The Lets Read Podcast - 84: Episode 075 | United Kingdom & Home Invasion Stories | 22 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: November 17, 2020

Welcome to the seventy-fifth 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 the United Kingdom, A Man In Your Attic & Home Invasions on New Years... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ♫ Background Music: Iron Cthulhu Apocalypse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFvrqVSJE8E PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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Find a Toyo Tread Experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca So there's this huge public park in the south end of the city I live in. And every summer when we're kids, me and my friends would spend our days lounging around the swing sets or chilling by the duck pond. As we got into our teens and our group of friends snowballed into a much larger one which included girls, we kept the same tradition, all meeting up on the park to share pilfered booze and cigarettes when we got a little too big for the swing sets. So this whole thing

takes place after a long day in the sun, as we're all going our separate ways. I was part of one larger group that was headed roughly south, towards the main gates of the park that would put us back on the road. I'm talking maybe about five or six of us, all half drunk and acting dumb, all walking in one direction, and we hear one of those smaller motocross engines in the distance behind us. I've never even remotely been a gearhead, so I'm not about to tell you exactly how many cc's this thing had or the make and model. Just know we heard this thing in the distance and, at first, didn't really think anything of it. We're still walking pretty slow and the engine is getting louder and louder,

so we're kind of following the sound for a minute or two before this motocross bike thing comes into view. The driver, face obscured by his helmet, stops dead when he sees us, his head jerking so the black visor is pointed directly at us. Now, ragging a motocross bike around a public park like this is super illegal here in the UK, or if it's not legal, it's certainly not something the police would be comfortable with you doing. So I've no doubt that for a moment, the driver sort of panicked when he saw us. But I mean, we were just these skanky looking teens, so short of witnessing a murder, we're not the kind of

people to get right on the phone to the police. I remember one of us even waved to the dude and shouted, nice bike, but apparently the friendly gesture didn't do us any favors. The biker revs his engine and begins speeding over to us, covering the 200 or so meters in a matter of seconds. It was kind of intimidating, but more impressive than anything. I figured he'd come over to us, covering the 200 or so meters in a matter of seconds. It was kind of intimidating, but more impressive than anything. I figured he'd come over to show off his hardware and make some friends or something. But I was wrong. He stops the bike just in front of us, his face still obscured by the helmet, while the small engine steadily ticks over.

There's a moment of confusion while my friend raises his voice and repeats nice bike at the guy, louder and more pronounced so he can hear us over the engine and through his helmet. The biker doesn't reply, he barely even moves, just keeps staring at my buddy who paid him the compliment. It was about then we realized the biker's intentions were far from good. He dry revs his engine a few times, like the way a bull might rake its hoof in the dirt before a charge. Some of us turned to run, but it was no good. As you can imagine, trying to outrun a motocross bike is about as futile as it sounds. But it was his target of choice that horrified me the most initially. He had his pick of about 4 or 5 dudes, but he aimed for the one girl that happened to be with us.

He speeds forward and slams the bike into the back of her. She just tumbles into the dirt hard, stunned by the impact. The biker then forces his wheels over her bare legs and revs the engine The girl screamed in pain But before we had a chance to react and try to help her The guy turns his bike towards us and begins to try to take another one of us down It was absolutely terrifying Trying to dodge getting run over while also trying to get the girl up and moving again so we could escape I thought the biker might have broken a bone in the girl's leg, but somehow he hadn't and she could still walk despite having the most disgusting,

painful looking friction burns on the back of her leg. I suppose she was just running on pure adrenaline like the rest of us. An opening for a clean escape was found when the biker gunned it at one of us Only to almost hit a tree when the guy dodged his ramming attempt The guy turns to stop sharply and falls off his own bike Giving us a few seconds to get the girl up and run to the nearest exit A large stone wall we'd have to scale to get free Just as we're about to reach the wall

I hear the engine rev loudly again before one of our buddies screams out loud. I turn to see him on the grass, having been knocked down by the bike and he's holding his wrist as if he's been hurt from the impact or fall. The biker begins to circle us again, readying to charge at us once again. The rest is kind of a blur. I remember helping drag the guy up the wall by his good arm, watching the bike speed towards us again as the rest of us piled over the wall and into the safety of the street on the other side. But we still weren't safe. It'd take like 60 seconds for the biker to find the nearest exit and gun it onto the road we were on, so we had to keep running for a little while

until we were satisfied we were at a properly safe distance. The girl, who I don't want to name, cried all the way home, mainly from the painful friction burns the back of her legs had received, but also from the shock of just being attacked like that. It makes me angry just typing this, remembering how scared we were at the time and how just a little courage would have seen us through the whole thing. Well maybe if we stood up to the guy he'd have just left us alone instead of running like cowards which is exactly what we did. But part of me is grateful that we didn't. I know that sounds crazy but just hear me out. Since we're basically the goth kids, which was

just dumb now that I look at it, anyone who didn't wear a tracksuit was considered a goth. We got a lot of bull from local tough guys, and this caused a great deal of fear and resentment to build up collectively inside of us. Part of me thinks that if we really did pour out all our hate and discontent onto that guy once he'd fallen off his bike, I might only now be getting out of prison to tell you about it. I get that this makes me sound like a phony tough guy. No one likes people who say could've, would've, should've, but sometimes I think of how easy it would've been just to pile onto the guy and end him properly. His helmet protected his head, sure, but I still remember to this day how exposed the guy and end him properly. His helmet protected his head sure but I still

remember to this day how exposed the guy's neck was and without being able to see his face, without the eyes to provide that little hint of humanity, it would have been so easy to crush his windpipe right there on the grass. I think that's what scares me the most, how grown up me thinks about that time in my life. And how I still can't quite tell myself that it wouldn't have felt good to exact my revenge upon him. Back when I was a teenager, myself and my little group of friends used to hang around down by the river that runs through our town. We had ourselves a quiet little spot, overlooking a particularly wide stretch of the river. The views were amazing, especially at sundown and at night.

We could look out over the river at the pink and orange sky as the sun set, then gaze up at the stars for hours, all while doing stuff that we weren't necessarily supposed to be doing. So one night, we're all headed back home pretty late, wandering along little roads and side streets at a nice, leisurely pace. We'd been smoking and drinking, so we're dicking around a little, singing and having playfights and whatnot. But when we see a car's headlights cut through the darkness just a few hundred meters away, we shut up and freeze. We really didn't want to be stopped and searched by the police, so when we realized it wasn't a police car, we all start to relax and continue on our way.

We also just expected the car to pass us and head on to wherever it was going. Only it didn't. It crept around a street corner and stopped, engine still running with the headlights aimed at us, almost as if the driver is expecting us for some reason. We thought nothing of it. It's not like we'd done anything to offend anyone. Only someone truly paranoid would have felt any imminent danger at that point Now at this point we head around a corner into a dead-end street Well, it wasn't quite dead end There was a small footpath a little more than an alleyway that we regularly used on our route to and from the river

It's about 200 meters in length, and we're still at our slow, leisurely pace as we begin to walk down it. We had barely turned the corner, when we were once again bathed in the car's headlights. Just from the shape of the vehicle, we could tell it was the same one from before.

And only then did we start to get a little suspicious. I'll never forget that moment the revelry stopped, and the feelings of fear began to settle over us. Something was obviously wrong, as the driver stopped and watched us for a few seconds. It was obvious now that he was following us, but why, we had no idea. Then, the car began, like, dry-revving its engine, gunning it so the car seemed more like an angry monster with glowing white eyes than just some simple form of transportation.

We were already kind of jogging away from it at that point, but when it began to tear down the open street towards us, we all broke into sprints and began hurtling away from the speeding car. I remember thinking really clearly at that time how the road was too long and the car too fast for us to actually get away. It was a horrible feeling and in retrospect, I'm reminded of the old saying about being chased by a bear. You don't have to outrun the bear, just your slowest friend. There was a sickening crash of metal on metal, a scream from behind me. I looked back for a moment to see the car reversing from having collided with a parked car. The driver had tried to hit a friend of mine, trying to pin him between the bonnet of his car and the chassis of another.

If he'd been successful, he'd have crushed my friend's legs, and there'd have been a decent chance he'd either be run over totally, or bled to death from the catastrophic fractures right there in the street. Now by this point, we're only about halfway down the street, halfway to the alley, and therefore safety. The car reverses from having smashed into the stationary vehicle, adjusts its heading a little, then begins to zoom down the street towards us once again. I remember hearing someone screaming, and I honestly couldn't tell at the time who it was, but I know now it was the driver, barking out of the car's open window at us. For the second time, he tried to smash the front end of his vehicle into us,

only this time we're not on the road. We're on the pavement to his left, trying to use parked cars as cover. But as we found ourselves without cover for a few moments, the driver picked his moment and swerved to smash into us. I was near the head of the line by that point, so again, I didn't see exactly what happened. But later, I found out that once again, he was just inches away from plowing into my buddies and seriously injuring them. The guy's car is pretty screwed up at this point. We all remember the cranking, grinding engine sounds as he tried to reverse and take another run at us. But it was too late. We reached the end of the street and careened into the alleyway that

afforded us protection. But it didn't stop there. We heard the same screaming echoing down the alley towards us as he hopped out of his car and began to chase us on foot. We ran and ran and ran, farther and faster than any of us have before ever It was so rough that when we finally found somewhere to hide out one of the bigger guys puked up all the beer and chips We've been gorging on that evening It was absolutely disgusting sweating cursing Barely able to breathe from having run so fast But in the end we did actually get away

But that didn't mean we weren't half goddamn traumatized by what we had experienced. And for a good few days, we stayed well away from our little river spot and the roads we'd almost lost our lives on. At least until a few rumors made their way along the grapevine to us. So, to this day, I'm not a hundred percent sure how true any of this stuff is, but I figure I should include it for detail's sake. The day after, none of us had any idea what the car's number plate was. We tossed around the idea of going to the police, but it wasn't like we could be honest with them concerning what we were doing. Call it teenage paranoia, but we decided against any kind of legal recourse. The driver who had tried to kill us ended up arrested for the criminal damage he had caused to the other cars.

When we heard this, we knew it was the same guy who chased us that night. But when more details emerged on who exactly this dude was, I think I pitied the guy more than anything. Apparently he was a poor mechanic who relied on quick fixes of local cars for his living. In the weeks preceding the chase, he'd been targeted by car thieves, who apparently took to vandalizing his vehicles once they saw how relatively worthless they were. They had made this guy's life a living hell, night after night for months. The guy had mistaken the car thieves for us. I was still angry about the whole thing, sure, but it wasn't directed at the guy anymore. It was directed to the callous assholes that had driven this guy to near insanity,

to the point we'd almost lost our lives as an indirect result. Remember when you were a teenager and one of your friend's parents went away for the weekend? The excitement was palpable, right? In fact, I'm pretty sure when teenagers hear their parents say, weekend away, a series of events are set in motion that will inevitably end with their family home being trashed by drunken pubescents. So back when I was 19, word came down that a friend of a friend was having a house party on a Friday night. Now this was past the point where the first few house parties had ended with various kids being grounded for life and all that, so the emphasis was making sure word didn't spread too far so the party wasn't crashed by strangers, psychos, and strange psychos. Some way, somehow, news of the party was kept to a minimum,

and when myself and a few mates arrived at the house late on Friday evening, it was actually kind of chill. So for a few solid hours we chatted, drank, smoked, and showcased music to each other through the auxiliary cable hooked up to a small but powerful iPod dock. A few hours later I'm getting pretty tired, feeling worse for the wear after a few cans of cider, so I decided to call it a night early. I say early, it's about midnight at that point and my mates aren't nearly ready to stop drinking so I head home alone. It's a short quiet walk and I climb into bed pretty much the moment I get home. A few hours later I honestly couldn't tell you what time, I got a phone call. I roll out of bed, annoyed at whoever has decided to call at such an ungodly hour. Caller ID says it's my friend Tom, who had also been at the house party. When I pick up and ask him what he wants, he tells me that Mike's dead. Mike is a mutual friend who'd been at the

party too. I can hear people muttering in the background almost like they're trying to keep their voices down. So my first thought is that it's a prank of some kind and a bad one at that. I remember telling him pretty clearly that I didn't think that was funny in the slightest before promptly hanging up on him. I got back into bed and fell back asleep. Since I'd arrived home late pretty drunk and also had my sleep interrupted by that tasteless prank call, I slept in way, way late. I remember waking up briefly around 10am, checking my phone and finding no missed calls or texts. That was what reassured me that it had indeed been an attempt at a crappy prank.

If he was for real, surely Tom would have called or text again. But he didn't, so yeah, I thought nothing of it. That wasn't until I was woken back up by a knock on my bedroom door. It was my mom with the kind of serious look on my face that I rarely saw, if ever. Get downstairs right now, she hissed. When asked why, she looked straight up angry. Get out of bed right now, put some bloody clothes on and go downstairs. I had no idea why I would be in trouble with her,

so I was in an awful mood by the time I'd put some pants on and wandered downstairs into our family's TV room. In there, sitting on the couch, were two men, dressed very smartly in suits and ties. That's about the time that Tom's phone call flashed in my mind. There was no way these two could be connected, but as soon as they spoke, I knew what was happening. Good morning. We're from Merseyside Police. Your mom said it would be alright if we had a word with you. I was 19, a legal adult.

They knew well that they could just take me down to the station if they wanted to, but they didn't. They were being way too nice, almost as if though they were here to give me some very bad news. Mike is dead, isn't he? I remember asking. When one of them nodded their head, I felt awful. One of my best friends in the world had tried to tell me something world-shattering, and I basically just called him a liar. The police guys asked me a load of questions, basically none of which I had the answers to since I'd left the party early. When they were done, they thanked me and left before I immediately got on the phone to Tom

to apologize and get the full story. What haunts me to this day is that the whole thing had gone down just a matter of minutes after I'd left. According to him, Tom had said his goodbyes to me, closed the front door to the house, then headed into the kitchen to get another one of his beers out of the fridge. He said he'd noticed some kind of argument going down around the kitchen table, with a few guys and girls heatedly exchanging opinions, but he didn't think too much of it. What's a little debate between friends, they thought. But this was the start of an argument that would end in death. Mike, the guy in question,

had apparently been flirting with a girl he'd known for a while. However, this girl happened to have a boyfriend. Mike apparently didn't know this at the time and was defending a little harmless flirting while the girls were telling him how wrong he was to have such a casual attitude about it. Whatever happened, the girl he'd been flirting with had actually called up her boyfriend who lived just a few streets away to tell him about it. Now I hasten to add that she was in no danger at all. Mike wasn't a creep or a perv by any stretch of the imagination, so the only reason she'd opted to call her boyfriend was to cause drama. Apparently, the boyfriend was a bit of a psycho anyway,

and the girl called him knowing well he'd overreact and try to start a fight or something. Only he didn't choose to start anything at all. He chose to end something that night. Mike's life. It was actually Mike that answered the door when the boyfriend arrived and all it took was a simple little, are you Mike? For the boyfriend to realize that this was the guy he was looking for. But instead of shouting at him, shoving him, or even throwing a punch his way, the boyfriend took out a butcher's knife and plunged it into Mike's chest. The way Tom tells it is absolutely harrowing.

Mike had run through the house, running on pure fear and adrenaline with blood practically pumping out of a hole in his chest. The adrenaline was enough for him to actually scale the brick wall at the back of the house before he collapsed and died in an alleyway, surrounded by his terrified friends. This was all right about the time I was walking home on a quiet March night, feeling at peace with the world. I thought it was just another quiet spring night, but I was walking away from a murder scene. I was all chill, getting into bed, thinking everything was right with the world, and my friend was bleeding to death in a freezing alley.

And that's something I don't think I during the 1980s. For those of you that don't know, Liverpool's rough reputation was well earned back in those days. Some areas of the city were simply no-go areas for police, and if by chance they ever did come around, it was to kick someone's door off the hinges before lashing them in the back of a van. We've had race riots, our own miniature crack cocaine epidemic, full-on gunfights between street gangs in broad daylight, even threats of Irish terrorism. It was one heck of a time to be alive, but generally, me and my little crew of friends kept our heads down and avoided trouble. That wasn't until one particular day when trouble found us instead. Every summer, on a large piece of parkland not far from where I was living, the local community threw a big summer fair, much like the big state fairs that go on in the US.

There was fairground rides, candy floss, hot dog stands, little novelty stalls like Guess My Weight, The Works. And in a city that was so hideously underfunded by regional and national governments, entertainment was pretty hard to come by. So these fair things were extremely popular with bored locals, including me and my mates. So we wander down Smithton Road towards this massive open green space that's been pretty much taken over by the traveling fair. Like I said, these things were really popular so I'm not exaggerating when I say there were literally thousands of people milling around, drinking and soaking up the rare British sunshine. At one point, we find ourselves at one of those stalls with fixed-air rifles you can use to shoot small paper targets.

Back then, and sort of now too, you had these rough, council-estate types who were only athletic gear, namely brightly-colored tracksuitsuits or as we called them, shell suits. We called them scalies, but any word like similar to thug would fit just as well. Anyway, as one of my mates steps up to do some shooting, so does one of these scaly types, intent on asserting his masculinity over the whole thing. Only, it turns out he's an awful shot and can barely hit the target, while my mate had already had a fair bit of practice as an army cadet, so he pretty much wipes the floor with his scaly lad. As you can imagine, the thuggish shell suit wearer doesn't

take this very well at all. As we're getting ready to move on, the scaly lad gets in my mate's face and starts being aggressive with him. My mate just laughs and waves him away, still buzzing from having trashed him at shooting pellets. I didn't catch what was said, but I figured when we walked away the whole thing was over. How wrong I was. About an hour or so later, the four of us are lounging around on the grass not too far from the throngs of people. We've been out and about all afternoon, and the baking heat, so we're pretty zonked by that point. All that booze we managed to sneak out of our parents' respective stashes didn't help either.

So let's just say our senses and perceptions are much slower than they normally would be. I remember how the mood changed dramatically in a matter of moments. One moment we're sitting there, the next we're noticing a large crowd of people making their way through the fairground, at least 100 strong. We observe with a kind of amused curiosity for a moment, wondering just why such a large crowd has sprung up, seemingly out of nowhere. Then we realized, as the crowd kind of shifts its movement, that the crowd of people, no, the gang of people, is headed towards us, with a scaly lad at the head of the pack. It was truly grim. One moment we're all chill, the next we're getting ready to run for our lives.

Only we can't run, we've managed to box ourselves into a corner of the parkland that's sealed off by big iron fencing. We're trapped. The scaly lad walks right up to my mate, who he'd had the little confrontation with, and shoves him to the ground. My mate, who wasn't scared of a fight but wasn't one to initiate one, immediately tries to spring back up to his feet, but the scaly lad aims a kick squarely at his face as he tries doing so. My mate falls back, blood leaking from between his lips completely knocked out from the sickening force of the kick. As horrible as all that sounds, it pales in comparison with the roar of approval it got from the scaly lads accompanying gang. They were loving every second of it, and since the fight seemed to be over so quickly, they weren't about to just walk away from their horrific entertainment. The three of us who weren't unconscious were just frozen on the spot.

I don't think I'd ever been so objectively terrified in my entire life. But then the scaly lad started kicking our downed friend around his head, at one point even trying to stomp on his throat. He was actually trying to end his life. And if it wasn't for the unfathomable kindness of strangers, I think he might have actually done it too. Once it was obvious what was happening, the three of us just reacted. I remember trying to shield our knocked out mate's body, taking a few punches from the gang as I did so, while another mate of ours just full on rugby tackled the scaly lad to the ground and began laying into him. I don't think he landed a single punch, he was just bloody flailing his limbs about

screaming in rage as the fear was overcome by pure adrenaline it wasn't long before we were all on the ground shielding our heads from the flurries of punches and kicks that came from a group of people that were now little more than animals but then, somehow the kicks and punches began to stop I looked up through one swollen eye to see a group of grown men and women barging their way into this insane cacophony of violence,

throwing people to the side and screaming for them to stop. They were soon joined by two patrolling policemen, who'd seen the activity and run over to break it up. It didn't really end there, though. Our mate, who'd taken the kick to the mouth, was still unconscious and nothing the police did could wake him up. We honestly thought that he was going to die. One of us dropped to their knees and begged him to wake up, saying he'd do anything, just please wake up. I remember his voice cracking as he spoke and I thought of our

mate's mom. How'd she react when she found out her boy had been kicked to death at a bloody fair? We didn't get any news until the next morning, when we found out he'd woken up with very little memory of what happened. He was okay in the end, but for a few weeks he just wasn't himself. He seemed overly clumsy and became incredibly shy, in stark contrast to the confident fellow he was beforehand. The scally lad ended up doing just less than a year in prison, having his sentence reduced dramatically because he'd had a difficult upbringing.

Nonsense, if you ask me. Now, a little footnote to end this with. In the early 90s when we were all grown up with full time jobs and kids in some instances, I met up with one of the guys who was there that day for a pint or two at a local pub. The Willow Bank if anyone knows it. As it turned out, the scally who went to prison had developed an addiction while he was inside. And whether it was through sharing needles or something else, he ended up coming positive for a certain disease,

and died alone in a hospice over in Manchester. I think the scariest thing of all is how, when I heard that news, I just took a swig of my pint, and found myself smiling. If it's a flat or a squeal, a wobble or peel, your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get it from our tread experts. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires.

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and trying to balance a relationship, family, and my well-being in the midst of all of it. I would recommend. Visit BetterHelp.com slash read. That's Better H-E-L-P. And join the over 1 million people who have taken charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. In fact, so many people have been using BetterHelp that they are recruiting additional counselors in all 50 states.

Now a special offer for Let's Read podcast listeners. Get 10% off your first month at betterhelp.com slash read. Back when I was much younger, my friends and I were into urban exploring before it was even really a thing. We grew up in a pretty rough area, with a lot of old apartment buildings that had to be abandoned and eventually demolished due to asbestos. That stuff made them basically fireproof, but where fire and smoke will kill you quick, asbestos will kill you slow. But try explaining that to a bunch of teenagers actively looking for somewhere to hide from grown-ups so they can do some distinctly grown-up things. Where other people saw a decrepit, dusty dump, we saw our own little corner of paradise. A home away from home, or maybe home is too strong of a word, but you get the idea. Anyway, there was one particular estate that was almost completely bereft of inhabitants,

having been gradually relocated by the city council until there must have been no more than two or three families left over. It was like an actual ghost town. Even the local corner shop had its shutters permanently down with a for sale sign quickly following its indefinite closure. But like I said, that kind of place was our bread and butter. So when they moved out, we moved in. There was this one set of high rise flats, that's apartments to you North Americans reading, that we used to visit on the regular. The heating and other utilities had been switched off for a while, and this was in the middle of winter, so we used to stash cans of cider in the old cupboards, and they'd basically act like walk-in fridges.

It got to the point that we ended up occupying one of the flats, bringing over an old nylon string guitar and other amenities so the place felt a bit more homely. So this one night, just after Christmas, about five of us pile into the old place to get drunk and have a sing-song. I remember that we were halfway through Bowie's Man Who Sold the World when the off-key twang of a string breaking had us all groaning with disappointment. What's more, it was the G-string. Take a moment to get all the broken G string jokes out of your system. Okay, you done? Good, on with the story. Anyone who knows anything about playing guitar will tell you that break a top or bottom string

and it's not the end of the world, but break your g-string and nothing quite sounds the same. So there we were, basically condemned to a silent disco for the night. But it didn't dampen our spirits entirely, so we committed to staying for a few hours to at least make the most of the evening. We're all just sitting around chatting bollocks and bumming smokes off of each other when one of us loudly hushes the rest before holding a single finger in the air as if to say listen. There's a brief silence and I do mean silence. No one heard a thing so the lad who'd shushed everyone just put it down to him hearing things. The mood softens again quickly and we're back to drinking and just giving each other hard time. Only a little while later the same lad does the same hushing thing. He's not alone this time though. Another one of us swore down that he too

had heard something. A scratching or shuffling noise coming from the dark corridor outside the flat. Have one lad with an attack of paranoia and you can take the energy out of him. Have two lads hear the same bloody thing, and you start to take things a bit more serious. One of us pokes their head out of the flat, shining the light of his phone's screen into the darkness, before turning back to tell us there was nothing there. These flats were half falling down. It was perfectly reasonable to expect them to creak and croak a fair bit. A few of us managed to relax again, but the two guys who'd heard the noises remained anxious,

shooting each other nervous looks in between scanning the flat's open doorway for movement. Cut to a few hours later, and it's coming up to midnight. Energy levels are dipping severely, and so are the noise levels. This meant the atmospherics were perfectly attuned for us to perfectly hear the creaking of floorboard just above our heads. This wasn't just the run-down condition of the building either. It was painfully obvious that the show and deliberate creak came from a football on the floor above us. Don't ask me how we knew that. Sometimes your gut just tells you everything you need to know about a certain sound or shape in the darkness. That's how the human race has survived for so long and so successfully, in my opinion. There really is such a thing as a sixth sense. As soon as we hear that creak, we all freeze. I mean,

proper statues still, barely even breathing, with all eyes glued to the ceiling. We start asking each other what that was, but we all knew someone or something was up there, and had been up there the entire time. I should add at this point we managed to compile a little collection of wooden sticks, iron bars, and other such debris that we told ourselves was our weapons stash. It was all just a bit of a joke to be honest. They were of purely totomic value. But in the moments that followed that horrible bloody creek, I thanked that which was holy that we'd had the

foresight to collect them. Each of us grabbed something to defend ourselves with before falling silent again, listening for any other creaking sounds above us. We weren't left waiting long. Another creak, then another, each one getting closer and closer to where the front entrance to the upstairs flat would be. We couldn't help but sit there, terrified, listening as whatever was up there got closer and closer to us. When the footsteps stopped, one of us plucked up the courage to creep towards the open front door of the flat and stick their head out. The next thing I know, we're just pouring down the stairs of the apartment block, with the lad who'd scouted the stairs shouting out how there's someone up there. We were scared,

maybe a little over-paranoid, but over the next few days, we started to question if we'd ever seen what we thought we had. I remember seeing the shape of something on the stairs above us, but I wasn't 100% sure it was a man, and neither was anyone else if we were honest with ourselves. In the end, I had convinced myself we'd imagine the whole thing and decided to run a little experiment. I left a loaf of bread in the lobby of the apartment block, intending to prove that there was no one living there when the loaf was still there, growing mold a few days later. But when I got back, it was gone. Years later, we watched the council demolish those flats as wrecking balls smashed into the brickwork and plastic window frames. We mourned our old hideaway, yes, but mostly we wondered if whoever was in there would be buried

in the rubble. On Friday the 12th of February 1993, a woman by the name of Denise Bolja took her son James to the New Strand Shopping Center in Bootle, a suburb of Liverpool in the UK. James was two years old at the time, just over a month away from his third birthday. So he was not quite old enough to be attending nursery school and therefore Denise would take James with her wherever she went. At around 3.40pm, whilst inside a small independent butcher's shop on the lower floor of the center, Denise, who had been temporarily distracted, realized that her son had disappeared. She looked around the immediate area, but it was no good.

James was nowhere to be found. Denise then approached the shopping center's security guards and waited as the staff began to wander the shopping center in the hope of finding James. However, on the day in question, two local ten-year-old boys were playing truant from school and had decided to visit the New Strand shopping center to partake in a little mischief. Robert Thompson and John Venables often ducked out of school together and the Newstrand was a favorite hangout of theirs, where they would casually shoplift and generally cause trouble for the security staff. Throughout the day, Thompson and Venables stole various items from businesses located in the Newstrand, including sweets, a troll doll, some batteries,

and a can of blue paint. But it seems the pair grew bored with shoplifting and had decided to up the ante. It was about then they came across James Bolger, who had wandered away from his mother Denise, who was occupied in the butcher's shop. The innocent two-year-old was exactly the kind of new toy the pair had been looking for and began to lead the boy by the hand away from the shopping center and his worried mother. The pair walk the young James to the nearby Leeds Liverpool Canal. It is here that one of the worst crimes in the history of the city began. It is not known if it was Venables or Thompson who decided to act first, but we know that James suffered his first injuries at the canal location

when one of the older boys picked up the toddler and dropped him on his head, causing grievous injuries to his face and cranium. The trio then began to walk almost five kilometers across the city of Liverpool, where perhaps some of the most haunting events of the crime took place. Nearly 40 witnesses later reported that they'd seen the two 10-year-olds with their two-year-old prisoner who was apparently crying his eyes out and did absolutely nothing. Only two people challenged the two boys on why they were leading the injured toddler around but were seemingly convinced by Venables and Thompson's claims that the boy was their little brother,

or that they were taking the lost and injured boy to a nearby police station. Given that, at the time, they were just minutes from an actual police station, it would have seemed that their story was genuine. But their claims of caring for the boy's welfare were far from true, and it is from here that the real nightmare begins. Eventually the boys arrived in the village of Walton and with Walton Lane police station across the road facing them, they hesitated and led James up a steep bank to a railway line near the disused Walton and Anfield railway station close to Anfield cemetery Here, they began to torture him. One of the boys threw some of the

blue modeling paint they'd previously stolen into young James' left eye. They kicked him, stamping on the boy's fragile body, before throwing bricks and stones at him. Batteries were placed in Bulger's mouth and, according to police, some batteries may have been inserted into his anus. Finally, the boys dropped a heavy iron bar, described in court as a railway fish plate, onto the young James. He sustained 10 skull fractures as a result of the bar striking his head. The case's pathologist later stated that Bulger suffered a total of 42 injuries as a result of the assault, so many that it was impossible for him to determine which one had been the fatal blow. Thompson and Venables then laid the dying child across the railway tracks and weighted his head down with rubble in hopes that a train would hit him and make his death appear to be purely

accidental. After they left the scene, his body was cut in half by a train. Bolger's severed body was discovered two days later on Valentine's Day. The same forensic pathologist testified that he had died before he was struck by the train. Police suspected that there was a carnal element to the crime since Bolger's shoes, socks, trousers, and underpants had been removed. The pathologist's report, which was read out in court, found that Bulger's foreskin had been forcibly retracted. When Thompson and Venables were questioned about this aspect of the attack by detectives and a child psychiatrist, Eileen Vizard, the pair were reluctant to give details and also denied inserting some of the batteries into Bulger's anus. At his eventual parole, venable psychiatrist Susan Bailey reported that

visiting and revisiting the issues with John as a child and now as an adolescent, he gives no count of any carnal element to the offense. The police quickly found low-resolution video images of Bulger's abduction from the New Strand Shopping Center by two unidentified boys. The railway embankment upon which his body had been discovered was adorned with hundreds of bunches of flowers. The family of one boy, who was detained for questioning but subsequently released, had to flee the city due to threats by vigilantes. The breakthrough came when a woman, on seeing slightly enhanced images of the two boys on national television, recognized Venables, who she knew had played truant with Thompson that day. She contacted police and the boys were arrested. The fact that the suspects were so young came as a shock to

investigating officers. Early press reports and police statements had referred to James Bolger being seen with two youths, which suggesting the killers were in fact teenagers. This was down to the ages of the boys being difficult to ascertain from the images captured by CCTV, but also because it was frankly unbelievable that such brutal action could be committed by those who were themselves children. Forensic tests confirmed that both boys had the same blue paint on their clothing as found on Bulger's body. Both had blood on their footwear, with the blood on Thompson's shoe being matched to Bulger's through DNA tests. A pattern of bruising on Bulger's right cheek matched the features of the upper part of a

shoe worn by Thompson. A paint mark in the toe cap of one of Venable's shoes indicated he must have used some force when he kicked Bulger. In a haunting police interview, Thompson is said to have asked police whether the two-year-old had been taken to the hospital to get him alive again. The boys were each charged with the murder of James Bolger on the 20th of February 1993, and appeared at South Sefton Youth Court just two days later, where they were remanded in custody to await trial. In the aftermath of their arrest, and throughout the media accounts of their trial, the boys were referred to only as Child A and Child B. Awaiting trial,

they were held in the secure units where they would eventually be sentenced to be detained indefinitely. The boys by then, aged 11, were found guilty of Bulger's murder at the Preston Court on the 24th of November 1993, becoming the youngest convicted murderers of the 20th century. The residing judge told Thompson and Venables that they had committed a crime of unparalleled evil and barbitury, and my judgment, your conduct was both cunning and very wicked. He sentenced them to be detained at Her Majesty's pleasure with a recommendation that they should be kept in custody for very, very many years to come, recommending a minimum term of eight years. At the close of the trial, the judge lifted reporting restrictions and allowed the names of the killers to be released, saying,

I did this because the public interest overrode the interest of the defendants. There was a need for an informed public debate on crimes committed by young children. At about 8.15 a.m. on the morning of Wednesday the 13th of March 1996, Thomas Hamilton, a 43-year-old former shopkeeper from Glasgow, was seen scraping ice off his van outside his home at Kent Road in Stirling. He departed shortly afterwards, driving about five miles north to the south town of Dunblane. Hamilton arrived at Dunblane Primary School at around 9.30 that morning and parked his van near a telephone pole in the car park of the school. Hamilton then cut the cables at the bottom of the telephone pole, severing communications to several nearby houses before making his way across the car park towards the school buildings. Hamilton had intended to cut the phone lines to

the school itself, but had selected the wrong telegraph pole. He then headed towards the northwest side of the school to a door leading to the toilets in the school gymnasium. After entering, he made his way to the gymnasium. In the gym was a class of 28 seven and eight year old pupils preparing for a PE lesson, being supervised by three adult members of staff. Before Hamilton entered the gym, the staff heard two loud bangs coming from the hallway outside. Then, after entering the gymnasium, and as he was about to be confronted by Eileen Harold, the PE teacher in charge of the lesson. He started shooting

rapidly and randomly, armed with four legally held handguns, two 9mm Browning HP pistols, and two Smith & Wesson M19.357 Magnum revolvers. He was also carrying 743 rounds of ammunition. He shot one of the supervising teachers who received wounds to their arms and chest as she attempted to protect herself and continued shooting into the gymnasium. The wounded teacher then stumbled into the open plan store cupboard at the side of the gym along with several injured children. Gwen Mayer, the class's teacher, was shot through the heart and died instantly. The other adult present was shot through the heart and died instantly. The other adult present was shot in the head and both legs,

but also managed to make her way to the store cupboard with several of the children in front of her. In the time it took to reach the gymnasium and take a few steps inside, Hamilton had fired 29 shots with the pistols, killing one child and injuring several others. Four injured children had taken shelter in the store cupboard along with the injured teachers, Harold and Blake. Hamilton then made his way up the east side of the gym, firing as he walked. He then walked towards the center of the gym, firing 16 shots at point-blank range towards a group of terrified children who had been incapacitated by the bullets he had previously fired. An older pupil who was walking along the west side of the gym building at the time heard loud bangs and screams and looked inside the gym. Hamilton shot

in his direction and the pupil was injured by flying glass before running away. From this position, Hamilton fired 24 shots in seemingly random directions. He fired shots towards a window next to the fire exit at the southeast end of the gym, possibly at an adult who was walking across the playground, and then fired four more shots in the same direction after opening the fire exit door. Hamilton then exited the gym briefly through the fire exit, firing another four shots towards the gym briefly through the fire exit, firing another four shots towards the cloakroom of the library, striking and injuring Grace Tweddle, another member of the staff of the school. In the mobile classroom closet to the fire exit where Hamilton was standing, Catherine Gordon saw him firing shots and instructed her class to get down onto

the floor before Hamilton fired nine bullets into the classroom, striking books and equipment. One bullet passed through a chair where a child had been sitting seconds before. Hamilton then re-entered the gym, dropped the pistol he was using, and took out one of the two revolvers he was packing. He put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, pointed it upwards, and pulled the trigger. A total of 32 people sustained gunshot wounds inflicted by Hamilton over a four-minute period, 16 of whom were fatally wounded in the gymnasium, which included Mayer and 15 of her pupils. The first call to the police was made at 9.41am. The call was made by the headmaster of

the school, Ronald Taylor, who had been alerted by a colleague of the possibility of a gunman on the school premises. Taylor had also heard screaming inside the gymnasium and had seen what he thought to be cartridges on the ground. Taylor had been aware of loud noises which he assumed to have been from builders on site that he had not been informed of. As he was on his way to the gym the shooting ended and when he saw what happened he ran back to his office and told the deputy headmistress to call for ambulances, a second emergency call which was made at 9 43 a.m. The first ambulance arrived on the scene just 14 minutes later. Just another medical team from Dunblane Health Center arrived shortly after, which included doctors and a nurse who were involved in the initial resuscitation of the injured. The accident and emergency department

at Sterling Royal Infirmary had also been informed of a major incident involving multiple casualties at 9.48am, and they had dispatched ambulance crews from several nearby areas to help all the wounded. By about 11.10am, all of the injured had been taken to Sterling Royal Infirmary for medical treatment, with one child dying en route to the hospital. Upon examination, several of the patients were transferred to the District Royal Infirmary in Falkirk and some of the Royal Hospital for Sick Children in Glasgow. As it turned out, there had been several complaints to police regarding Hamilton's behavior towards the young boys who attended the youth clubs he was discovered to have ran.

Claims had been made of his having taken photographs of semi-nude boys without parental consent. Hamilton had briefly been a scout leader, but as previously stated, complaints were made about his leadership, including two occasions when scouts were forced to sleep with Hamilton in his van during hill-walking expeditions. Within months of his appointment, Hamilton's scout warrant was withdrawn with the county commissioner stating that he was suspicious of his moral intentions towards boys he was blacklisted by the association and thwarted in a later attempt he made to become a scout leader in another scottish constituency hamilton claimed in letters that rumors about him led to the failure of his

shop business in 1993. In the last months of his life, he complained again that his attempts to organize a boys club were subjugated to persecution by local police and the scout movement. Among those he complained to were a local member of parliament, but also, shockingly enough, to Queen Elizabeth. In the 1980s, another MP who lived in Dunblane had complained about Hamilton's local boys club, which his son had attended. On the day following the massacre, Robertson spoke of having previously argued with Hamilton in his own home. No doubt he felt he'd had a lucky escape with a deranged and violent psychopath. On the 19th of March, 1996, a mere six days after the brutal, horrifying massacre, Hamilton's body was cremated. According to police spokesmen, this service was conducted far away from Dunblane. Your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel. Wherever you go, you can get a pro at Tread Experts.

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One night during a bad winter where it was constantly raining and had strong winds, I hear boxes being moved in the attic. I freak out and lay awake the whole night, listening to those weird sounds coming from the attic. In the morning I confronted my parents asking if it was them. They both denied it and have no reason to go into the attic. They only go into it around Christmas time because that's where we store the tree, Christmas decorations and stuff we don't use but don't want to throw away. I told them I heard noises and both of them brushed me off and claimed I was just hearing things. The next night I heard the sounds again and the next night and the night after that. For the whole week I told my friends at school and they said someone must be in my attic. I told them it was impossible. The only way into my attic is by grabbing the ladder from the shed in the

garden, coming into the house and next to the laundry which was next to my room, there's a hole, like a proper hole, sorry I'm not exactly sure how to describe it, with a panel covering it and that's how you actually get into the attic. After that week, when the weather cleared up and I didn't hear any more noises coming from the attic I simply forgot about it until I forgot my key one day. I called my dad who was at work and asked him if there was a spare key hidden somewhere that I could use to get in. He told me there is a way of getting into the attic via the roof. He told me about a large panel on the roof that could be removed and you could get into the attic. It's also quite easy to get onto the roof and my younger brother has done this many a times with ease to rescue our cat or balls that have ended up there. My blood went cold. Someone could have gotten into the attic. Someone could have been in there for a week and then a dark thought crossed my mind. What if he's still there? I got out of there and walked around the

neighborhood for three hours instead while waiting for my dad to come home. When he did, I told him again about that week that I heard noises in the attic and how he could have gotten in and again he brushed me off. The next few years were filled with the occasional horror moments. I have two glass doors in my room that face the backyard and we have lights and motion sensors in the garden. One night while I was sleeping my dog was asleep next to me and my back to the glass doors. My room was suddenly flooded with light.

Someone or something was in the garden. I didn't think much of it, perhaps a stray cat, I thought. Then is when my dog started growling. He's a very sweet and timid dog that are kitten bullies, and I froze. I had never heard him growl before, and that's when I heard a tapping on the glass door. I wanted to cry. I was terrified if whoever was tapping on the glass wanted in, the glass wasn't going to stop him. The tapping continued for a few minutes. I lay

still, pretending to be asleep. Then I heard the doorknob being tested and then my dog started barking, really deep and menacing. Whoever was there had fled once he heard the dog. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night, scared he was going to come back. In the morning my dad yelled at me due to the dog barking and waking him up. I cried and told him about what had happened and I swear, once again, he brushes me off. Now another time when we changed the locks because my brother had lost his wallet with his keys in them and our address was in his wallet. It later was found in our mom's house but my dad gave me a new key for the front door. I put it on my bed and went shopping with my dad and brother. When I came back it was gone. I searched everywhere it never turned up and I ended up taking the spare key my

dad had hidden in the garden and pretending it was my main. He would later put another key in the garden which was hidden under my dog's bed and this is important for later. Other things have happened but I think I've given enough backstory and this was about two months ago. So my dad travels for work sometimes and when he does my brother stays with our mom and I look after the house and the animals. My dad had been gone for five days when this happened. I had left the main computer on and it was just on the google home page. I went to bed and woke up two hours later and my stomach was killing me. I rushed to the bathroom and threw up.

Now I had made a bit of a mess so I went to the kitchen. I have an open plan kitchen so it also has a dining room and a small living room and this big room, the main computer room is also in this room. Now I grabbed a mop and a bucket and that's when I saw the computer screen on. Not dark like when you don't touch your computer for a while and the screen goes black. Curious. I went over to look at it and saw it was on YouTube on a random music search page with the music typed into the search bar. I was incredibly freaked out. I clicked back and it went on a few different music things before going on a website of a university my brother was considering going to and I had taken him to the opening day only a few weeks ago and then I clicked back again and it went on my email. I leave it logged in and then it

went to my university home page. I was beyond freaked out. All I could think was someone was in my house. They had used my computer and gone searching for all this stuff. But why? I quickly grabbed a knife and headed to the main living room which is next to the front door. I called my best friend who lived about a 30 minute drive away and she told me she was coming to pick me up. I searched the living room while on the phone with her and I told her if I screamed to call the police. After making sure the living room was safe I paced waiting for her. My cats were freaked out and were hiding, something they never do. When she arrived we searched my house. I was violently kicking doors, opening and yelling

if someone was in the house that I would stab them. There was no one inside the house. I was still freaked out and my best friend told me I'd be spending the night with her at her house. I felt bad leaving my animals but I couldn't bring them due to having heard dogs that didn't like cats and could be aggressive with my dog at times. As we were leaving, a thought hit me. What if the person was in the attic? My best friend told me no way we were searching the attic and she grabbed me. I didn't call the police and my dad arrived home the next day. I told him what happened last night and he had laughed at me and once again brushed me off. I do believe there

is or at least was someone living in my attic. I'm very scared to be left home alone overnight and I'll update if anything else happens as I do plan on moving out next year. The Summer I Traveled Alone to Colombia I stayed with a host family in Cartagena and met a girl from Brazil named Maria who was also staying there. Maria and I quickly became friends and started doing as many touristy activities as we could during the day and partying all night. One afternoon we were researching day trips for the weekend when we came across the island of San Andreas. We immediately fell in love with its beauty and booked a trip there for Saturday. When we got to San Andreas everything was great. We swam in the ocean, ate great food and had an amazing time with the other people in our hostel. While we were exploring the town, we got sucked in by a touring agency and

spent all of our money booking tours like parasailing, boating out to the smaller islands, etc. One of the activities we decided to try was scuba diving, despite neither of us having a license. The tour agency said it would be fine because we wouldn't go very deep and a licensed professional would be with us the whole time. So we spoke up early the next morning and got picked up in a van with a driver, a scuba instructor, and a family from Spain. The driver took us to a secluded spot on the island. Now, this was a small island, like super hard to avoid people, but this spot didn't even have any locals. The whole time we were there, maybe three cars drove past.

Anyway, the instructor, Jose, gave us directions and safety tips in three different languages, and then took the family to dive while Maria and I waited for our turn. After they left, Maria turned to me and started telling me that she didn't trust Jose. She told me that while they were speaking in Portuguese, he'd made strange comments about our swimsuits. We were both wearing bikinis and were both young and, I suppose, fairly attractive women, and when she told him that neither of us had boyfriends, he was very insistent that Maria and I must be a couple then. I shrugged it off as a cultural thing and told her it would be fine. Our turn to dive finally rolled around and we hopped in the water with him.

Immediately I realized this was more of an intermediate than beginner dive, but it didn't really bother me. I was excited to see the coral and fish. I could tell it made Maria nervous though because she wasn't exactly a strong swimmer anyway and Jose was putting her on edge. At first it was fun. We were swimming and Jose was taking pictures for us on his GoPro. But then he started grabbing us strangely, touching our breasts and making it seem like it was an accident. Again, I didn't really think anything of it because we were underwater and it was his job to make sure we stayed close to him, but it was enough to freak Maria out and end her dive. Maria got out of the water and I was having a fantastic time and didn't really want to leave just yet, so I stayed with

Jose, just the two of us. He took me to a different spot on the reef and we ended up swimming past all the coral into the open ocean. I was really curious on what I would see. At this point we were probably about 80 feet or 24 meters deep, which is just ridiculous for someone without a diving license. We'd gotten pretty good at non-verbal communication at this point and it was like I could read his mind. He took some pictures of me with the GoPro in the open water and I was excited to show my friends what a daredevil I was. After a while I started to get tired and decided to head back and that's when he grabbed me. He started gesturing to me and from what I understood he was not going to let me leave until I kissed him.

Now, Jose was probably around 40 and I was 18 at the time plus I had a boyfriend that Maria didn't know about but honestly I really don't need to justify why kissing a complete stranger underwater would gross me out. It was just weird but I was starting to get this gut feeling that I should go with what he told me so I laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek which he not so sneakily photographed. He looked me in the eyes and shook his head no. I could tell he was starting to get agitated. He took my air away until I kissed him on the mouth and repeatedly did this until we got everything he wanted, photographing it all. My gut was screaming that the only way this would end was by me being drowned, so I improvised. I pretended to be into it for a while, and then I looked behind him and got the widest eyes.

The goal was to make him think I saw a shark or jellyfish. It worked. He turned around, and I swam away as fast as I could. Eventually I got to the surface and popped my head up. To my absolute horror we were super far away from shore. Jose surfaced next to me and in a kind of irritated voice asked me what I saw and insisted it was safe to go back down if I wanted to finish the dive. By some miracle Maria saw us and started waving. I waved back at her and started swimming that way. I guess Jose knew his plan was messed up once Maria saw me alive. He sighed and headed back with me. On the drive back I was super quiet and Maria knew something was wrong. I typed out everything that happened and showed it to her and she was furious. We ended up buying the pictures Jose took on the GoPro to

try and use them as evidence but he only sent us the ones from earlier on in the dive. Honestly it makes me sick thinking of the stuff that he probably uses them for. We tried to contact the police but they didn't care. Jose is still out there and I hope whoever dives with him is smarter than I was. So to start out I've been homeschooled for the majority of my life and because of that, I didn't have many friends. Finally, when I went to college, I was able to meet so many new people and I would soon learn that not all of them were as friendly as I had thought.

In my first semester, I was enrolled in a college algebra class. I had never enjoyed math a day in my life but it was something I was accursely good at. One day when I was studying for a test a guy from my class, let's call him Harley, came running around the corner skidding to a stop in front of my table as he slammed his books down on it. I had always recognized him as the loud charismatic guy who sat a couple of seats behind me. He frantically asked if I knew what I was doing in the class and I didn't want to be rude so I let him sit with me while I showed him how to do certain equations. When I had finished showing him how to do the work he thanked me and admitted he really didn't know what was happening in the class and that he was currently

getting an F. I offered to tutor him after class because I had free time and he happily accepted. This was the new normal for a few weeks and we developed a good friendship. We would often get distracted on topics we enjoyed and we even found out that we both like the same video games and TV shows. Gradually we spent more time together and I even introduced Harley to my friend group in my club. My friends were initially a bit wary of him as he had a rather boisterous personality but they decided not to say anything because he was a friend. Eventually he asked me out on a date and I said yes.

I wasn't really that interested in him but I had also never been on a date before and figured that the date would help me figure out if I could truly like him. That's when things started to get a little weird. He told everyone about the date, my friends, the club and even people in his classes that didn't even know me and almost felt like he was putting a claim on me. Then the night before the date Harley facetimed me and asked if I would ever consider going out with another guy we both knew. I admitted that I would and he threw a big fit saying how he felt worthless like I was playing him. He continued to spout insults at me to the point where I started crying and then he eventually called off the date. I was left crying on the bathroom floor for the

rest of the night feeling overwhelming guilt. The next day I woke up and discovered a text from him asking if we could talk. I called him and he was already in a good mood saying that we should put the date back on. I wasn't really sure about it but he convinced me we would only be going as friends and that I didn't really need to like him for it to work out. The date eventually came and while it was a fun day I just felt like I had no interest in him so I ultimately rejected his affections. He didn't seem too upset and happily said that he'd always wait for me and that he was persistent. More weird occurrences started happening after that.

Harley would do something like incessantly start poking me while I was trying to study. He would jab me in the ribs and tell me all sorts of terrible things as I was winning it in a friendly argument. He would call me degrading names like woman and slave and he would yank my hair in public to show off to everyone because I had told him how it never really hurt that much. He would often do this in public settings, causing my friends to give him confused and disgusted glares. He even started pulling my hair when I was trying to order at Starbucks, with the barista trying not to laugh the whole time. I felt so embarrassed that I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Harley also put screenshots of me crying over FaceTime as his lock screen and home screen and when I would ask him to change it he explained that I looked pretty when I cried. Because of this I would always avoid FaceTiming him. My friends and club members continuously warned me about Harley saying how they didn't like him and that he gave off weird vibes but i would often deny it saying that it's just part of his personality he tried to make an effort to hang out with me more a notion i wouldn't mind from one of my other friends but he honestly was starting to creep me out i explained that i like being in groups more than just one-on-one for the sake of holding a conversation. Really, I just felt uncomfortable being alone with him. Harley

agreed that we should both invite friends, but many of mine were never available except on rare occasions, and his all seemed to oddly back out last minute. He would then try to make me pick sides, creating hypothetical scenarios where i either had to choose him or my other friends of course i never chose him because i had really only known him for a couple of months and would always make him very upset because i was supposed to be his bestie after all i was his his ex eventually started texting me harassing me about him. She told me to run away as fast as I could because he was crazy and when I explained that he was my friend she called me naive and would get really upset. Even though I never wanted to text her I always dreaded it.

I couldn't find it in myself not to respond to her when she texted me late at night. After all she said she was in a dangerous business and that she could die any day and that our texts were her only chance to live normally. One night I got a text from her saying she had been busted and that there was no way she was going to live through it. She said she was crying and that her final wish was to make Harley happy in her place because she couldn't. I never received another text and I spent the entire night crying and trying to figure out how to cope with the fact that someone told me about their death. I eventually told Harley about it and so he started saving up money to go to Egypt, that's where she was from, to go and find

her to make sure she was okay. He then started using this to guilt trip me. If he wanted us to hang out together or do something I didn't want to do he would tell me that he was going off to Egypt and that it's dangerous so he might die and never get to do anything else. Most of the time I would give in but the times I didn't we would get into heated arguments. He always wanted to pay for my food and when I refused because he would always use it against me as a, but remember when I paid for your food that one time, card? He would start arguing with me in front of the cashier and would wrestle with me for the man to take his credit card instead of mine. It got to the point where

we would have heated arguments once a month that would cause me to shut down for a couple of days, moping until I had the courage to approach him again and apologize for everything I had done. It was always my fault and I would keep running back to him. The final straw came sometime in May of my second semester. I had been working on an art piece for over a month and had accidentally deleted it without backing it up. I was so depressed and posted about it to which he replied with a laughing face saying how that was pretty funny. When I didn't respond he asked if I was okay and that he was going to call me. I didn't pick up. I didn't feel like talking to him and I knew that if I did I would just explode in his face and nothing productive would happen.

When I didn't pick up the second time he started texting me telling me to pick up. I said that I wasn't in the mood and asked him to respect my opinion and boundaries. He responded by saying I don't have to obey you and then called me three more times. The next day I was still in a bad mood and I could tell that Harley was too. We were sitting in the cafeteria eating in silence as he asked me why I didn't pick up the phone. I was about to explain how upset I was when I saw one of my friends from across the cafeteria. I felt so relieved and stood up to greet them when he suddenly grabbed my arm. He looked me straight in the eyes and said that he was warning me not to say hello to them and that I would regret it later. I think that was the first time I was really scared of him but

I didn't let it faze me. I simply pulled my arm out and said straight to his face, I don't have to obey you. He was in a terrible mood the rest of the day. That night I got a text from him asking if he did something that was bothering me I responded by telling him how much of a jerk he had been acting and that I didn't want him to touch me anymore whether it was jabbing me or pulling my hair or tell me to stay away from my friends his only response was well that is an excuse for you to act like that and then exploded onto me calling me bossy as well as a plethora of other insults. I decided to close my phone and not use it for the rest of the night as my temper was boiling. In the morning I pulled my two real best friends aside and explained the situation to them as I burst into tears. They comforted me before giving me an awkward look, stating that they wanted to

tell me something that they promised they wouldn't reveal unless I had ever given them cause for concern. They then admitted that Harley had been texting them, telling them not to come to events I invited them to, and then instructing them to do it in a way that was last minute so I wouldn't have time to tell anyone else. They then said that whenever I had left the room, Harley would go on and on about how he was my best friend and how we would always spend time together when in actuality we didn't. I came home and had to talk with my parents about the situation. My dad was furious and said that he wouldn't even treat a dog the way Harley had treated me. He then said that he wouldn't even treat a dog the way harley had treated me he then said that he didn't want me anywhere near him which i completely agreed with and that if i

needed to make up an excuse as to why i couldn't drive harley anymore to say that both he and my mom won't allow us to be in the same car anymore i then broke the news to harley saying how i felt tormented by him and that i never wanted to see him again. I told him not to call or text me anymore and that I was breaking our friendship here and now. He begged me to give him one more chance but was done with it and I blocked him on Instagram. I wish I could say that that was the end of it, but then it really started to get creepy. I woke up the next morning to see over 15 missed calls and a message explaining that we were friends and that I would call him back if I ever considered him one. I blocked his number. He approached me and my

friend in the cafeteria handing me a ball of crumpled up papers that was an apology note with the first page being a list of I'm sorry and I promise. I didn't want to hear any of it so we both left immediately. I had a friend escort me to every class because I was terrified he would try to approach me and plead with me or that something worse might happen. I cancelled a night class we had together as I was terrified that it was located near an empty field undergoing construction with a narrow alleyway being the only way to get to my car. I was even advised to get the campus police involved in case an incident did occur. I never did as I was afraid to get Harley in trouble or for me to seem like I was weak or overreacting. Once he realized he

couldn't get a hold of me he started contacting contacting my friends, telling them to change my mind. He also asked for my parents' contact information as he also wanted to speak with them. He even contacted my small group leader from the church. Thankfully, most of them blocked him immediately. I told my club president that I wasn't going to come for the next few weeks because I knew Harley would be there. I explained that it was a personal issue as I wanted to reduce the number of people who knew about the incident so it didn't explode but Harley had other plans. Unlike me he did go to the club that week and had a full blown meltdown. It was so bad that the president wanted to have a personal meeting with me. I was terrified at the thought of having to explain the situation.

I was afraid I would get blamed for it all but as soon as we met he started off by explaining that he knew that Harley was in the wrong and wanted to discuss what should be done about him. Nothing official was announced but it was suggested that Harley should leave the club until he could find some help and a counselor. Harley then began contacting me through other accounts. He used his little brother's account to try and convince me to become his friend again. He contacted me through an account where he called himself Nolan and even his ex apparently sent me a few texts. He'd apparently bailed her out of jail. She wasn't dead and so I once again had to hear her yell at me for being stupid and how I should

be grateful to Harley and that he even wrote a song about me. I eventually lost it and told her to stop contacting me. He then started contacting club members, ranting to them until late at night about how I was the one manipulating him and being bossy towards him and only used him for money. They would then in turn call me and I had to explain my side of the story to them. They said that he had even told him that he knew deep down that I still wanted to be friends with him and that I was just playing hard to get. Harley then would make random appearances at the club, trying to start friendly conversations with people who no longer wanted to talk to him

after hearing both sides of the situation. Oftentimes it would end in him being ignored but that only led him to coming to the club just to stand on the opposite side of the table from me staring at me for 15 minutes at a time before taking his leave. Sometimes he would come back claiming he left his backpack in the room. One of the club members even said Harley tried to look under the stalls in the restrooms to find someone he recognized to help him get back into the club. Eventually, the president had to have a stern talk with him and strongly suggest that he would not be welcome if he ever came back. It was at that point that everything seemed to die down. He stopped trying to contact my friends, he stopped using alternate accounts, and I barely saw him on campus.

Although there was a lot of stress involved in this situation, it did teach me a valuable lesson of not trusting everyone I met, and I should be more aware when there are signs of possessiveness and manipulation. My message to anyone who finished reading this would be to not be afraid to ask for help when you feel like you're in a bad situation. If my friends and family weren't there for me, who knows what could have happened. I used to talk to a guy online that was kind of shady, but that's why I liked him. He would share his messed up fantasies with me and tell me I'm pretty, everything a girl needs, right? Well, the fantasies escalated over time to involve me in them.

They went from meeting up for dates to getting married so I could have as many babies as possible with him, to him kidnapping me and keeping me in a bunker. I kept talking with him through it all. We had been in touch for nearly eight years and I liked that he was scary but across the country. Those fantasies weren't the only things we talked about so it was easy to move past them. A few months ago he found out that I was diagnosed with major depression. He was trying to figure out how I could improve my mental health if I suddenly went off my medication. He stopped when I told him that I hadn't thought about ending my own life in a while because I was finally getting treatment. He was sad that I hadn't told him that

I was that way in the first place. Over the holidays, I had my first really bad spiral in six months. I won't go into details to save on time, but the super short reason is that I miss my family. I went quiet online for about a week to wallow in my abyss, then pull myself out. When I finally re-emerged, worse for wear and still sad but not considering the pros and cons of dying, I found a lot of messages from this guy telling me not to end my own life but to let him do it for me. He said I'd enjoy myself, he could use me up until the very end, and I could be his ghost bride in the afterlife. He also sent a lot of gifs of pictures of brutal, hardcore stuff, most of which involved a crying woman being choked by a belt. I told him that I really didn't desire any of that, and he said, Okay, then let's not do that.

Then he proceeded talking like he didn't offer up an extremely painful death because he knew I got the big sad sometimes. That was kind of the last straw for me. I never intended to meet him, but I draw the line at murder fantasies. That's the closest I've ever gotten to know someone who had a plan to do those kinds of things to me. I haven't had many paranormal experiences in my 30 years of life, three that I can think of. This particular experience happened to me when I was 13 or 14. One Friday night I was at my aunt and uncle's house watching my two cousins who were about 9 and 6. My uncle was in a band at the time and was at a point where almost every weekend they were playing shows

so it wasn't unusual for me to babysit their kids one night out of almost every weekend. This weekend my uncle had a gig in Los Angeles about 2 and a half hours from where we lived and my aunt left around 6pm that night and wouldn't be back until well after 4am. I fed the kids, made sure they were bathed and ready for bed and we settled down together watching TV for a couple of hours. At 10.13pm I tucked them into bed as the eldest was nodding off and her younger sister was already asleep. I remember the time exactly because I looked at the clock above the TV to check the time when I saw my younger cousin

was asleep. After I put them to bed, I resumed watching TV by myself. It was a few minutes after I had sat down that I heard my aunt's voice. She said my name, name softly the sound came from behind me in the den area i muted the tv before i turned around and saw my aunt sitting on the top step of the den three steps led you down into the den from the dining room which was directly behind where i sat on the couch in the living room she was only about 75 feet or so away from me. Somehow I wasn't scared but I was confused. I knew she wasn't due to come home yet and I hadn't seen or heard her or my uncle arrive at the house. Where I was sitting I had a clear view of the front door but I thought maybe she had come home while I was busy tucking the kids in bed. I looked at the front door and it was locked from the inside, just as

I locked it when I bid my aunt and uncle goodbye earlier that evening. All of this happened in the matter of a few seconds. She had seen me look at her, we met eyes, and she was as real and clear as I was. She said my name again and told me it was time to go to bed since it was late. This time I protested. I was and still am a night owl and in my early teen years I often wouldn't go to bed until 1 or 2 a.m. most Friday and Saturday nights. It's not late it's only... I turned away from her back toward the TV and checked the time again. It was 1028. It's only 1030. I finished. As I said the time, I turned my head again to look at her. She was completely gone. Vanished into thin air. I froze, all my hair standing on end. What? Where did she go? I wondered. I called her name and got no response. I blinked rapidly, wondering if this

was a dream, trying to wake myself up. I told this story to a handful of people and they all conjectured that maybe I had been asleep. While I have no way to prove to them I was wide awake at the time this happened, I know with absolute certainty I was awake. I turned off the TV but left the light on in the living room. No way was I shutting the light off and ran into my eldest cousin's room, cowered under the covers and waited for my aunt and uncle to get home. I didn't fall asleep until I heard them come through the front door many hours later. I didn't mention my experience to my aunt and uncle or even my cousins until many years later. They'd never had any strange experiences in the home and they told me I

must have been dreaming. I've had no history of delusions or mental illness. I know I didn't dream up seeing my aunt clear as day in the home and speaking to me when she wasn't there. I don't know what or who I saw that night, but it spooked me. I never did see that woman or thing again. My name is Brandy. I'm 56 and I live in Washington. All these years my kids wanted me to write down events that happened to myself and my family. Quite a few members of my family have passed away so I didn't want these experiences to die with them. So for my children here it goes. A lot of messed up supernatural things have happened to me and my family in my lifetime,

most with witnesses, and this is one of them. About 25 years ago, while house hunting for a rental, I met the former renter of this run-down but livable house. She warned me not to rent this house because I have small children, and not only was it run-down, it was very haunted. And never, she was stern, never let a man live here with you. He will be taken over by the evil that lives here. Now I'm thinking she is crazy or she was just mad at the landlord for something.

We needed a home desperately. I was thinking that I have lived through worse, so I blew it off. I ended up renting the house and realizing I should have heeded her warning. The whole house was old and made of wood. The walls, the doors, the ceiling, all wood and there were French doors all along the front of the house. The main living space was long and open. The living room and dining area was all one room and it was always cold. It was located in the high desert of California, on the corner of an acre lot of

barren desert and across the street was a grocery store and a few small shops too far for anyone to hear us. It served as a town hall back in the day and I think a turkey ranch before that. It was 6am and there was a three day trip to Disneyland planned. My kids, Michael age 1, Penny age 4 and Ginny age 3 were all sleeping on my bed in my bedroom at the other end of the house so I could pack up for the trip in the dining room and not wake them but I could see the bedroom door and it was closed. I was standing up folding clothes for the trip at the dining table. My mother-in-law, Opal, was sitting across from me when we heard the bedroom

door creak open slightly. We both looked up and it was my daughter, Ginny, in her little pink and white flowered onesie. I said, Ginny, now you know it's too early. Go back to bed. And she said, Me up now, Mommy. And her little sweet voice. They made us both chuckle and I said to Opal, She's just excited. No, baby, we're not going now. Please go back to bed. She stomped her foot, which we could feel vibrate through the floorboards.

My mother-in-law said, you better go put her back to bed and I agreed. As I'm making that long walk towards her, I am keeping eye contact. As I'm walking I say, no baby and once again she stomps her foot, smiles and says, me up. With the sweetest smile she tilts her head. Opal even muttered ah. It didn't dawn on me at the time how perfect her little pigtails were. At this point I am extending my hands towards her but that smile though, I got about six inches from touching her and she turns black and disappeared almost like sand falling to the ground and the door quickly closing behind her. My mother-in-law let out a surprised response and I was in shock. I stood there with my hands still extended and then the fear came all over my body like hot and cold needles. My kids were sleeping behind that door. I grabbed the handle and swung open the door fearing for the worst only to find my little Jenny fast asleep with her sister's leg over her. It couldn't have been her. We went on our trip but when we came home we were met with all of

the lights on and old music playing loud. People were standing around, two separate groups like two different periods of time. I turned to my husband and asked if he left the door unlocked and the lights on and he said no. We all got out of the car and cautiously approached the front door. As I got closer I could see a couch, not where our couch was, with a man in a white tank top sitting there. He was dirty and he was looking at this boy standing in the corner with such hatred. You could tell the boy was abused by the way he was standing there with his head down. That's when he looked up at me and it pierced my soul even now thinking about him. The kids were scared and the dog was growling. I grabbed the doorknob to put my key in.

At that point the music stopped and the lights went out. We opened the door and nothing. Nothing had been moved and no one was there. I couldn't get the image of that sad looking little boy I saw standing there out of my mind and it was a while before I saw him again. It was a nice day. The kids and I were out grocery shopping, having a good time. I usually keep the living room light on when I knew we were going to get home after dark. I didn't realize we would be gone that long. It was just starting to be dusk. I pulled into the gate, and I think the kids were a little too rambunctious.

I sat for a moment, planning my attack while getting all these groceries, a sleeping baby and the two girls up the steps and into the house when I noticed movement in the living room. No one was home. I could hardly see anything in there because the light wasn't on. I started to get out when the girls jumped out of the car and started running for the steps. Stop, I yelled and ran over to them. We could hear noises like a child running around and my eldest daughter to this day says she saw a little boy and described him to a T, but at that moment I thought it might be an intruder or something. Three steps went up to a landing, the locked front door opening into a window screened in porch then the three

French doors. I told the kids to go to the car but they were too scared to leave my side. Both of them clutching the back of my shirt I armed myself with a stick by landing and forging through. Wham. I burst through the front door to the porch and he was there. His face with his two hands cupped against the glass as if he was peering out and then he vanished. We went inside and I searched every room with my obviously freaked out girls practically attached to my side. There was no one there. Was my mind playing tricks on me and was I projecting my fear onto the girls? I turned on all the lights and ran out to get my sleeping baby and the rest of the groceries when I stopped in my tracks. There in the glass were two crescent moon handprints and was fogged up where his nose was.

It stayed there for at least 20 minutes. Let me add my thoughts here. I don't feel we always need words to communicate with them or for them to get a message to us. They are not bound by flesh. You just have to be open and always keep your will strong. Anyway, at night you could look out the French doors at the stores across the street and the desert field. The property was pitch black so you could see the reflection of whatever was behind you. That night everyone was asleep. It was near Christmas so I was admiring the lights decorating the storefronts when I felt one of my children through the floorboards skipping up next to me. I felt a tug on my shirt. I turned my gaze to the reflection and extending my arm over as if to

caress the back of his head and pull him next to me. It didn't hit me. This wasn't my child. He came in under my arm next to me and all I could feel was love and sorrow. I turned to look at him but he was gone. I looked back to his reflection and he was gone as well. He was about eight or nine years old. He had what looked like black and white converses on. He was wearing old jeans with rolled up cuffs. I could see the edge of a white t-shirt under a light gray sweatshirt and his hair was sandy blonde and whisked to the side with the sweetest smile. In that moment I felt everything and I cried. I saw images of abuse I do not want to elaborate on and he made me feel that the man was not his father and that he loved

the comfort of our presence. So many emotions. I went to bed and held my kids tight. I was so full of questions like what happened to his mom? How did he die? I looked for records and was told that back in the day there were not many records kept out there in the desert. A person could live and die and no one would know unless it was reported. I felt whatever else that was in the house was evil and we found out how evil the longer we lived there. I feel I should describe the bedroom so you can get a feel of the surroundings. On one side of the room there was a full-size bed against the wall where I slept, a small nightstand with a lamp, and a single bed next to me against the other wall

where my two little girls slept. And then the living room door at our feet was the hall door, a closet, and a crib. Many nights we would see the light beneath the door get blocked out as if though someone was walking up to my room and just stand there and then fade away. At first we thought it was my mother-in-law going to the bathroom since it was next to our room but we found out later it wasn't her and the dog would sometimes growl and scratch but when we opened the door to the hall there was no one out there. Almost every morning at 6 a.m. we would hear the lid of the toilet slam up and the toilet would flush but when we ran in there the lid was down and the water was

calm. A phone would start ringing in my room despite us not even having one at the time and we could hear old music coming from the walls from time to time. At first I thought it was coming from the pipes of our neighbor or something but we didn't have any. The lady had already moved out and that house was completely empty. So many things happened there but this night in particular caused me to never let my girls sleep in their own bed alone. The girls were so happy that day they both received a package from my mom full of princess stuff, toys, cups and bowls, two beach towels and two nightgowns embossed with their favorite princess image.

The nightgowns were short and silky and after their bath they begged to wear them to bed so I happily complied. It was quiet in the house that night. My mother-in-law was with family along with my husband. I don't remember where the dog was but he wasn't there. I tucked them in, oldest by the wall and the youngest closest to me on the outside. I wasn't ready for sleep so I put a scarf over the lamp to dim the light so I could still read. Now I'm sitting on my bed next to them and as I'm reading the covers slightly come down off of the girls. I didn't think anything of this because my older daughter was notorious for kicking off the blankets so I tucked them

both in and continued my reading. It happened again and once again I cover them up. At this point I am feeling uneasy and the hairs on my arms are starting to rise. Never a good thing. I looked at my oldest daughter and noticed that she hadn't moved. How was this happening? I sat back down on my bed and pretended to read intently staring at the covers over the book pages. Moments passed and felt myself trembling trying to hold the book steady. Then it happened. I saw the covers start to move but the girls were still. I was confused. I didn't understand what was going on. The covers then pulled down with force so I leapt up and grabbed the covers from the end of the bed pulling them up. At point, I am standing next to them and my voice

quivered as I firmly said, stay away from my girls. I still don't know who I was yelling at. I sat on the bed next to them, gripping the covers tight when they were jerked from my hands down to the floor of the bed, exposing my girl's legs and my youngest daughter's nightgown started to rise and she started to scream as she was feeling pain, waking her sister. I threw my body over both of my girls and screamed, get out, leave us alone. Repeatedly, I tried my best to calm the girls down and protect them. We stayed huddled together all night. That was the last time they slept alone in that house. I was able to get a bigger bed and we all slept together from that point on. I don't have photographic evidence but my youngest daughter had large red marks on her thigh.

I bet you're wondering why didn't we just leave? Believe me I wanted to. I felt trapped, not just by the house, but by my husband. Let me start by saying that my husband was not the nicest man. I feel he tricked me when we first got together. I was young, but I knew what he was capable of, and let's just say that I didn't want to lose anyone I loved. So that's why I didn't leave him, but this was different. This was not him. This was a whole other evil. I started noticing a shift in him the longer we lived there. We stopped going out as a family and he stopped working. He put bars on the window and locks on the doors.

Living there changed him. The things he started to do were out of his character that made me uncomfortable. He started watching me from dark rooms and behind cracks in the doors. When I asked him why he was doing this he got mad and made me feel like I was crazy. When we were alone together in that house I felt it even more intense. One such night the kids were at my mother's and we had just finished dinner. We were sitting together on the couch watching TV. I was mending a sock and it had been a pretty good day. I noticed a change in the atmosphere and for some reason he seemed to have gone quiet. I was just about to ask him if he wanted me to change the channel when a small flash of light

hit my right eye. It wasn't until shortly after trying to find the source that I realized he was staring at me the whole time through a little piece of broken mirror in his right hand hidden by the throw cover. My god, those eyes. Those eyes weren't his. I know him. This is not my person sitting next to me and I was frightened to the core. He didn't even realize I saw this so I sprung up. His mom just had a phone installed so I said I'm going to call my mother and check on the kids. He jumped and hid the mirror in the couch cushions and started trying to reason with me as to why I should just come back and sit down next to him and not call my mom. It didn't like her. I noticed that while he was talking he wasn't even looking at me. He was looking behind my head almost like he was looking through me. I glanced at my reflection in the glass door but nothing was behind me. I grabbed the phone and called my

mother assuring him I was only going to be a minute. We stayed on the phone until he fell asleep and quite a bit longer. My mother knew what was going on but she felt helpless as I did at the time. He got up and went to sleep in the bedroom so I stayed awake with the blanket covering everything but my eyes while listening to him breathe until dawn when I finally fell asleep on the couch. There was another time at about 4.30pm. We needed some groceries for dinner so I got the girls ready and left my baby boy asleep in his playpen in the living room. My mother-in-law was napping at the dining room table and my husband was sitting on the edge of our bed. I yelled out to him that I was leaving to keep an ear out for the baby but he didn't respond so I repeated myself I heard him mutter yeah so we left the store didn't have something his mother wanted

so I had to go to the two stores it had just gotten dark and as we pulled up I could hear the baby crying I rushed in and his mother was still sitting at the table. I picked up my son and he was soaking wet. It looked like he'd been crying for a while. I was changing his diaper, calming him down and the whole time my mother-in-law was getting mad at me for leaving her alone with the baby. I was furious and I told her, I didn't, I left him with your son. She looked surprised. She didn't even know he was home. What? Where was he? I put my son down and told the girls to play with him. Something was off. I didn't think he was in the bedroom because the lights were out but someone was in there. It was abnormally dark. I slowly went up to the door and walked in. There was a

dim light coming in through a crack in the blinds and I saw his silhouette still sitting on the bed. He hadn't moved. His feet were on the floor and he was slightly hunched forward with his elbows resting on his legs, cupping his hands together. The room smelled stuffy and thick like sweat. I called out his name but he didn't reply. Once again I called his name adding, you're scaring me. I moved closer saying, why aren't you answering me? I saw that he was sweating and that it was glistening in the light and dripping from his head to his hands and then his hands to the floor. I could hear it as it dripped to the floor. I was shaking while I slowly made my way around him to the lamp and I heard a growl that almost sounded like it was

coming from the floorboards. I turned the lamp on. His shirt was soaking wet. There was a pool of sweat at his feet and his eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them. His stare was fixated down towards the floor. I was afraid to get near him but I felt he needed my help. I started to shake him while calling out his name. He was cold to the touch. I crouched down in front of him between his legs but I wanted to run out of that room. I took his face in my shaking hands and with a quiver in my voice I said please just like that he snapped out of it he grabbed both my wrists and hurled me onto the bed behind him he said with a loud voice what are you doing freak then got up and went to the bathroom I heard him turn on the shower as I laid there curled up,

not knowing what just happened. I soon composed myself and went out to bring the groceries in and make dinner. Later he joined us as if nothing ever happened but I still felt uneasy. The night went on and he was his old self, goofing off with the kids and watching cartoons. I went to the kitchen to wash the dishes with my back to the hall. I heard him in the living room with the kids. I heard him. The next thing I knew, he was behind me and he aggressively grabbed my waist and put his mouth on me. I could feel his teeth on my neck.

I jumped. He startled me. Then he looked at me like he wanted me dead and said, you disgust me, and left the house. I don't know where he went. I didn't ask. All I know is that he was gone. He came back later that next morning dirty and saying something about him getting lost in the desert. I remember him telling me once that I could scream out there and no one would hear me. We eventually got out of that house after living through horror, not knowing from day to day what was going to happen next and who was safe. I later left my husband because of those and other atrocities he put me through while living there borderlining on abuse rather than paranormal. For years after that, I would have nightmares of him appearing at the

foot of my bed, clawing his way up my legs, closing the space between our faces with his cold breath on my lips and those eyes. I would wake up gasping for air. I still shiver when I see small mirrors or broken glass. A few years later I ran into the former renter so I asked her if she knew anything about a little boy ever living there or did someone die and she said she heard that there was a boy and that his mother disappeared leaving him with his stepdad who was abusive to him. Later the boy was found stuffed in a hole on the property dead and the stepdad had taken his own life. I don't know if that's true but it seemed pretty close to what I felt. I wish even now that I could have helped him move on. We couldn't even drive down that street after that and we all cried with relief many years later when we found out that

the house had been demolished to the ground and a housing tract was built over the land. I still wonder if those people living there are plagued by the evil within. So I worked at a warehouse, but instead of the heavy lifting and aisles of boxes everywhere, we have computers. My job is a desk job where we take documents from big companies and import them into a computer system so it's easier for the client to find what they're looking for. When I first started, things were great and weird things would happen here and there but was more coincidence than anything. One day I was working separate papers and this big purple sign they had hung up randomly fell out of nowhere. Someone just picked it up and

put it against the wall like nothing had happened and we got back to work. But the longer I worked there, the more things I saw that you really couldn't put an answer to. I got close with one of the people working there and she told me stories about the place that we had worked at. Apparently the first owner of that place sold it to whom we work for now. His mother told him if he sold the building that she would haunt the place and terrorize the people that work there. At this time I was now working on a computer in an area where when smoking was legal inside the workplace people would go smoke in that area. They now put what shipments we get and there are two vending machines for the employees. I had my headphones in and was listening to Let's Read stories and saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I got curious and turned to see if someone was walking by.

Next thing I know I see an elderly woman staring at me with the worst look ever. I shot out of my chair and cursed, hopping up and down trying to catch my breath because, believe it or not, it scared me. The co-worker I got close to was behind me and asked what was wrong. I told her what I saw and she said, oh that's the old owner's mother. I kind of laughed at this and she looked me dead in the eyes and said, no I'm serious. I felt the color drain from my face and I had to sit down. I've had experiences before but never an elderly woman with a mean look staring at me and then disappearing. She then adds, Oh her husband is here too. He's in the dungeon area.

So we called this back room where we stored boxes the dungeon cause it was a very creepy room. I've seen stuff out of the corner of my eye when I was close to that area but brushed it off. Well I had now seen the woman and decided not to let that distract me from doing my job and I'm guessing she didn't like that or the fact I cursed at her so the big stack of folders I had by me kept getting knocked down and the stickers we put on boxes kept falling on the ground off a desk and unraveling. The stickers I don't understand because where we had them they were at the back of the desk so something really had to push them or throw them across

the desk to do something. I got frustrated one day because those things kept happening and my friend said to apologize and she would stop. So I did but she still messes with me here and there. I started noticing that I get anxious when she is around so I hope I can grow on her like my co-worker has and not have to worry about this mean old lady. Today my yandere girlfriend had been taken away. I met this girlfriend in 7th grade. It all started when I was sitting at a table by myself because my friends ditched me and the girlfriend came up to me and sat beside me and said hello.

In a confused voice girlfriend greeted me. The first thing I noticed was her voice. It sounded amazing and we started a conversation and became friends. The next day I invited her to sit with my friends and we got along well. Her and I started hanging out in private and we enjoyed hanging out together. We even got in touch online whether it was playing video games together or just texting. After a couple of months of this she asked me out. I thought about it for a second and then accepted. How could I not? She was good looking, nice and just perfect. I felt a little awkward about being taller and older but it was my first girlfriend and I couldn't care less. We hung out together, had sleepovers and did much more. It seemed like we were having the perfect time. I noticed she started getting more

obsessive with me. She would want to spend every minute with me. Sometimes she wouldn't even allow me to hang out with my friends. Over time it got worse and she threatened to hurt me if I didn't stay with her. And one day she snapped. I didn't answer my door when she came to my house which was yesterday. She started texting me over and over telling me how she was going to do ungodly things to me. I didn't take the text seriously which was a big mistake. The next day, an hour after my parents left, she actually broke into my house. I wasn't expecting this so I wasn't prepared.

Once I heard glass breaking I closed my rooms door and hid in my closet about to call 911 but then I heard the door open and I heard her say why are you hiding from me? I was frightened then I heard the closet door open she saw me got closer to me with a knife in her hand with an evil grin and bloodshot eyes. I started screaming and then she pushed me to the ground and held me down with a knife against my throat. My friend heard the commotion and called the cops immediately. They would have not arrived till about 10 minutes after the girlfriend kept on saying stuff along the lines of why don't you love me anymore or it's so cute when you get scared. I asked her why she was doing this and she just stared into my eyes with

no emotion and an evil grin and started laughing. She started to rub the knife against my throat. I begged her to just leave me alone and all she did was continue to grin and laugh. The police raided the house pointing their guns at her, they told her to put the weapon down. She complied. And I had so many questions. How could someone so innocent looking and young do this? Why is she doing this? After she was taken away by the cops, they questioned me for a while.

I couldn't answer most of their questions because I didn't have the answers. I'm still traumatized from all of this. I'm scared of dating anyone. I'm scared of being left alone. I'm going insane day by day. I have nightmares of the incident. I have flashbacks. All I can say is be careful who you date. with them throughout your experience to feel like you're actually at the casino. The excitement doesn't stop there. With over 3,000 games to choose from, including fan favorites like Cash

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to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Discover the exciting action of BetMGM Casino. Check out a wide variety of table games with a live dealer or enjoy over 3,000 games to choose from like Cash Eruption. with iGaming Ontario. If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. When I was 13, the dawning of a new millennium took place on New Year's Eve. While people were fearing the worst with the Y2K bug or out partying and drinking I was home alone. Now in 1996 my parents

had split up and from there they divorced and my mother and I moved across the country from Oregon to Tennessee with her best friend. On the eve of the year 2000 I was home alone and my mother was currently out of state. This didn't worry me as this was not the first time. I often came home to find a note on the kitchen counter saying they had gone to Florida for a few days and that there were groceries in the fridge. Since the divorce she would regularly leave me home alone for long periods of time to go to Florida. We lived in a relatively quiet road, surrounded by trees and set a few miles out of town and I knew most of the people

if not by name, then by face enough to wave and small chat with and had never before been given a reason to be afraid of being alone. On the night in question I was staying up late watching television. I remember I was watching the movie His Bodyguard on USA Channel and had most of the lights on in the house. Not because I was afraid but because at 13 I wasn't concerned with electricity bills or saving the environment. I felt completely safe and protected within my little bubble of the home. As I was watching the movie I kept hearing these weird sounds outside but I remember thinking it was probably the neighbors. Though they weren't extremely close a couple of them were having a party or people over for the holiday. About halfway into the

movie however the power in the house suddenly went dead. I sat on the couch for a minute, just sort of in a panicked daze because it was near midnight and pitch black. I remember thinking the power must have gone out and that it would come back on, so I just decided to sit on the couch with my blanket and wait. A few minutes passed by when I heard a noise in the kitchen where the back door is. My heart started racing in my chest because I thought it sounded like the back door being shut. The back door is. My heart started racing in my chest because I thought it sounded like the back door being shut. The back door sits just off the dining room which is connected to the kitchen which leads directly into the living room where I was currently sitting on the couch. A few seconds passed after I had heard the sound and I was straining my ears to pick up anything

that wasn't supposed to be there. Every noise suddenly felt magnified. When footsteps sounded on the floor I immediately slithered off the couch onto all fours, crawled around the ottoman, and started as slowly and as quietly as I could to make my way toward the space between the loveseat and the couch. I knew if I could fit under the side table and be completely hidden by the dark and the ottoman from playing hide and go seek in the dark many many times with my friends during sleepovers. I was nearly there when the footsteps became more apparent.

I knew from the sound of them that whoever it was was making their way through the kitchen now toward the living room. They weren't hurried or anything, it was like they were just moving around in the kitchen now toward the living room. They weren't hurried or anything, it was like they were just moving around in the kitchen. I glanced up from where I was crouched on the floor and to my horror there was a dark silhouette standing in the archway between the two rooms. To my credit I didn't scream, however I did panic. I stood immediately to my feet from my hiding spot and ran down the hallway and I believe the only reason I wasn't overcome was because the person chasing me had to get around the ottoman in the dark to follow me. I did what all children do when they're afraid and I bypassed the front

door, the guest bedroom, the bathroom and ran to the farthest door down the hallway, my room. In all honesty I probably wouldn't have been able to get the front door unlocked and opened in time as it was right off the side of the couch. When I was 10 I got a bird for my birthday. He was a blue fronted amazon and I named him Boo because it was October and close to Halloween. Boo had a large iron cage, it could have been metal but very large, sturdy and like six feet tall and it was kept in my room despite the fact that Boo, like me, pretty much had the run of the house wherever he wanted. This information will become relevant later in the story. As I ran into the room I slammed the door shut and locked it, however the lock was simply one

of those little turn knobs that you can easily pop with a butter knife. I had barely gotten the door shut and locked when the person on the other side knocked on it. I have no idea why they knocked, if they did it to mock me or to scare me, but I knew in my heart that the little lock was not going to keep whomever was on the other side out of my room. It didn't keep my mother out when we were arguing and it wouldn't stand up to brute force. I was panicking on the verge of tears when the person started laughing. It was low, quiet and because of that it was even more frightening. It wasn't like manic laughter but as if they were genuinely amused. It was the laughter that really frightened me and I started heavily hysterically crying

and looking around my room to figure out what I could do. That was when I realized Boo's cage would fit almost perfectly between the door and the wall of my closet. The cage moved quietly on my carpeted floor but as I pushed it into place it scraped against the door and alerted whoever it was on the other side that I was trying to barricade myself in because suddenly they threw themselves at my door and you could hear the sound of the wood splintering and the door handle being twisted violently. Boo, who had been stirred by the movement awake, began literally screaming and flapping his wings. I might have screamed with

him but honestly I don't remember screaming, I just remember being extremely scared. Terrified, I crawled under my bed and couch, a bunk bed with a futon on the bottom, and waited several minutes and the person eventually stopped attacking my door. Boo continued screaming even after he had stopped. Though being under my bed gave me no feelings of being secure, I didn't come out from under it because I simply had nowhere else to go. I thought about trying to go out the window but I was afraid he might expect it and therefore be waiting for me on the other side and was also several feet off the ground as the house was built on a raised foundation. I remember laying under my bed terrified for what

felt like hours. I must have fallen asleep because I awoke the next morning to daylight. The fear of what happened came back to me as soon as I registered where I was and why and scared that whoever had been in my house might still be there. I decided to crawl out the window and run to a neighbor's since it was daylight outside and therefore I felt less afraid. Crawling out a window is a lot harder than it looks and I did it less than gracefully as I was not and still am not the most coordinated human being. Once I was back on my feet however I carefully made my way around the house

and that's when I noticed that the back door was wide open. Scared but feeling braver now that I was outside and that it was morning instead of pitch black night, I walked up the back steps and peered inside. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, no terrifying man leering at me basically, I decided to go in. Looking back, I cringe on how stupid this could have turned out and that I wish I could have told my younger self to make the smarter move and just go get help but thankfully no one was inside the house. I did a terrifying heart-pounding room-to-room check

looking in closets and under beds, behind the couch, anywhere I thought even a small child might be able to fit. I even popped the lock on my mom's bedroom so I could check it and then re-locked it afterwards. When I was positive that there was no one there, I went back to lock the back door. I had left it open in case I needed to escape and noticed that the breaker box on the opposite wall was open. The main switch had been pulled. I flipped it back on, locked both locks on the back door, checked all the windows and front door and then called my mom, where I once again broke down crying hysterically. She called a co-worker, who came and stayed the entire day with me as they drove back. My mom still took random trips to Florida after that, but I always went with her from then on forward. So terrifying, laughing, crazy person that

broke into my house on New Year's Eve. Let's never meet again. I sincerely hope no other young girl had to meet you either. I don't know if you were just some drunk visitor of a neighbor, but you terrorized me that night, and I was afraid of being alone when my mom was working, and to this day, I still get scared when I'm home alone. Overthink what I would do if someone came inside and where I would hide. When the cats make a noise out of nowhere I immediately investigate for fear it's someone trying to get in. The story I'm going to share with you took place in the North Pole, Alaska, back in May. The incident I'm going to describe was wrong place, wrong time, and completely unprovoked, which no one believes. Another note, I was still only 20 when this incident occurred and could not legally own

a pistol yet. Also, I was in the army and if you live in the barracks, you have to keep your weapons in the arms room, so it's not like it's convenient to get that out and carry as compared to a guy living off post who can keep his gun in a safe in the closet. I know people will wonder why I was carrying. Those are the reasons. And anyway, here's my story. On the night of Cinco de Mayo, I attended a party at a friend's house in the North Pole, Alaska. North Pole is about 20-30 minutes outside of Fairbanks. It's a somewhat rural community, lots of houses that are on 1-2 acre lots and mostly all dirt roads off the main road. I was the designated driver that night and drove four of my friends but three of the friends that I brought decided they were going to spend the night at that person's house instead of going back to the barracks.

Only one friend that wasn't drinking a lot decided that he wanted to get back to the barracks when I was ready to go. We ended up leaving at about 1.30am. As we were pulling into the front gate we got a call that there had been a fight at the party. They said after the fight everyone was going home instead of staying the night and continuing to drink. They asked us to come back and pick them up but said that they had went to a different friend's house that lived in that same area because everyone had to leave after the fight. Well GPS doesn't work that well once you get outside of Fairbanks and aren't on the main roads, at least not with my terrible Verizon service that night. You could get in the general area but not always the exact location. When we went to the address that was given it came up as being in the middle of the road so we took a turn down a side road to

turn around and try to get service so that we can make a call to figure out where the house was. By this time it was around 2 30 a.m. As we turned down the road there was an old red minivan with fog lights mounted on top just idling there with two guys that looked to be in their late 20s inside. I remember thinking that it looked like something you'd see in a TV show or a horror movie, just a real creepy looking van, especially almost 3 in the morning. We had to pass them to turn around and they looked at us in a way that gave us a really bad feeling. So we turned around and then had to pass them again to pull out onto the main road. As we passed them the driver was leaning his head out of the window like he wanted us to stop so that they get asked for something.

Being that it was almost 3am we knew it was probably best to keep driving. My friend wasn't able to get a hold of anyone so he tried mapping it out again. The GPS was delayed due to the poor service though and we missed the turn again. We saw a small clearing to pull over so we pulled over on the side of the road to verify where we were at compared to the street that we had missed. About 10 seconds later the red minivan with fog lights pulled up next to us on my driver's side and rolled down the window. I rolled my window down and they initiated conversation by asking if we had seen a white Dodge pickup. We said we hadn't and they said okay thanks. We then asked if they knew where

Meadow Rue, the street we were looking for, was. They said it was the first street on the left if we headed back the way we had just came. We were suspicious but we looked at the GPS. It showed that was the road. We found out later that the road was on both sides of the main road. Note, locals outside of Fairbanks tend to not like the active duty military guys and military guys stick out a lot due to the lack of beard and long hair and having a military haircut. We started heading toward Meadow Rue, which was about a half mile away, and saw them pull out and start heading that way behind us. We made the turn into what we thought was Meadow Rue, and this road is a bumpy dirt road and immediately forks off in two directions. One side goes straight and up a slight hill, the other side is off to the left and drops down about

two feet and flattens out. We turn left and drop down the small incline. The road was narrow, only big enough for one car and lined with trees on both sides for a good distance. The first thing we noticed was a dead end sign and that's when we started to get worried. We drove about 20 feet and then we see the minivan with fog lights turn in and drop down behind us. At this point my blood turned cold and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I knew at this point that they were following us. I tried to be positive and hope for a split second that they'd hang back and turn off at the first driveway which we hadn't seen a driveway yet but then I saw them speeding up. Again this is a bumpy

dirt side street and there's no reason to be going fast. I started speeding up and then they slammed into the back of my car, backed off and then ran me again. A few seconds later we made it to a small clearing like a dirt cul-de-sac. I had enough room to pull forward and then reverse myself back so that I was facing the direction I had just came. While I was doing this, they stopped and blocked the one-lane dirt road. They hopped out of the car and one of them shouted, this ain't Meadow Rue, get out of the car. The one guy had positioned himself directly in front of my car about 10 to 15 feet away from the trees in his van. The other guy started walking up to my passenger side where my friend was.

They kept shouting at us to get out but I just gunned it right at the guy in front of me trying to run him over. He managed to jump out of the way. I thought for sure there wouldn't be enough room between his van and the trees and figured we'd get stuck but we had no guns so there wasn't a better choice. I thought we'd have to bail out and run into the woods and hide but to my surprise we squeezed through. It was such a tight fit that both my mirrors collapsed in. I then sped out of there, got on the main road and headed for home. I had seen a state trooper not long before all of this, not too far down the road. I was scared to death of being chased again and then run off the road at higher speeds, so instead of slowing down, I blew past the state trooper while doing 90 in a 45,

not exaggerating. Since that is extreme speeding, I thought I'd get the trooper's attention, but for whatever reason, it didn't. There was only one turn on the whole way back and when I slowed down to make it the van was nowhere in sight. I still flew back at 90 miles per hour all the way back just to be safe. The next day we tried to tell our friends what had happened. Nobody believed us, not one person. They thought we didn't feel like driving all the way back to pick them up so we made up a story to get out of it. The guy who had invited us all over originally said that if we were serious that we needed to go file a police report with the Alaska State Troopers. So we went to file a police report at the State Trooper's office in town. When we filed a report, after giving our story to the trooper, he told us

to wait and then he left the room. About 15 minutes later he came back in and told us to tell the truth. Confused, we asked him what he meant. He said his theory was that we were drunk, driving around late at night after the Cinco de Maya party and we plowed into the van we described. He said he thought the owner heard that happen and then came out and confronted us so we took off. He said to get ahead of the story we made up the whole thing so we wouldn't get in trouble for wrecking into a car while drunk and leaving the scene. We repeatedly told him that was not the case and said everything that we had told him was true without evidence to prove his theory and

he let us go. The next day he went and checked the area we showed him on the map. I guess when he didn't find a wrecked car he knew we were most likely telling the truth. He called and asked us to come meet him out there to verify that was the area but we told him we didn't want to go out anywhere near there again. About two weeks after that he called and asked us to come in and possibly ID the vehicle. He showed us a picture of a red minivan with fog lights and we said that it looked like the vehicle from the incident. He then told us that the vehicle was stolen out of Nenana, Alaska sometime before that and it was stolen from an old woman. These guys may or may not have

been related to her. The trooper said if any arrests were made he would call us back and we never heard anything to follow up after that. To this day no one really believes my story. They think we did something to provoke the incident or just think we made it all up to sound cool or something but it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time. It was just a normal Thursday, though I had woken up later than I normally do. I had a test that I was prepared for that day in my favorite class. Since I felt that I was going to be late I tried to rush out the door at my usual time about 7.15 in the morning. I was passed halfway through the door when my dad called me

back to the kitchen. He asked me if I had eaten anything for breakfast, something I am used to skipping since I eat after my first class. I tried to play it off that I did but he didn't budge from it. He told me to eat something before leaving and I reached for a banana. He waited for me to finish eating it before telling me to have a good day. I got in my car running behind my usual schedule and rushed lawfully and safely to school. I consider myself a decent and safe driver. I enjoy driving my car, a 2013 Mini. I get to the school and pull into the parking lot at about 7.26 or so, and I pull around back to my usual parking spot since I was a senior and have a permit to park. I park my car, grab my stuff, and begin heading to the gates of the school when

I see a huge crowd of other students running from the campus. Instantly I knew something had happened. I jumped back into my car and drove away thankfully but I got caught in bad traffic heading out. Traffic was common since the school is placed in a neighborhood and lots of kids get dropped off at the front. At this point I was shaking with uncertainty and fear. I don't recall exactly what went through my head other than how am I going to let my parents know I'm okay. I didn't have a phone, still don't have a working one and had no way to communicate with my parents. I spotted a familiar face and I pulled up to ask

what was happening. She was one of my teachers and she yelled for me to get out of here, shoot her on campus, just go. And all of a sudden it hit me. Get away from there, now. Sitting in the traffic trying to funnel out of the area, dozens of cops flew down this narrow lane with lots of panicking parents and homeowners. The blaring sirens still ring in my ear to the time I am writing this and I freeze up at the sound of sirens. I was worried about my friends since most had a first period class. I hoped that because they were in the class that they were safe

and that they weren't hurt. As I pulled out of traffic time slowed for me and for once I was lost. I regained my surroundings and started to head home, avoiding the main roads as I knew that they would be flooded with emergency response personnel. I get to the intersection to head to my house and while I wait for my light to turn, police and fire block the road to my home. I had decided to turn right and head around yet again. Every couple of seconds I would have to pull to the side to clear the way for emergency vehicles. I pull around to the other end of the hill that my house sits. As I arrive at the intersection the road is yet again blocked off. I frantically think of my options since there is no possible route for me to take home so

I head to my mom's office on the other side of town to try and get somewhere safe. When I get to the office, I bolt inside and try to find my mom, but she wasn't there yet since my brother was getting dropped off at school, different from my own. I burst into her desk space and grab the phone to dial my parents. I don't remember much after the call, other than getting water and food and sitting in the main room watching the news as the event unfolds. I was glued to the TV looking for any sign of my friends. To see them on TV would probably mean they were okay. When my mom arrives she picks me up and takes me home. She had thought that someone had targeted me. I am the least to say different and was at home after taking my brother back. His school was on lockdown and he couldn't get into his class so he got back in the car.

I got home and ran into my dad's arms. The rest of the day I watched the news as information was being shared. The hardest thing for me to come to terms with are that I knew the shooter and he was a friend of a friend. Later I found that a freshman girl who I had met the day before died. Then the second victim. Then the next day the last being the shooter himself. I couldn't believe that this had happened and most of all it was a banana that saved me I would have been in the quad area at the time it went down there are articles on the event of what happened events I am thankful I did not endure none of my other friends were caught in the chaos and they are safe

the shooter my friend and everyone will forever remember the morning of November 14th 2019 at Saugus High School and it only took 16 seconds. This is a cautionary tale back in the mid-90s. Remember, cell phones were still a luxury in those dark times, so I didn't have one. I was still an angsty teenager and a bit of a mood. I didn't feel like talking to people and so neglected to arrange a ride home from a late school event. I was delayed getting out of the play and by that time most of my friends had already gone home. I didn't have my own car, my mom worked late so she wouldn't be home for another two hours. My only choice for a ride was my very recent ex and it would have made her drive

in the wrong direction anyway. I decided that the best option was to walk home, even though it took an hour and it was already after dark. The route was one long hilly road. It connected several quiet suburban subdivisions of houses and the road was adequately bathed with the orange sodium glow of streetlights, so I didn't feel concerned for my safety. I had a large backpack full of books and gym clothes that I was taking home to wash. The bag was bulky and awkward but not very heavy. I was confident that I could walk the route without too much trouble. I usually walked home after school anyways.

About a third of the way on my trek some guy on a bike starts to pedal past me. He was a much older guy in his maybe late 30s, but obviously trying to dress down and look younger. He wore a long gold chain around his neck, a fact emphasized by his shirt which was unbuttoned all the way. He kept swerving through the empty street, doing rapid figure eights and eventually popping a wheelie. He stopped next to me and asked, What do you think about that? Well, I'm the quiet, contemplative type and not usually impressed by sudden bursts of ostentatiousness, so I didn't think much of his display. Honestly, my only thought about it was that this guy was kind of stupid for doing those things

without a helmet. Trying to be polite, I said, uh, it was pretty good, I guess. Yeah, I'm Mike. What's your name? This was a much younger, more naive version of myself. For the sake of the story, we'll call me Henry, because it rhymes and that's important for later, as you'll discover. I'm Henry. Mike proceeds to circle around the street on his bike so he doesn't outpace me. You running away from home, Henry? I realize that this was a valid question given the huge overstuffed bag on my back, the late hour, and the fact that I was probably walking around with a scowl on my face.

No, I'm just walking home from a school event. I realize that there was a weird weird hopeful tone to his voice when Mike had asked. Mike continues to circle around and I'm slightly grateful when he wheels away because he smells like sour beer and BO. Like I said, I wasn't in the mood to deal with people that night so if he wasn't talking to me I tried not to engage him. Henry. Oh, he kept trying to engage me in conversation. Henry, do you like swimming? Unfortunately, we had drifted into a darker patch of road so he couldn't see my patent and annoyed eyebrow arching.

Sometimes, I huffed, noncommittally trying to let the annoyance color my voice. Henry? He drawled at me with each loop he pulled up next to me. After three or four revolutions, I snapped. What? Do you know the trailer park at the top of the hill, Henry? I did and grunted an affirmative. They don't lock their pool gate.

You like hot tubs? Finally, younger, stupider me is picking up on his instincts and cluing into the fact that this guy is a huge creeper. I try to deflect the question. Sorry man, I don't have a swimsuit. He responds, you don't need one. He did another slow rotation in his figure eight, saying my name in long eerie time to his bicycle loops and when I failed to respond, he follows it up with, you're running away from home. Again, his voice was strangely optimistic when he asked. Starting to get severely unnerved by this guy, I blurted out, I'm going home. There was a slight wobble in my voice. My cool had definitely not been kept. He asked again if I wanted to go sit in the hot tub.

I tried to keep him in my peripheral vision but avoid eye contact, and I refrained from answering any more of his questions. I also tried to reach up and loosen my backpack straps in case I had to drop the pack and take off running. He continued circling back and forth in the road to stay at my walking pace and droning that long gravelly incantation that made me dread the sound of my own name. Henry, Henry, punctuated by an occasional short bark of Henry. Suddenly the safe suburban subdivisions looked a lot further back from the road. More of them were gated than I remembered. This continued for another half hour. I considered turning down a side street but the

gated fortresses had only receded to shallow cul-de-sacs and I didn't want to get cornered down one of them. The entire time he continued to chant, Henry, don't you want to talk to me? Are you running away from home? Finally we reached the top of the hill with the fabled trailer park and hot tub. He cut his current slow circle short and darted across to reach the street to the pool, and he managed to cut right in front of me so that he nearly hit me with his bike. You want to try that hot tub? Henry, Henry, Henry, Henry, no! I screamed. I do not! Fortunately, he actually accepted the rejection for once and started his slow bike ride down the side street calling back to me. Think about it and come back. You can stay in my trailer if you want.

I just ran the rest of the way home, cutting across several neighbors' lawns and looking over my shoulder most of the time. About four years ago, I was a line cook at a restaurant that was located in a hotel. I worked at this restaurant for nearly two years with no problem, walking the half mile or so distance it took for me to reach the bus that I took to get home from my job. This restaurant had a partnership with the hotel for late night room service, so pretty much every night after closing the restaurant, one, sometimes two line cooks would stay after until 3am preparing simple things like salads, sandwiches and wraps that would then be

taken to the rooms via hotel employees. Now me, being a recent college grad in my early 20s would always volunteer myself for the extra hours. Student loans and rent cost a lot of money. As I said prior, I had worked this job for a decent amount of time with no problems except for one rainy night I'll never forget. As I left my work that morning around 3am I realized I messed up when I forgot an umbrella that day. I now had to make my normal walk under decent rainfall. After lighting a cigarette and putting in my headphones I was ready to make my unfortunate journey. I started on my normal route walking back, cutting through the alleyways I had memorized as my shortcuts through the city.

About halfway through my walk a car started following next to me with a passenger window down. Aware of my surroundings I had recognized this but decided to mind my business and keep my head down and keep walking. Growing up in a rough neighborhood taught me better than to put my nose where it doesn't belong. Unfortunately that wasn't enough. Over the music coming from my headphones I could hear shouting coming from the car. I turned to face the car's driver but didn't stop walking. He looked back at me, a white man in his late 30s early 40s with a bandana and sunglasses on. I remember thinking it was odd that he was driving with sunglasses so late in the night.

Hey man, where you headed? I could hear him say. At this point I took out one earbud and replied, what's it to you? To which he answered, I figured I'd ask. You look like you need a ride to get out of the rain. I told the guy I'm all set and that I was almost at my destination. Now keep in mind I'm still walking and he's driving slowly next to me on this side street at 3am. No problem, he replied. Do you smoke, man? Ganja? He asked. At this point I was annoyed with the guy. I had just gotten done working 13 hours in the kitchen and all I wanted to do was listen to some music and unwind before bed.

Nah man, I don't. Even though I do. I replied in a stern and obviously annoyed tone. He just looked at me, almost like he knew I was messing with him. I said, Alright, have a good night. Before replacing my earphone back into my ear and taking a right up a one-way side street, losing him in the process. I arrived at my bus stop safely and within about ten minutes to spare. I was the only one there besides one other man and a homeless man sleeping on a bench some ways up. After about three minutes, that car pulls up to the side of the curb, directly in the bus's lane.

This time, I'm facing him. He rolled down the window. You're heading to the south side, huh? He said. I replied, how do you know? He pointed above me. I looked up on the digital board. It said the next bus's destination and time. You want a lift? I'm headed there that way now, he said. At this point I was all set and the hood came out of me. Hey man, I don't know you and I don't want to ride so why don't you just keep coasting? I said angrily. He just stared at me again but this time I stared back. We locked eyes for a good 20 seconds before the bus approached behind him honking loudly. The guy checked his rearview mirror, rolled up the window and sped off.

On the way home I remember looking behind me and my surroundings to make sure this creep didn't try to follow me home. Thankfully he didn't and when I got off the bus I was in my apartment safe within 5 minutes. Fast forward a week, one of my buddies who I work with asked me if I had heard about the body that was found in a dumpster behind the grocery store less than five minutes from the hotel. I replied no. He told me the body of a girl was found strangled to death and cops are on the lookout for the killer at large. The cops had no evidence and were asking for people to come forward with additional information. I hadn't told my buddy

or anyone besides my girlfriend at the time what happened that night. When I told him my story he insisted I call the cops and tell them what happened. I told him I would but I never did. Call me old school but like I said earlier, I learned growing up to mind my own business and avoid trouble when trouble won't find me, so that's what I did. To this day, I haven't heard anything more on the case. I do wonder if it was the same guy. I think about how weird it was for him to approach me the way he did at such an odd hour of day.

The sunglasses, the following me to the bus stop. That stuff doesn't normally happen, right? After that experience I started walking home with my paring knife in my pocket and walked with only one earphone in the whole time so I could hear my surroundings better. I also stopped volunteering for the overnight shift. I hope whoever ended that girl gets caught or does have a change of heart. It's crazy to me how fragile life can be. I'm a 16 year old girl. I've just started a Saturday job at a shop in a large chain of

stores. I work Saturday 9 to 5 30. Literally the second week I worked there this guy came in. He was trying to talk to me being kind of flirtatious but nothing major. If I had to guess he's probably mid-20s which is a big difference considering I'm sixteen but I do look slightly older so he may have thought I'm eighteen. I was honestly incredibly bored so I didn't think anything of it. I was just bored and he was someone to chat to as I was ringing up his shopping. Later that day he came back into the store when he was on his lunch break. He said something like, thought I'd come back and see you again.

Which I thought was weird and borderline creepy. He then tried to give me his number. I was like, don't worry about it. Because he was trying to find a pen. But then he went outside the shop to ask every passerby for a pen. Got one. Came inside again and gave me his number. I had a long line of customers at that point and I was alone on the till so I took it in the hopes that

he'd go away. He asked me for my name, I didn't want to tell him because at this point I was creeped out so I just said it doesn't matter. So then he went back into line for my till, bought something and asked for the receipt. The receipts have my entire name on the bottom, don't they? He finally leaves, saying something about how I'm beautiful and we need to meet up sometime. No, we don't. I was working again the next week and he came back in, wanting to know why I hadn't texted. Hovering around the tills basically wouldn't go away. I had already told my colleagues and manager about him so I gave my colleague who was on the till with me a look and he hadn't done

anything so there was really nothing we could do. At this point I'm not making small talk with him, he's really creeping me out. I was acting like he wasn't there, chatting with my colleague, I made sure to specifically bring up school and GSCEs to my colleague while he was there, just in case he didn't realize that I was 16. He was probably hovering around for five minutes or so, just not going away. This was probably about ten minutes after the shop had opened, so we didn't have hardly any customers. He kept saying I should have texted so I bit the bullet and said I should have told you last week but I didn't want to embarrass you in front of a line

of customers. I'm not really interested. Sorry. So then he was like oh okay well we can still be friends right? Obviously I have to be professional because I'm at work so I didn't answer that one. Then he was trying to tell me I have a gorgeous smile. I wasn't smiling and he was being really creepy at this point. In the end, I found an excuse to go out into the warehouse when in reality, I was going to get my manager to tell him to leave. Apparently, as soon as I left, he bought a packet of and left rather quickly I guess he knew what I was doing later that day I went to go on my lunch break I have the same lunch break every week he knew which lunch break I had from the first time he ever came into the shop he said something like not long till lunch now is it and I I was like, uh, not really. I always take lunch at 1230 because at that point

I hadn't realized he was a massive creep. So obviously my colleagues and manager know what he looks like now. And my colleague was there when he was hovering around and gave a description to the manager. They also went through the cameras to see what he looked like. It was 1230 and I went to go on lunch and my manager came up to me and was like, don't be alarmed but I'm pretty sure he's hanging around the entrance to the shop waiting for you to come out because he knows I usually go out for lunch. Again, another thing I told him the first time. He was asking a ton of questions and I didn't think anything of it. We were just making small talk in my mind. So yeah, I snuck out the

back entrance at my manager's request, didn't go to the place I usually go in case he knew where I usually went and went somewhere else instead. Honestly, I was so creeped out I didn't want to go out for lunch at all, but I had to because I didn't bring food and I'm not doing another nearly 5 hours of work on an empty stomach. I got a phone call from my manager saying don't come in the front entrance, he's still there. Apparently while I was on break he came into the store and was asking where the young lady who served him earlier was. Apparently he was trying to say I'd made a mistake on the register and he needed to know when I'd be back so he could ask me about it. Obviously, at this point, the manager says,

look, you're harassing one of my staff. Leave her alone. Don't come back. Then apparently, he was still waiting outside the store when I was due to get off a break. I had to go around the back again. Since then, he's appeared another Saturday. I work Saturdays, and he knows that. Apparently, no one sees a peep of him throughout the week so

he literally only comes in to creep on me. Yesterday he was waiting around the road that we got up to use the back entrance so he's obviously figured out where that is. It was around 8.50 at this point and I start at 9. One of my colleagues saw him and phoned me to let me know. While he was hovering there I snuck in the front entrance. He seems to come in, hover around the tills, try to talk to me, then basically run when someone goes to get management. Some weirdo has been following me on Instagram. New accounts with zero followers and no profile picture. Every time I block them a new one starts following me.

I reckon it's him, he knew my name from the receipt and we have a staff schedule up in the store which has our surnames on it. It would have been too hard for him to find mine. My Instagram is also my first name and surname so pretty straightforward. Before I made my account private and blocked all of those accounts, I got a message from one saying, I just wanted to let you know you're beautiful, with a heart and water squirting emoji. My manager had contacted the police, but as you can imagine, it's not high on the priority list. He hasn't threatened me or done anything. I now have to get my mom to pick me up and take me to work, plus I take

packed lunches and don't go out on my break anymore. Hopefully he'll get the hint soon, or the police will sort it out, but it might take a while. I'm just so sick of having to deal with this in my own workplace. I work at a busy company in Orlando, right in the heart of I-Drive.

If you're not familiar with the area, that is short for International Drive, which is short for Taurus Central. This meant that I tended to work a lot of nights which my husband was never fond of. A couple of my co-workers had some weird experiences in our parking lot so we always left after 10pm with another person so we had someone when we walked to our car. Us females definitely made sure to do so as well. This night in particular I closed the store at around 1.30am and was walking to my car, waving goodnight to a co-worker with one hand and already dialing my husband's number in the other. Though we only lived about 25 minutes away from my job, we both liked to call one another when

we were leaving, whenever we were so we could let the other know of the expected arrival. Plus on nights I closed it was nice to fill him in on the night's adventures and current gossip. This is also a good time to mention that I lived in a not-so-great part of Orlando. When I moved there for school, we moved into one of the cheapest apartments we could find, which incidentally meant moving into the ghetto. I didn't mind it much overall, our neighbors were nice, and the apartment was affordable for the time being. As I continued my drive home I became occupied with complaining about my long shift and how I would not be home until about 2am.

I turned on the usual side street that connected two state roads and right at the end of this road was my complex. This road usually only lasts about 8 minutes and it ran through a run down neighborhood but I always got a bit of excitement turning down it because it was my last turn meaning I was almost home. As I'm driving down this windy empty road, out of the corner of my eye I notice movement of another car. As I mentioned before this road ran straight through a neighborhood which also held an endless amount of side roads on it that led to loops and circles that were littered with houses. It's very dark only lit by my headlights and the dim street lights but I can see a van heading my

way out of one side of the street not even 15 feet in front of me. This next part happened so fast I had no idea how to react. I see shadows inside the van and the passenger in driver's seat then suddenly there is a man hanging out of the passenger side window with a pistol. He fires off multiple shots straight at a corner house directly next to me at this point. My heart drops and all I can say is oh my god. My husband has stolen the phone with me and actually heard the gunshots. He becomes frantic, asking me what happened and if I'm okay. All I can mutter is, I just saw a drive-by. As I pass by the house where the shooting happened, the driver of their van pulls out to know into the road I am driving down and flies right up behind me. At this point my heart is racing. The attackers are right behind

me and the only vehicle on the road and the only witness to their crime. I tell my husband they are behind me and he quickly talks me down and tries to calm me. My eyes can't stop shifting between my rear view mirror and the road in front of me. The van behind me is swerving back and forth on the road, falling a few feet behind me then back up at my bumper again. I say out loud that I don't know what to do and my husband tells me if they continue to follow me to go to our local police station. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the driver whips to the left and down a road deeper into the neighborhood, leaving me alone on the road once more. I was home within minutes, and my husband was just as shaken up as me, saying that he can still hear those gunshots from the other end of the phone, waiting for what felt like an eternity for me to say something and tell him what happened. I saw police there the next morning when I went to work but I never found out how bad or fatal the shooting was. I've since

moved from that neighborhood and will hopefully never have to witness a drive-by eight minutes from my home again. Hey friends, thanks for listening. Be sure to subscribe and click that To be continued... on the next video. And join my Discord to interact with me and other listeners directly. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. And check out the Let's Read podcast, where you can hear all these stories

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