negative presence there. After he said this something that was inhumanly fast went from one side of the room and ran into the kitchen blocking out the only source of light from the back door for a split second. As if this was a normal occurrence the guy calmly says like that yeah that's been happening a lot. At this point my friend and I wanted nothing more than to get out of the house I quickly said that we will pray over it I did and it did feel lighter

in there but still knowing that we were sitting on that couch we wanted to get out of there as soon as possible I quickly gave him a way to contact us and we got out. I had just turned 19 and currently in my 30s and was trying to live life to the fullest. When I was growing up my mom was super protective and at times extremely overbearing. I was never allowed to go to typical hangouts that the kids my age would frequent. I would say from a small child to at least 16 I spent most of my weekends indoors or in the confinement of my small upstate New York suburban neighborhood. At 16 I was allowed out on weekends but only if my brother who was three years older than me basically babysat me I would have to tag along with my brother and his friends who were much older than him I didn't mind getting out of the house and exploring activities at night was a new

experience for me and was a bit liberating not being cooped up in the house. I guess one could say I was a pretty sheltered kid and teenager most of my life. All this comes into play. Fast forward to when I turned 18. My mother finally let me get my driver's permit and a few weeks later I was able to get my driver's license. I guess she realized at 18 she couldn't keep that much control over my freedom. I would go to work, pick up anyone who needed a ride and make any excuse not to come home. Having my car meant the absolute ultimate freedom. It wasn't long after this, roughly about a year later, I started to fall into a group of troubled kids. I guess you can say they were the ones society called degenerates and bums. Most of them had a lot of very apparent

mental disorders, couldn't hold any jobs, most of them had a felony or a run-in with the law. The only consistent thing with them was the copious amounts of random drugs or whatever they could get their hands on that particular night. I fit right in with their little group of misfits mostly because I was their personal chauffeur the majority of the time. Boy, did that get old real quick. It wasn't long after I started to dabble into drugs myself. I found myself smoking pot almost every night with my new friends. We were the ones literally driving around, drinking beers, smoking and blasting our music at 2am and beyond and not

giving a single heck about any authority figures or anything for that matter. There were times where I had to elude the police at very high speed so I didn't get a DUI or my car searched. It became such a rush doing that. I felt certifiably hardcore. Or should I say, a certified idiot in such a short amount of time. It wasn't long after that that we started getting into more of the harder stuff. Ecstasy, MDMA, acid, etc. All this leads us up to the morning in question. This event literally changed my life. This shook me to my very core. In literally one year, I became a very sheltered teenager to a very cocky, invincible, and drug-infused, naive little

idiot. If you have made it this far into my story, sit back and enjoy the chaos I'm about to tell. It was a very foggy, wet, and humid August morning. As I mentioned above, I'm from upstate New York. If you want to get a sense of what upstate New York is like, woods, lots and lots of woods. Back roads and creepy winding woodland roads. After coming down from a night of tripping off a psilocybin, or what people like to call magic mushrooms, my friends, for the sake of the story, I shall name them Dave and Ray. Dave was a very tall and lanky and slightly balding red-headed man. He was what I called the fox alpha of the group. He was aggressive and intimidating and just all around kind of an idiot. Ray on the other hand was the complete opposite. He was a genuinely nice guy, average build and the pretty boy of the group. His problem

was always getting arrested for petty stuff, violating his probation and small things like that. This also comes into play as to why he couldn't get the authorities involved. So at about 7am, just as the sun is starting to rise, all of us have now been up all night and coming down from the excessive tripping from the mushrooms that same night. If anyone who hasn't done magic mushrooms, the day after is brutal. Your brain is literally running on autopilot. Common sense apparently is non-existent. You're literally in a zombified like state. As I'm driving, none of my friends or I are conversating. It was a pretty quiet ride, which is to be expected after having a crazy out-of-your-mind experience that same night. We are all just puffing on our cigarettes and just taking in the morning light.

After about an hour of driving on the deeply wooded road and with no destination planned out, I see Dave perk up in the corner of my eye in the passenger seat. He taps my shoulder excitedly and says, hey man look over there, there's a random girl walking, let's give her a ride. Me being generous by nature, I thought there wouldn't be any harm honestly seeing if this girl needs a ride or needs help. As I approached her I slowed my car down on the quiet, heavily wooded road. We had not seen a single car or even a house in the last twenty minutes, so I wasn't in any real harm or danger slowing my car down. At first glance of this girl, she seemed young but also mature looking, like a face that has been through some hardships.

She appeared to be in her early to mid-twenties, amber-colored hair that was backlit by the sun and, oddly enough, dressed kind of casual, like someone would dress going to brunch or a nice restaurant. Dave rolls down the window and says, Hey there, good morning. My friends and I saw you walking and we wanted to know if maybe you needed a ride somewhere. She then turned her body towards my car and I then saw an 8 inch wooden and metal cross with Jesus crucified dangling around her neck.

I thought to myself, of all the people wandering in the woods, it's a freaking bible pusher. Seeing how I saw the humor in the woods. It's a freaking bible pusher. Seeing how I saw the humor in the situation, I knew any chance of my friend hooking up with her dramatically went down. Just then, in an excited tone, she squeals with this almost adorable but sinister grin on her face and says, God bless you gentlemen. I asked the good lord to turn my tired legs into wheels and he must have sent you handsome men to the rescue. God is good. Without any hesitation she opens my back passenger door and sits directly next to my friend Ray. He is awkward and shy around her right off the bat. As I put my car

into drive I adjusted my rear view mirror so it's fixated on her face. I ask her, uh where do you need to go? She says, a few gentlemen wouldn't mind. You can bring me in my house. I would be most gracious. I said, uh no problem. Just let me know where to go seeing that I don't really have any idea where I am. Keep in mind this is way before GPS and Google Maps. I just had a terrible flip phone with no service. With the rear view mirror directly fixated on her eyes with a now dark and sinister expression on her face she asks, you guys are so silly. Does anyone know where you even are? Seeing how this is an oddly unnerving question almost in unison my friends say no and I am the odd one out saying yes

and then going along with my friends saying well no. She excitedly says, you guys must be really hungry. When we get to the house, y'all can come in and I'll fix you something good to eat. Just then my stomach churns and makes this internal groaning sound when you're so hungry anything sounds good. I look directly at her and say, uh, yeah, we'll see. She then throws an evil scorn my way and is not directly looking at me through my rearview mirror. I'm not going to lie, it was extremely unnerving. After about 20 minutes of going down random roads and just endless woods, she yells, okay, in about 20 feet my driveway's coming up. It's very hidden, and I'm warning you guys, it's at least a quarter mile long. As I approached her dirt driveway, the trees were so old and dense it almost acted like a complete sunblocker.

It was so dark I had to put my high beams on. Let me tell you, she wasn't kidding when she said her driveway was long. I was honestly surprised to find this random beautiful two-story house literally in the middle of the woods. As I parked my car, the first thing I noticed was how eerily quiet it was. I asked her, Um, do you live here by yourself? Are we going to wake anyone up? She said,

Oh, my mom isn't home. She went to early mass. Please, come in. With the thought of food in my head, my stomach was louder than the thoughts in my head to leave, and we all started following to her front door. Once she opened her door, she said for us to sit down in the table outside the kitchen with the stools. Looking around her house it looks like it hasn't been updated since the 70s.

Very Brady Bunch-esque. It literally felt like I was in a movie studio set and they precisely nailed the 1970s down to the T. But anyways she then busted out a family-sized version of macaroni and cheese and placed it in the oven she said i am sorry i wasn't expecting any guests i hope this is enough for you guys it should be ready in about 30 to 45 minutes for the next half hour we tried to make small talk with her for some reason i must have rubbed her the wrong way but she would randomly glance over at me and just not say a word. Just literally look at me for two to three minutes straight without blinking just give me this cold expressionless face. About 40 minutes go by and she asks us how old are you guys? We say our ages 19, 19, 20. She then says creepily i bet you guys would love some wine excitedly we all say

yeah that would be awesome just then she goes inside her fridge and about 10 to 15 seconds later she pulls out a labelless glass craft of wine and pours us each a glass. I didn't really question at the time why she wasn't enjoying a glass of wine but then again it was pretty early in the morning. After each of us finish a glass of wine each without asking or a pause she fills up our glasses and keeps topping us off. After the buzzer alarm goes off on the stove she pulls out this amazing looking pan of frozen mac and cheese But it actually doesn't look half that bad About mid-plate I felt this immediate uneasy feeling in my body I put it off as the wine and the no sleep and it being about 8 something a.m. in the morning

Just then in the corner of my eye I see this car pull in the driveway It's her mother. It dawned on me the awkwardness of the situation that we are in, and I'm not sure how this is going to play out. As the mother gets out of her car, she directly looks at my car and realizes she now has some uninvited guests in her house at 8am. I very fastly chugged the second glass of wine and said, Hey, I think your mom is home,

can I have another glass real quick? She has this awkward but mysterious grin on her face and says, of course you can, drink up quick and don't waste it. Just as she finished pouring my glass, her mom aggressively opens the door and looks at her daughter and says, now what is going on in my house? She furiously says. The daughter then says, mother, this is no way to act in front of our new guests. The mother is scanning us fiercely and I awkwardly bury my face in the glass of wine and the first thing she does is throw her purse down and comes over to us and immediately takes away the wine glasses from us and just throws them on the sink. When she took the glasses away I was mid sip.

As the glasses smash into pieces and tiny projectiles in the sink she looks at her daughter and says, What are you thinking? I told you to never give anyone that wine! She hysterically yells at her daughter. The daughter then says, but mother, our guests were thirsty. After the mother and daughter continued to fight, I tried innocently to intervene. I said, ma'am, I know how this might look, but let me explain. My friends and I had seen your

daughter walking on a sketchy road and offered her a ride. Your daughter was nice enough to offer us a bite to eat and we're going to head out after. The mother looks at me and says, I want you and your friends out of my house now. She starts shrieking. Just then the daughter pulls the mom into another room and they're going at it i mean they were just yelling at each other i hear things like we just got away with and also and you give them that wine are you crazy

while trying to eavesdrop and also look at my friend and start mouthing, we gotta go now. My friends look at me equally scared and Ray says, bro I wanna get out of here but I can't feel my legs. I think they're asleep. My other friend Dave says, bro I think she put something in that wine. My whole body's numb. This wasn't just wine. I guess me being bigger in size and more meat on me, I had only felt a moderate amount of numbness. It was almost like the feeling you get when you're on the toilet doing your business and you're 30 minutes deep in reddit stories and you try to get up off the toilet and you have to wait for the blood to return back to your leg to regain feeling. Kind of like that. But the feeling didn't immediately come back.

If anything, my body felt like it was starting to get to early stages of paralysis. I knew then that if we didn't leave, all three of us would be completely immobilized. With the biggest thrust and everything I had, I was about to pick myself up. My friend Dave was also able to get himself up as well, but Ray was unable. So Dave and me reached and grabbed his pant leg above the knee and carried him off the stool. It was this moment I realized the gravity of the situation. This was never about the wine. The mom was not only upset about the wine, something more sinister was going on. This went from an awkward situation to a legit horror movie plot.

All of a sudden the mom and daughter stop yelling at each other because I'm guessing they heard the stools being moved around and the commotion going on as we were trying to leave. And the daughter flies down the flight of stairs and sees us heading out, literally carrying our friend, and angrily says, Now where do you think you're going? This seemingly soft-spoken, eight-inch, wooden cross-wearing child of God suddenly became demonic real quick. I said, Uh, we're just getting some fresh air, maybe have a cigarette. She then says furiously, y'all can't leave. I haven't even showed you the best part. Y'all can't leave. She cries out.

Just then she goes in front of us and is now blocking the front door. This 120 pound female thinks she's going to stop my 250 pound big frame. I told her, Ma'am, please get out of our way. We just want to leave. She then laughs in a way I never saw coming and says, You fools. Once you came in, you were never going to leave.

This is God's plan. I had the most epic, oh no, rage in me build up. I had one more burst of energy left in me and before she could even react, I dropped my friend Ray and did an Adam Sandler and the Waterboy charge at her, instantly crushing her against the door. We both fall to the ground. I tell my friend Dave to get him and Ray to the car while I keep this now crazy lunatic at bay. I would never in a million years hurt a female, but the gloves were off. My heart was pounding in my chest as more of this poisoned wine was now coursing through my veins. I can feel

my body just wanting to collapse, but adrenaline is some crazy stuff stuff man. As I'm rolling with her on the ground in her living room she's shrieking like some crazed banshee and is trying to claw my face. I was able to get in a few shots that seemed to stun her and attempted to get myself back up and in my car to get out of this horror freak show. As I'm trying to leave her, her mom is screaming at her saying, Cassandra, just let them go, let them go. The daughter said in a snarling kind of voice, No, I want him. The others can leave. As I'm now on my feet, she is trying to pull me back inside from the open door.

Back into her messed up, twisted, Brady Bunch looking house. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have been able to get the upper hand on me but I can feel my numbed body actually get manipulated back inside. The only thing I can do at this point is to grab this weird black looking globe paperweight that is on this retro looking shelf with a heavy whack and came down hard on her head. I honestly just wanted to stun her but I guess it wasn't enough. She was still proceeding to pull me back inside and I raised my arm above my head and came down like Thor has briefly taken over my body. She stops trying to pull me inside and almost immediately this fountain of blood just pours from her head. She looks at me extremely stunned and with her teeth now stained in blood she gasps.

This was God's will. And I said, no, you're just freaking nuts. And she collapses almost immediately after that. I fly down her outside staircase, fumble around to get to my car and get the guys together. My friends jump in the car and within a few seconds I am leaving this crazy woman's driveway and just drive until I recognize where I am. Now, I could end the story here but there is an ending. After we got out of that horrible situation we all go to the safest spot we know, our nightly hangout spot. A very secured spot near the river where we

all go to get away from the world. We all end up passing out in my car. Whether it's from the sleep deprivation or the spiked wine we easily were passed out for at least 14 hours. Just then, we were awoken by a knock from outside my car. I'm literally laying in a pool of my own sweat. My heart is thumping because I'm thinking it's the crazy girl and she found us. Just then, my car door opens, only to reveal it's my other friend Sean. Sean looks at us and says, dude, none of you guys picked up your phones like you normally do, so I just figured you guys are down here by the river. He says, and then takes a better look at us and says, jeez, fellas, you guys look terrible. Yo, I don't mean to scare you guys, but come outside. I'll get a fire going and pack a bowl.

After we mentally gathered ourselves, we made our way to the roaring fire. Its warm glow gave me a little comfort, and smoking helped me relax. A good thirty minutes go by and none of us had spoken a word. And then Sean breaks his silence and says, Alright guys, what's going on? Why are you all acting strange? My friend Ray starts saying an almost a broken sentence, almost at the verge of crying, says, We gave this girl a ride, the wine, something was in the wine, I couldn't walk. Sean looks at us and says,

What are you all talking about? I said in an aggressive like tone, listen, we picked up this crazy little idiot on the side of the road, went back to her house, she gave us some wine with something in it. Her mom comes home, everything goes to chaos. I've literally barely got out. He starts looking at all of us nervously and asks where this was and we respond. He starts to visually get upset. Was her name Cassandra? Since I was the only one who had heard her name I go to him and say, now how did you know that? He looks at the fire and a lump forms in his throat. I used to live next to her. One driveway over, I was 8 and she was 15.

She would terrorize me. She would try to get me to do things to her. Her mom found out. She told her mom I was the one being weird and... A few years later, she took my cat and took out all his organs and laid them out in my backyard for me to see. My parents thought it was coyotes. She also poisoned my dog. He came in one night throwing up blood.

And when I was 12, she tried to have her way with me. I got home from school and she tried to get in my house and that's when I took my father's shotgun and smacked her in the head with the butt of it. We moved a few weeks later. She's absolutely insane. I say to him, Sean, this girl had an eight inch cross around her neck. What is that about? He paused, sighs and takes a deep breath. Guys, when you saw her this morning, she was walking to go visit her brother. That's random, so what? He responds, you don't understand. Her brother's in the prison the next town over.

They found two bodies at their house. They were murdered, poisoned I think. Her brother took the fall for his sister and his servant two life sentences. You want to know why she wears the cross? Because the devil comes in many different disguises. To this day that comment resonates in my brain. I'm not religious, but it does make sense. To the crazy woman and her mother in upstate New York, I hope justice finds its way to you. My parents have traveled for work my whole life. We live in Illinois on a farm with my grandparents, so when I was younger,

I would stay with my grandparents while my mom and dad were out of state working. The summer between 8th grade and freshman year, I went to spend about half my break with my parents in Iowa while they were working. My mom had to drive me back to Illinois so my biological dad could come get me for the second half of summer. It happened to be Friday the 13th when my mom was able to take off of work to bring me home. Other than some massive flooding in her area of Iowa, the trip went fine until we hit Illinois and the sun went down. The first thing was passing a cemetery that had 10 foot tall chain link fences around it with chicken wire over the top and a sign on the

padlocked gates reading, close from dusk till dawn. Right across from this cemetery was a campground called Rest in Peace Campground. My mom and I made some jokes about vampires because what else do you do when met with such weirdness? The second weird thing, the bright moon was quickly blacked out with clouds so my mom decided to call a friend of hers near our home to let her know where we were just in case and before she could say more than three words we both completely lost cell signal. As we're driving my mom tells me we're pretty close to a maximum security prison as a fun fact and says to keep an eye out for signs that say do not pick up hitchhikers. The signs are there as a precaution on the off chance an inmate

is able to somehow escape custody. The third weird thing I don't notice any of these signs for about 10 miles and point it out to my mom. She says we may not be close enough yet but just keep looking for them, which I do. As I'm looking eagerly from my window for any of these signs I noticed a woman's 6 inch high heel on the side of the road. About 3 miles down I notice a pair of panties that are ripped in half from the sides. Another 2 miles I see a white coat splattered in something dark in a ditch. I don't immediately point these out to my mom because I'm confused about these items

and confused about why I still haven't seen any of the signs even though it's been about 30 minutes since my mom told me about them. Finally we get back home and I tell my mom that there weren't any of the hitchhiker signs on the side of the road and start telling her about the odd articles of clothing I saw. My mom's jaw drops and she tells me that on her side of the road she saw a six inch woman's high heel, a bra and what was either a mini skirt or a tube top strewn randomly about. We were both left to wonder what the deal was with the clothes and why the signs weren't there bouncing worst case scenarios off of each other but ultimately decided we wouldn't talk about it

anymore because no one would ever believe us. Too many weird things on what happened to be Friday the 13th makes for a highly unbelievable story. I thought I dreamed it once so I brought it up to my mom about two years ago, so I was 23, and she remembered every single in my mom's house with my fiancé and daughter. My parents are out of town and normally I have to spend the week before they come home deep cleaning their home after it's left empty for months at a time, so we agreed collectively that I'll keep her home lived in until her return. The house is in the middle of nowhere on a farm, only neighbor being my grandma who lives on the same farm and was at work when

this happened. My fiance works the closing shift at his job and gets home normally between midnight and 1am. One night about two weeks ago he called to let me know he was running a bit late but on his way. About ten minutes later I hear his, which has a very distinct sound because of the exhaust system, about a half mile down the road. I hear it pull into the front driveway, engine cut off, door closed, my dad's dog starts going crazy, and then the front door opens and closes. My fiancé doesn't immediately come into the bedroom, which I don't think anything of because sometimes he goes straight to the bathroom to shower and change before coming to greet me. When I start wondering what's going on because I don't hear the shower, I hear his car about a half mile down the road. Pull into the front driveway, engine cut off, door closed, dog does not go crazy, front door opens and closes

and my fiance walks to the bedroom. I looked at him confused and asked if he got home 10 minutes ago then left for some reason he was like uh no definitely not why. So I explain the situation and he freaks out and starts searching the house then locks all three of the doors to the outside. I make him a copy of my house key and start locking the doors every night until last Thursday. My grandma was supposed to come get my dad's dog since my fiancee, daughter and I were leaving that night for Pennsylvania to see my parents for the weekend. So I left the door unlocked. I was laying down trying to nap when I hear the weekend so I left the door unlocked. I was laying down trying to nap when I hear the front door open then slam closed and assume it's my grandma

coming for the dog so I roll over and try more to nap. Five minutes later the dog comes to the bedroom and gets under the bed so I immediately call my fiance and tell him what's going on. He says he's still in town about 15 minutes away. So I immediately call my grandma who doesn't answer and text my cousin who said earlier in the day he might stop by. My cousin said he was at his house 45 minutes from where I live. So I text my fiance and explain that grandma didn't answer and cousin was at his house. 10 minutes later my fiance and his uncle pull up and start searching the house and our property, again finding no one and I'm almost in tears. I have no idea who's coming into my house or how they're getting out or if someone

is just opening then closing my front door without coming in at all. But it's unsettling to say the least, especially considering some other odd things that have happened recently but aren't necessarily noteworthy on their own. Last week, after a long, hard-fought battle with cancer, my grandfather passed away in his sleep. We didn't always have the best relationship. By the time I was 16, I was smoking weed and growing my hair long. By the time he was 16, he'd joined the U.S. Navy and was sailing out to the South Pacific on an aircraft carrier. Needless to say, we didn't understand each other for a long, long time,

but over the past few years we'd grown much closer. I guess because, as I grew older, I'd squared myself away and, in turn, he'd become a little softer, a little warmer in his old age. I'd developed somewhat of an interest in military history, so as a result we'd spend many an hour emptying beer bottles as I coaxed one story after another from him. By the time he died, we were talking pretty much every day, mostly by phone, but it became somewhat of a daily highlight for me. Naturally, when my cousin called one Saturday morning to tell me that he'd slipped away during the night, I was heartbroken. I simply thanked her for calling, hung up the phone, then sat down on my old coffee-stained couch, weeping uncontrollably. Not so much tears of

loss or grief, but tears of joy. Tears of thanks that I was lucky enough to build a relationship with him, even for a short time, long after I thought it was far too late to do so. A week or two after his funeral, the same cousin called again to inform me that she and her husband had discovered an old footlocker in my grandfather's attic. According to them, it was filled with old naval memorabilia. Photos, journals, and souvenirs of his time in the Pacific Theater of World War II. I got into my car and drove over to their house immediately, only to find that the footlocker in question was securely sealed with a rusty old padlock. My cousins confessed to not really knowing what was inside, but we agreed that the worn old US Navy

stencil made for an easy guess. The only thing to do now was to find a way to remove that lock. When I finally convinced a mechanic friend of mine to drive over with his pair of big, heavy bolt cutters, we spent an hour or so poring over my grandfather's effects. The photos. My god, those photos of him in his teenage years, he looked just like me. I mean, it was like looking into a sepia-toned mirror, like a version of me from some alternate dimension. By the time my friend bid farewell and drove home, I had a solid lump in my throat. If only my grandfather and I could have reviewed the Foot Locker's contents together. If only we'd had a little more time.

Just a little more. It was later that evening, while polishing off a bottle of his favorite variety of navy rum, that I came across a small, leather-bound journal, hidden in the bottom of the Foot Locker. Placed neatly on top of it was an old, paper ID card, the flimsy kind with faded ink that was distributed across the services during a time of extreme scarcity. The ID card depicted a logo of sorts, with both English and Japanese characters visible on it. The English characters read, A.B.C.C. all caps. Confused, I hammered the acronym into Google, wondering why I'd never heard him mention such an organization before.

It didn't take long for me to work out why. The letter stood for the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission. My grandfather was barely out of his teenage years when the Second World War ended. It was without a doubt his favorite story to tell, of his time in the Navy, when he and his shipmates had gathered around the wireless radio to hear the news of the Japanese surrender. He said he'd never seen anyone so happy in all his life, that all the college football touchdowns and lottery winners he'd seen couldn't hold a candle to the kind of happiness he'd seen on his friends' faces. They were going home. Only they didn't go home. Not for years. I always assumed that my grandfather

was just a regular part of the occupation forces that stayed around in the Japanese islands during the aftermath of the surrender. But I was wrong. He was a part of something uniquely horrifying in the history of warfare. Formed shortly after the war by President Truman, the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission was intended to merely observe, but not to treat, the effects the bombs had on any survivors. Observe and report. Don't try to alleviate suffering. Just observe and report. The thought just sent a chill through me.

I opened the journal and began to read. December 5th, 1946. 17 miles offshore mainland Japan. We're due to depart for the city of Hiroshima any day now. Captain Rabant says it'll be dirty work, but it won't just be counting bodies. He says the world has never seen a weapon like this before, that nobody really knows exactly what happened in Hiroshima. This has us all very excited to see the damage. The crew is mostly in agreement that the Japanese deserved what they got. Lots of guys say this is payback for Pearl Harbor. That they're reaping the whirlwind. Whatever that means. Wrote home to mom. Her and

pop say they're real proud of me. My grandfather's writing drifted off onto thoughts of home, and I found myself skimming the pages until the next mention of Hiroshima. Why hadn't my grandfather mentioned this before? It's not like he could have forgotten that he was part of an event that shaped human history, an event which birthed a new age of terrifying atomic warfare. I found the next relevant entry in continued reading. December 14th, 1946. Hiroshima City. We patrolled into the city for the first time today. None of us believed that a single bomb could wreak such devastation. Command made us wear gas masks and thick rubber clothing. It made us look like monsters, but when we saw what our government

had done to the city, even in light of Japanese atrocities, we felt like monsters too. The first thing I noticed was the silence. Whenever the roaring winds died down, we were greeted with the most hideous stillness any of us had ever experienced. Years of churning engines and booming ships' guns had left us, unaccustomed to such a lack of noise, and it disturbed us greatly. No city should ever be so quiet, but it wasn't really a city anymore. It was a dead city. We were walking through a great stone corpse, a concrete cadaver whose bones towered above us at every turn. Yet that's not the thing that stuck with me. What gives me the shakes are the shadows,

burned onto the crumbling brick walls. Those shadows are all that's left of people, burned into my memory like they burned that morning. Only when I stared dumbfounded at one particular human shape, the perfect outline of a once living person, I swear I saw it shift. Not by much, but I swear I saw the shape's head twist a little as I looked. It wasn't just me looking at that haunting charcoal black shape. It was looking back at me too. I finished off the glass of rum in one gulp, feeling the chemical warmth of the alcohol spreading through my guts with a shudder. It was no wonder he never mentioned the things he'd seen in Japan. They were the terrified

delusions of a frightened young man. Maybe he just burned out, and the things he had seen were manifestations of years of suffering under such unnatural stresses. I found myself reading on before I could consider it any further. December 18th, 1946. Hiroshima City. We ventured deeper into the city today, closer toward the epicenter of the blast. It was worse. Much worse than our first visit. The bodies. God help us. The bodies were beyond counting. In some places it was hard to tell where each dead Japanese ended. And the next one began. One carcass of a larger building had what looked like

a patchwork quilt of burnt bodies carpeting its ground floor. It reminded me of a painting I once saw by that Spanish guy. Picasso. I forget the name of it. Just inhuman looking figures piled on top of one another. Twisted, broken, and charred. What did we do here? Our patrol stopped when we encountered a deep pit of bubbling black sludge. Steam rose from it. I could feel the heat through my protective gear, and we dared not get any closer. The wind died down for a moment, bringing back that awful silence when we heard it. Moaning, a deep, muffled groan that seemed to vibrate from the black sludge itself. A portion of the sludge bubbled up, forming a loose structure for the briefest of time.

It almost looked like a hand, like fingers reaching up from the stinking mass of tar. Then it was gone again. One of the men pointed, emitting his own muted cries of terror as another shape bubbled up from the black sludge before melting back into itself. A face. A clear human face. Empty eye sockets. A screaming maw.

When we got back, I asked my friend Bill if he saw it too. He said no, and anyone who thinks they did needs to have their head examined. None of us have talked about it since. As long as I knew my grandfather, he'd always mocked my love of horror stories. Silly tales for kids and dopes, he told me. There are much scarier things in real life.

I had no idea he was talking from experience. It was getting late. I had to work early the next morning, but I poured myself another glass of strong, dark rum and continued to read. December 18th, 1946. Hiroshima City. Today was our last patrol and we're all glad for it. The closer we ventured into the city, the more horrific were the things we saw. Two sailors had to be taken to psych evaluation after what we encountered the last time. The rest of us are in silent agreement not

to talk about it, before the same thing happens to us. But after today, I'm sure that number is going to be much higher. A lieutenant had us shoot a pack of Japanese dogs that had become feral due to lack of order in the city. On all fours, they bounded out of some of the ruins in front of us, howling and barking as they limped along. We opened up on them with our carbines, putting each one out of its misery

without so much as a second thought. They were different, though, these ferals. One man said it was the effect of the poison that the atomic bomb releases when it explodes. Some kind of invisible toxin that floats around in the air and ruins whatever it touches. It had a horrible effect on Hiroshima's dogs. Or at least, that's what we told ourselves. When we got closer and had a good look at what we had just killed, we started to doubt that these things used to be dogs at all. They were so misshapen, hairless with mottled skin.

Wild dogs. That was the official explanation during our post-mission briefing. Wild dogs that had suffered the effects of atomic poisoning. But I know different. We all know different. Through clumped black fur, matted with pus and blood, I saw something. Something familiar that seemed to shine out from beneath piles of burned, swollen skin. Dogs don't wear gold watches. Dogs don't wear rings. Trauma. That's all this is. A young man suffering from post-traumatic stress who couldn't quite compute the kind of destruction he was seeing. I couldn't blame him. Lord knows how I would

have reacted if I was in his boots. I couldn't tear myself away. December 19th, 1946. USS Cabot. My buddy Bill told me a story today. It was his first visit to Hiroshima. We call it the Dead City now. He said it was raining when their landing craft docked. That the raindrops fell heavy, fat and black with dirt and oil. The black rain collected on the goggles of his mask, obscuring his vision until they could be properly cleaned. He said other things fell from the sky too, collecting on his protective gear, strands of hair, the odd fingernail, scraps of clothing. I never saw Bill cry before. Even when we lost Jack Holmes to that Japanese kamikaze pilot.

But he cried today. He cried when he told me about the kindergarten. How they found kids' bodies, all lined up, each with a tiny skull fracture. They, like the dogs, were changed. Changed in ways that he couldn't explain or unsee. Extra eyes, no eyes at all. Extra limbs, heads splitting and duplicating. He cried when he described how their teacher,

a charred mess of black encrusted skin, had emerged from the ruins and begged them to kill her. He cried when he told me how she knelt before him and pulled the barrel of his carbine to her forehead. And he cried when he told me how he pulled the trigger. Enough, I thought, and slammed the journal shut, putting it back in the bottom of my grandfather's footlocker

before covering it up with other items. Hiding it, just as he had done from the world. From myself. I haven't looked at it since. I can't bring myself to read anymore. I haven't looked at it since. I can't bring myself to read anymore. He'd spent the rest of his life trying to forget what he'd seen in the dead city, and there I was filling my head with it all. I tried to cry. I tried to let it all out, but as I thought about his friend Bill, how he'd put that poor school teacher out of her misery, I couldn't cry. I didn't deserve to. I visited my grandfather's grave this morning, planting a little stars and stripes into the soil above him. I'm so proud to call him my grandpa, and I think for a while. Towards the end,

he was proud to call me his grandson. It was painful, but I found myself feeling glad that he'd finally found an escape from the terrors that visited him, terrors of which he never spoke. He deserved peace, and the things he'd seen couldn't reach him anymore. But it hurt that neither could I. Yet when I looked in passing at the gravestone next to his, I saw the first name and understood why he insisted on being laid to rest in this particular plot. Bill, it said. They had spent the war next to each other, and now they would spend eternity next to each other. I realized the bond that formed between men when faced with such unspeakable horror, an unbreakable bond of comradeship. The tears had no trouble flowing then. Rest in peace, Grandpa.

My name is Dr. Benjamin Kelly, and I'm a 31-year-old professor of primatology at the University of Manchester in Northern England. Late last year, my colleagues and I traveled to Africa on a research assignment in a place called Western Kigoma, a wild area of Tanzania that is home to a number of chimpanzee communities. We went in search of study and enlightenment, but all we found in the deep, dark jungles of Africa was fear, horror, and death. All but two of our research team lost their lives in ways almost too horrific to recall. I wish I could forget the blind terror we experienced there. Every day I try to come to terms with the ghastly things we heard and saw, but I cannot. So instead, I will tell you. Gombe National Park is accessible only by boat. Sandwiched between a range of steep,

mountainous terrain and the gargantuan blue waters of Lake Tanganyika, the park's geographical isolation has led to an interesting development in the flora and fauna. It is the effects of these developments on the thriving chimp population that our small research team set out to study. Loading our belongings into a small fishing vessel as the rising African sun turned the dawn sky a shade of blood orange. We sailed north for a few hours before we finally laid eyes on Gombe itself, a towering mountain crescent surrounding an area of dense, green vegetation. Landing on the shore there, unloading our gear onto the golden sands, it felt like something out of a Jurassic Park movie. The unfamiliar songs of strange tropical birds emanated from the jungle, merging with the gentle lapping of water against the shoreline. The verger looked virtually impenetrable, yet this was to be our home for more than a month.

The sense of adventure was palpable. For some of us, this would be the crowning moment of our academic careers. It wasn't long before we met the chimps. Through the thick, lush green of the rainforest, we heard them before we saw them. High-pitched screeches and deep, guttural hoots echoed off the dense canopy, yet we never saw one clearly. They darted among the treetops, a rustle of branches and leaves the only thing that gave away their positions. They were like ghosts. Then, after an hour of exhausting walking through the sweltering jungle, they were suddenly right in front of us. An entire chimpanzee community of around 30 individuals was spread out before the team, playing, grooming, and grazing on fruit and insects. Despite many years of academic toil, I had never actually been this close to a community of wild chimps before.

It almost brought me to tears. My first close encounter was with a chimp that our Tanzanian guides named Farida. She was younger and a great deal more curious than the others in her group, so I was not entirely surprised when she ambled up to me as I was having lunch. She studied me for a moment, sniffing the air and eyeing up the fruit and nuts cereal bar I was eating. She then pouted, gently rocking back and forth among the fallen leaves. Chimps use body language to communicate. Farida's pout meant she was asking me for some of my food. She was asking me to share. My heart was almost in my throat by the time I had broken off a small

piece and held it out for her to take. This was a dream come true. She took the piece of food, softly hooting a kind of thank you as she began to eat. We were building a relationship with the community. They were beginning to trust us. The trip was going well, but a huge roadblock in our assessments of the community was the reluctance of the alpha male to accept us. His name was Akinda. Akinda looked different to the rest of the chimps. Instead of the usual jet-black uniformity, the hair on Akinda's body was almost steel-gray. He was brawny and balding, with a white muzzle, his body hair missing in patches that revealed deep scarring, evidence of the countless and fruitless occasions on which his leadership was contested. But it was the alpha's eyes that made the real impression on me.

Most chimp's eye color ranges from a light golden brown to a deep, muddy ochre, but Akinda's were an almost fiery orange that seemed to glow from his orbital sockets. When he looked at you, you felt it. It was about a week into our search assignment that things began to turn sour. One of the chimps had suddenly become fatally ill. Our guide suspected that it had eaten something poisonous, or been bitten by a particularly nasty insect. It was never clear just what killed the poor thing, but one thing became worryingly clear. Akinda blamed us. One by one, the small group of chimps that interacted with us regularly began to shy away from us. A group of males began to almost patrol near us, venturing back and forth to make aggressive displays designed to keep us at bay.

Akinda always watched from a distance, his fiery, incandescent eyes glaring at us as he watched our every move. He wanted to make one thing clear. We were no longer welcome. Then, early one morning, one of the guards rushed into our camp, breathlessly commanding us to follow him. By the time we had rushed through the bush, towards the chimps, they were already screeching and screaming with an intensity and volume that hurt my ears, and had the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Akinda was circling a smaller male chimp, glaring at it with his long, sharp canine teeth bared. In the smaller chimp's hand was a piece of my cereal bar,

a piece I had given him just before we had headed back to camp the previous evening. Silently, we watched in horror as the huge, powerful alpha leapt onto the terrified, smaller chimp, clasping his hands around the lesser thing's skull. It struggled and thrashed, but it was useless. Akinda's huge muscles flexed, and we heard the sickening crack as he crushed the smaller chimp's skull in his grip. Blood and brain seeped through the cracks in his huge, black fingers as they trembled with raw, animalistic strength. The chimps' screaming

somehow grew even louder as the entire community seemed to lose their collective minds. Some looked visibly distraught, tearing at the hair on their bodies and holding their heads in their hands, while others seemed to celebrate the murder, encouraging Akinda by throwing their arms around him in a gesture of submission. Akinda shrugged off the affection, pounding his fists into the small piece of the cereal bar, taking out all the rage and contempt he seemed to feel for outsiders, for humans. Suddenly, Farida came dashing through the bushes to me, her mouth hanging agape, in a primate display of fear, yet her eyes were so full of fear and distress that it required no interspecies translation. for your lives. But then, the rest of the community had noticed us hiding in the foliage. The younger males that were loyal to Akinda began to confront us, howling and pounding their fists against the jungle floor in displays of raw aggression that leave me shuddering to recall.

I remember the fear in Farida's golden brown eyes. Run. Run fast. And run we did. We raced through the jungle, pursued relentlessly by Akinda's loyal followers. But they were faster than us, more agile. We were clumsy, afraid, and far, far from home. We didn't stand a chance. Out of around ten team members, I found myself running with a group of three, one of which was a portly researcher from Boston. I will never, ever forget his screams as the chimps descended on him. One seemed to dive onto him from out of nowhere,

a perfectly timed display of violent athleticism that sent our colleague crashing into the dirt and fallen leaves with a grunt. Two more chimps materialized from the thick jungle flora, pouncing on our downed team member with terrifying speed. Predators seek to kill quickly and efficiently, but these chimps were not hunting for food. They did not wish to kill efficiently. They wanted only to inflict pain. They only sought vengeance for our supposed transgressions.

They sought to punish us. The chimps began by breaking our colleagues' fingers, taking them in their strong, calloused hands before snapping them like little twigs. They tugged at the body, broken digits twisting them free and leaving nothing but ragged stumps of bone that leaked fresh blood onto the jungle floor. One chimp set about gouging out our colleague's eyes. We knew this not because we could see it in any intimate detail. He was lost in a mass of black fur and flailing limbs, but because his screams made us aware. Mid-scream, one of the chimps had taken a grip of the man's jaw, ripping it free from his

skull after a moment of bone-grinding, sinew-severing agony. It made his cries sound choked, inhuman. His cries subsided as he began to drown in his own blood. The last thing I saw before we began to run again was the sight of a chimp ripping away the man's trousers, tearing them open, gripping his genitals before pulling ripping rending they

they were eating him we tore past our encampment ignoring thousands of pounds worth of expensive research equipment wildly sprinting for the beach, for the boat, for our chance to escape. When we broke through the tree line and onto the beach, there was already a figure on the boat.

They must have heard the commotion through the jungle, seen us running and figured it was time to go. I remember thanking God for a moment, a second or two of pure divine thankfulness that something had gone right in the middle of all this madness. But as we got closer, and the hunched figure reared up and turned to us, I felt sick with terror. It was Akinda, his grey muzzle-stained crimson with the blood of a dead Tanzanian, lying broken and lifeless on the deck of the boat. His orange eyes burned with violent delight at the sight of us. As he threw the chunk of brown flesh he was gorging on with a wet thunk, he screeched

victoriously, sensing our exhaustion, smelling our ripe fear in the air. It seems too strange to think about it now, but I remember feeling a sense of bizarre clarity in those moments. It was all so simple. Akinda was everything. He was God and the devil. Through blood and pain, he had crowned himself king. He had tasted power, and he had grown mad with it. It was all so easy to understand. So very human. I stood still, sweating and panting, rooted to the warm, golden sand,

and waited to die. Akinda leapt from the boat, hitting the sand at a bound as he hurtled up the beach toward me. You cannot understand how weak and soft it makes you feel, seeing a creature that's so closely related to us display capabilities so much further advanced than our own. His agility and strength were as awe-inspiring as they were horrifying. I felt helpless. Akinda was about to tear my weak, hairless body apart, and there was nothing I could do about it. It happened in an instant. Something in peripheral vision, a blur of black fur, crashed into Akinda and sent him flying off course. I was stunned. Well and truly,

I had accepted my impending death so completely and utterly that I simply could not bring myself to run to the boat and secure my salvation. I just stared in amazement as a younger chimp faced off against the alpha of the troop. A young, gentle female that now furiously screeched as she bared her teeth to Akinda. It was Farida. She shot me a momentary glance as she kept Akinda at bay, a look in her eyes that I had seen just a short while ago. Run, man-thing. Run or die. Akinda beat his fists against the sand in pure, primal fury. He could not allow this display of insolence to go unpunished. We made a dash for the boat, my only surviving colleague diving on board to start the engine,

as I struggled to push the small craft into the open water. I could hear the battle ensuing behind me, Akinda's apoplectic roars almost drowning out the higher-pitched screams of our savior, Farida. My eyes began to tear up with the siege of emotion as the boat finally began to free itself from the sand, floating freely on the waters of the lake. At last, I heaved myself from the cool, crystal waters, and rolled roughly into the boat, before pulling myself up onto my hands and knees, just in time to catch one last glance of the Gombe shoreline. Akinda stood over the shattered form of Farida, her chest rising and falling as she lay defeated in the sand. She turned her head towards us and I swear, we made a brief moment of eye contact as her attacker towered over her broken body. Thank you, I said softly.

My words lost to the sound of the boat's roaring propeller. Akinda brought his fists down on Farida's head with catastrophic force. I couldn't watch. I spent the next three months on paid leave from the university before I finally went back to work. Even then, it took me a while to be able to look at a chimpanzee without breaking into a cold sweat and having to politely excuse myself. If it wasn't for Farida, I'm not sure I would ever be able to look at one again. The trip to Tanzania was a failure, and a tragic loss of life, but it was not without its lessons. Mankind tries to separate itself from the natural world, to place itself

above and apart from the beasts that roam upon the earth. But the more it tries to separate itself, the more obvious it is that we are still just animals. With all the brutality and beastliness that comes with it, suspicion, envy, tribalism, and war, we saw them all in the chimps of Kigoma, for we were them once, and in time, we may become them again. If you like my voice, join the dreamers over at my YouTube channel, Mr. X Dreams, or go to MrXDreams.com for more. Until next time, friends. Take care.