Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 167 - He's Following Me

Summary

Podcast Summary: "Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 167 - He's Following Me"

Host/Author: Being Scared
Release Date: May 28, 2025
Description: TRUE scary stories and ambient rain sounds. Download the CHILLING app for more: chilling.app.link/chillingall

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1. Introduction

Skipping the introductory segments as per instructions, the episode delves directly into chilling narratives intertwined with the soothing sound of rain.

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2. "He's Following Me"

Narrative Overview:

The episode opens with a harrowing true story of a graduate student who becomes the target of a relentless stalker during her first week in a new college town. The absence of a personal cell phone heightens her vulnerability as the stalker, who she later identifies as Aaron Lee Skeen, employs terrifying tactics to instill fear and attempt to force her into pulling over.

Key Points:

• Initial Encounter: While shopping for school supplies, the narrator notices a truck trailing her. Despite being in a relationship and attempting to ignore the driver, his persistent and unsettling behavior escalates her fear.

• Escalation of Fear: The stalker's aggressive driving—swerving close, speeding up near her bumper, and making unnerving stops—intensifies her anxiety. A particularly disturbing moment occurs when she catches him masturbating at a red light, revealing his perverse enjoyment of her terror ([06:30]).

• Attempts to Escape: Desperate to lose him, she employs various driving maneuvers, including speeding through intersections and faking signals, but the stalker remains undeterred, eventually following her to a supermarket with a police station in hopes of finding safety.

• Police Involvement: After filing a report and seeking a police escort, she discovers through surveillance footage that the stalker had been following her from the store. Despite identifying his vehicle and recalling partial license plate details, law enforcement is unable to take action due to insufficient evidence, leading her to switch vehicles for safety.

• Long-term Impact: Fifteen years later, upon viewing a documentary about Sandy Jeffers' murder, she realizes the stalker was Aaron Lee Skeen. Disillusioned by the previous lack of justice, she contacts the investigator from the case. While he cannot confirm her suspicions, it's revealed that Skeen was convicted and sentenced, though she laments that he had prior offenses and his release reignites her trauma. The story concludes with Skeen evading parole, leaving the protagonist haunted by the unresolved fears and the ensuing nightmares ([10:24]).

Notable Quotes:

• "My skin still crawls thinking about this guy." ([00:42])
• "Since the surveillance video didn't catch him doing anything particularly unlawful and it was a losing case to try to charge him with anything." ([09:50])
• "He was released six months after his conviction for some reason or another on parole. He immediately disappeared and fled from his parole officer and sex offender registry." ([15:50])

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3. "Lucy"

Narrative Overview:

The second story introduces a male narrator recounting his tumultuous relationship with a girl named Lucy during his high school years. What begins as an awkward romance quickly devolves into manipulation, abuse, and relentless stalking, leaving the narrator with lasting psychological scars.

Key Points:

• Initial Meeting: The protagonist meets Lucy under peculiar circumstances on a bus, later becoming entwined in her friend group without ever learning her real name ([16:23]).

• Developing Relationship: As their relationship progresses, Lucy's behavior becomes increasingly controlling and invasive. She overshares personal struggles without reciprocating, leading to emotional strain ([16:37]).

• Abusive Behavior: Physical and emotional abuse escalates from playful slaps to violent shoves, culminating in a hallway incident where Lucy shoves him into a wall after a bad joke ([18:44]).

• Breakup Attempts: Multiple attempts to end the relationship are thwarted by Lucy's sob stories, keeping the narrator trapped in a cycle of abuse and manipulation.

• Stalking After Breakup: Even after the relationship ostensibly ends, Lucy turns into a persistent stalker—frequenting his workplace, unsettling colleagues, and infiltrating his daily life to the point of obsession ([23:14]).

• Psychological Decline: The narrator's mental health deteriorates as he grapples with fear, identity issues, and the blurring lines between victim and perpetrator, ultimately leading to a breakdown where he mirrors Lucy's stalking behavior before regaining consciousness to face his lingering fears ([28:12]).

Notable Quotes:

• "Lucy always had a crude sense of humor, but after a while, things started getting hurtful." ([18:42])
• "She invaded my privacy. The second weird thing happened when I tried to wake her on the bus..." ([21:08])
• "I kept track of his location using the sex offender registry. He had his relations with the child years prior." ([25:00])

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4. "The $3,000 Airbnb" by Christopher Maximum

Narrative Overview:

The final story, narrated by Christopher Maximum, details a terrifying experience at an exorbitantly priced Airbnb on a secluded Cape Cod island. The protagonist encounters supernatural phenomena, strict and cryptic rules imposed by the host Garrett, and confrontations with dark entities tied to personal tragedy.

Key Points:

• Arrival at the Airbnb: Christopher arrives at a secluded island Airbnb, greeted by Garrett, the host, who presents a mysterious set of rules that hint at ominous consequences for non-compliance ([40:37]).

• Creepy Atmosphere: The first night is productive until late hours when adherence to the rules becomes challenging. Strange occurrences—banging at the door, disembodied voices, and apparitions of his deceased daughter Leslie—intensify his fear ([5:19am]).

• Supernatural Rules: The rules include avoiding lights after a specific time, not answering the phone, limiting occupancy, and interacting only with specified individuals, all of which serve to trap the protagonist within the house's supernatural constraints.

• Encounter with Hank: A locksmith named Hank arrives unexpectedly, revealing discrepancies in his identity and further complicating the supernatural events. Jessica Covenwood, another key figure, assists Christopher in attempting to escape the house's malevolent grip ([88:17]).

• Emotional Turmoil: The protagonist grapples with guilt over his daughter's death, which is intricately tied to the house's dark forces. Emotional breakdowns and vivid nightmares blur the line between reality and supernatural influence ([11:38pm]).

• Climactic Confrontations: As the rental period nears its end, Christopher faces escalating threats from entities like Jessica, leading to a final showdown where he must follow precise instructions to deactivate the house's energy and confront the manifestations of his guilt and loss ([1:36am]).

• Resolution: After a harrowing week, following the rules meticulously finally brings peace. The experience serves as a form of catharsis, allowing Christopher to come to terms with his past and find closure, albeit with lingering trauma ([88:17]).

Notable Quotes:

• "This house has been in my family for generations. Staying here can be a rewarding experience, but it can also be a dreadful one if you're not careful." ([40:37])
• "Do not answer your phone. Callers cannot be trusted." ([rules section])
• "Jessica and I made love." ([5:32am] - signifies a moment of vulnerability and connection amid chaos)
• "Follow the rules, Jack. If you don't, you're in for a bumpy ride." ([greeting and rules])

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5. Conclusion

The episode masterfully intertwines multiple chilling narratives, each exploring themes of stalking, manipulation, supernatural hauntings, and personal trauma. Through detailed storytelling and evocative quotes, listeners are immersed in tales that blend real-world fears with otherworldly horrors, all set against the backdrop of calming rain sounds to heighten the eerie atmosphere.

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Closing Note:
For more spine-tingling stories and ambient rain sounds, don’t forget to download the CHILLING app here.

Transcript

[Narrator]

Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain.

[Listener]

Before we begin, be sure to check.

[Narrator]

Out my brand new podcast, Scary Stories and Fire. If you would prefer the same great stories but with a super relaxing campfire background, the link is in the description.

[Listener]

Also, if you haven't yet, I highly.

[Narrator]

Recommend you subscribe to this podcast.

[Listener]

If you enjoy listening to Relax or.

[Narrator]

Fall Asleep hundreds of hours of stories and rain for 299Amonth that will get you access to all episodes with zero ads. Consider subscribing and I hope you enjoy.

[Listener]

This episode.

[Narrator]

My skin still crawls thinking about this guy. He saw me shopping for school supplies and things from my new apartment one evening during my first week of grad school and decided that I was his mark. I had just moved to my new college town, didn't even have a cell phone yet after leaving the one my folks paid for during undergrad behind, I was grown and could take care of myself. What a nitwit I was. As I left the parking lot with my purchases, I noticed this truck pull up behind me at the exit. It was late and there weren't too many people out. I pulled out and so did he. It was a few miles down a long retail street with lots of shop lights before my turn. As I drove, I realized the guy in the truck was trying to get my attention. I was in a relationship, so I ignored him. Over the next few miles, he kept trying to get me to look at him. Some red lights he would end up ahead of me, some behind or beside. At every light he positioned himself so he could stare at me either directly or in one of his mirrors. His gaze was unwavering and my anxiety rose. He was driving oddly, speeding up close to my bumper, hitting his brakes when he was in front of me, swerving close to my car a couple of times. Finally, at a red light where he was beside me, I glanced over and absolutely started to panic when I was met with an unbelievably empty, unwavering stare and realized he was fiddling with himself. He was getting off on the fact that I was terrified and he was following me and he was trying to force me to pull over. At one point I scooted through an intersection on a hard yellow a couple of cars ahead of him, thinking that I could shake him. Nope. He went around the cars at the light and ran the red and got back in front of me. A freeway entrance ramp came up and I tried to fake him out by putting on my signal and getting into the merge lane for it. He took the bait and started up the ramp. I quickly got out of the merge lane and continued straight again. I had hoped to lose him, but he drove his truck down the embankment to keep following me. At another light where he was beside me, I pulled through the light and then turned. At the last possible second, he made a U turn and ran another red light to follow me. My panic really ramped up at that point. With no cell phone, no sense of direction in a new city, I really didn't know what to do. So I turned on classic rock and forced myself to sing along. And forced myself to go the speed limit so I wouldn't crash. Out of terrified stupidity. I decided to drive to the supermarket across town because I remembered it had a police station in it. He followed me all the way there. He burned out of the lot as soon as he saw all the cop cruisers parked out front. I filed a report and asked for a police escort home. I insisted because something told me this creep was waiting for me to leave the police station. He was. As soon as I pulled out, I saw him. I pulled over and told the officer following me and he went after him. But the truck had taken off and the cop could couldn't catch him. The police got the surveillance video from the first store. It turned out this jerk had been following me the entire time I was shopping. I saw him on surveillance footage following me through the store. I saw him follow me out close enough to grab my elbow. I saw footage of him circling the lot in his truck waiting for me to pull out. When I took too long to unload my cart, my heart sank. I was able to remember six of seven digits of his plate and the make and model of his truck. In the end, the cops did nothing. They said that it was a he said, she said. Since the surveillance video didn't catch him doing anything particularly unlawful and it was a losing case to try to charge him with anything. I ended up trading vehicles with a friend for a couple of months to try to feel safer and went on with my life. I had no idea what this disgusting piece of crap did. Just a handful of months later, until almost 15 years had passed. I was watching a Discovery ID show about the kidnapping and murder of Sandy Jeffers. I almost fell out of my seat when I saw the mugshot of her killer, Aaron Lee Skeen. It was him. I was so disgusted that law enforcement did nothing in my case that I tracked down the investigator in the murder case and after verifying some things about his vehicle that were changed in the TV reenactment to weed out people making crap up. She took my contact info and official statement. She could neither confirm nor deny that my run in was with Skene, but qualified her statement by saying at least you don't have to worry about him anymore because he got life without parole. I only wish something could have been done when he terrorized me. Perhaps things would have been different for Sandy I grew up in a small town in the Midwest where you left your doors unlocked and came home when the street lights turn on at dusk. After moving away for college, I decided to move back to my quiet, sleepy hometown in one of the two apartment buildings. I am living there for roughly three months when one night I go to sleep early on a Friday night. Now, I am a reasonably hard sleeper, so when I awake in the middle of the night to noises, I am immediately alarmed. I'm going to describe my apartment layout for a better understanding. As you walk in the front door, the kitchen is to the left and the living room to the right. There's a hallway straight ahead and one bedroom at the end. A bathroom is to the left in the hall and my bedroom to the right. I get up from my bed, walk around the end of my bed and peek my head out of the bedroom door. I look to the left to see my front door open to the outside hallway. There's a loud voice coming from the enlightened kitchen. From my vantage point, I am unable to see into my kitchen. I froze this fact I have left out of telling this story since it's not something I'm very proud of, but I want to relay this story in its entirety. It may have only been a couple of heartbeats, but to me it felt like an eternity. I come to my senses after realizing that I have stopped unconsciously breathing. I take a shallow breath to steady my mind and gather my bravery. There is no thought process about what to do at this point. I let my body and my instincts take over. I turn around and head back to the far side of my bed. I grab my phone from the nightstand and quietly remove it from the charger. Luckily, my bed frame is high enough for me to squeeze under without much difficulty. I immediately realize that there is no escape from my hiding spot. If things turn south, I'll have to rely on luck to get me through this. I dial 911 and a woman answers and asks about my emergency. I briefly explain in a whisper that an unknown man is in my apartment and that I am currently safe. I lay there listening to the chaos in my home, reassured by the presence of my cat, Marcy Laying under the bed with me. It seems to me that he's on a phone call. Based on the one sided rambling. I tell the operator this fact and explain my fear that he's going to bring other people into my home. He was making enough sound to allow me to give play by play on the call. He starts screaming about killing someone. I am unsure at this point whether he's talking to the person on the phone or if he knows I'm there. The voice is unfamiliar, but this does little to ease my terror. He then starts ringing the doorbell in the outside hallway and yelling for me to come out. My blood runs cold as I realized that he might come to try and find me. Marcy is alarmed by the doorbell that has not ceased ringing and she creeps out from under the bed. I panic. What if he hurts her? I start whispering as loudly as possible to get her attention without letting him know my location. She senses my unease and crawls back under the bed with me. At this point it's felt like an eternity and I asked the operator how long until the police arrive. She is unsure but assures me that they are on their way. My town is roughly a 30 minute drive to the nearest city police, but I assume there's a highway patrol that would be coming soon. Little did I know that safety was in no rush to get to me. I hear him walking around my apartment and enters my extra bedroom which is my storage room with a bed. He hasn't stopped yelling. I am still unaware whether he is on the phone or not. I hear him mention that it must be a kid's room. I shush the operator because he has ceased his screaming for the moment. I hear more noises like he is going through boxes and throwing things. Then my fear is realized as I hear him quietly enter my room. I see his feet walk to my closet. From my vantage point. He starts going through my clothes and emptying my hamper onto the floor. He turns around and walks to my bed and sits down.

[Listener]

Down.

[Narrator]

I stopped breathing. I think he lays down at this point since the pressure of the bed lessens on top of me. He's deadly silent and I'm still holding my breath. There's shuffling and moving around and he gets up and walks out of my room. I take a shallow breath and steady my conviction. He starts making noise again like he's throwing and punching things. I inform the operator that he was just in my room and the police need to hurry. I don't know how long I can keep Marcy under the bed and Concerned about what could happen if he finds me, he walks back into the kids room quietly. I shush the operator again because she is continuously asking me for a play by play. I hear him breathing from the other room. After the quietest few minutes of my life, he yells, who's there? I freeze again, listening for movement. Nothing. I'm starting to get lightheaded from my shallow breathing. The silence is deafening and I fear he's trying to detect me after a lifetime. I hear footsteps entering my apartment. I hear a man's voice say, hey bud, you're in the wrong house. I have never felt more relief in my life before this night or since.

[Listener]

Since.

[Narrator]

I hear my door close and I crawl out from under the bed and break down. The adrenaline and anxiety take over as soon as the feeling of safety washes over me. A female officer comes around to my side of the bed and puts her hands on my shoulders. I'm trying to keep it together and failing miserably. She let me put clothes on and I could hear three male voices coming from my apartment. The woman left and came back with a handful of clothes, asking if any weren't mine. They all were and I answered in kind. She shut the door behind her as she left again. I turned and looked out my window and see no lights from the cop car on the street. I look at my phone and realize the call to 911 took 19 minutes. I can't explain the feelings I had at this time since many hit me all at once. The door opened and the officer motioned to have me exit. Taking a first look at my home was almost as anxious as the event itself. My apartment was a complete mess. Clothes were everywhere, mixed with garbage and other belongings from my shelves and counters. This man had removed items that he intended on taking and placed them in the outside hallway. They tell me that they had found him on the floor in the second room, completely naked, holding a bottle of lotion in his vicinity. There was a winter hat and an unknown substance inside. The officer was kind enough to throw that in the garbage bag immediately. They tell me to look to see if any of the clothes in the apartment do not belong to me. I tell them no. This man entered my home completely naked and destroyed my home. I noticed that the lid of my garbage can was filled with cat poop. It seems that it had been separated from the rest of the bag. The rest of the garbage was littering the outside hallway. They asked me if I would like to stay here or go elsewhere. Thankfully, my parents lived down the street and I had an officer drive me there. I explained to my parents what had just happened and in the next few days I have to explain this situation to what felt like half the town. The ridiculousness of this story catches people's attention and becomes a slight joke. I play along attempting to be light hearted, but I am unable to disassociate from the horror that I faced now. I should feel better knowing that he is in custody, but the events after the break in do little to comfort me. An officer shows up with a subpoena to appear in court to testify, but I receive a call for a postponement. I just wanted this to be behind me. After a month I call the phone number on the paper I received and ask when they are rescheduling for since I hadn't heard anything. The woman informs me that they mailed another and I had not shown up. I asked where was it sent since I have not received a summons. She tells me that they sent it to my address but the wrong town. How can they not know where I live? The crime happened there. She tells me that he pled guilty and was given 180 days. I was furious this man would get out in a short eight weeks for attempting to steal and entering my home. She reassured me that he also received another 180 for a previous bench warrant he had. What justice is there that someone with priors gets a short three months for traumatizing a stranger? After his release, I kept track of his location using the sex offender registry. He had his relations with the child years prior. It makes his statement about the kid's room even more unsettling. He was arrested yet again for a fourth DUI shortly after his release and sentenced to five years with two suspended. I was happy for a while. My nightmares hadn't ended, but the tension I felt during my waking hours lessened. It has been two years since this happened and I have since moved three times. I don't know if I'll ever be content and happy anywhere, but I am hoping that is not the case. He was released six months after his conviction for some reason or another on parole. He immediately disappeared and fled from his parole officer and sex offender registry. I am hoping to someday grow out of the nightmares.

[Listener]

I met Lucy for the first time when she fell asleep on my arm on the bus. When she woke up, she gave me a really weird look before shambling off the bus.

[Narrator]

I figured she was weirded out that.

[Listener]

I didn't wake her sooner.

[Narrator]

So I kicked myself for being a.

[Listener]

Creep and went on with My day can't win em all. I was thrown for a hell of a loop when her whole friend group.

[Narrator]

Was sitting by my usual spot on the bus the next day. Being an awkward teen, I wasn't about to turn down any kind of positive attention. I got to know her friends and ended up on good terms with her before I realized I hadn't asked her name. I'm hard of hearing, so I did not hear her when she said her name. Lucy, right? Yeah. Lucy and I had your typical high school courting process. That is to say, she was overwhelmingly forward, and after a few weeks, I got the hint. As we were getting close, Lucy would fixate on learning about past heartbreak and finding out about my personal life. I am a serial oversharer, so I didn't really mind talking about myself, but she would constantly butt in by saying how messed up things were. I was weirded out. Even at 16, I knew that was.

[Listener]

Cringy and I was going through my emo phase.

[Narrator]

The next thing that really bugged me.

[Listener]

At the time was that she would.

[Narrator]

Ask so much about me, but she would never say anything about herself. It made me feel crappy, always venting and never helping her out. During this time, she missed a few days and I let another girl sit by me since it was an overcrowded bus and I didn't think it mattered. When Lucy came back and saw me with another girl, you'd think she was shot. She just about ran to the seat behind us and started going off. I cannot remember exactly what Lucy said, but the other girl never talked to me again after that. Once her rival was gone, Lucy reclaimed her spot next to me and all was sunshine and rainbows. Nobody ever asked to sit in Lucy's spot after that. Lucy always had a crude sense of humor, but after a while, things started getting hurtful. She would take jabs at my insecurities, and anytime I got upset about it, she would give me crap for not.

[Listener]

Being able to take a joke.

[Narrator]

These jokes, quote unquote, usually stopped just shy of outright insulting me. When Lucy wasn't breaking me down, she was super affectionate. She would sleep on my chest while we rode home on the bus, and she would even talk about herself from time to time. I don't remember the first time she hit me. It seems like something that would be burned into my memory, some kind of cinematic moment in my life. Honestly, it all just blended together after a while. I know it started off small though, flicking me and playful slapping. By the end of it, she would elbow me in the ribs for telling a bad joke. It didn't register as anything abusive until she slammed me into a wall while we were walking through the hallway after class. I told a bad joke and she shoved me hard into the wall. She laughed because of the sound I made before shoving me again. People were going through the halls with us, but they didn't do anything. Sometimes I wonder what they thought of me. I didn't dump her after the hallway incident, but I did start standing up for myself. We started getting into a lot of fights after that. Of course, they only ever ended in one of two ways. She was right or it was an honest mistake, quote unquote. I tried to break things off a few times around that time, but every time I did, she had a new sob story that I hadn't heard before that made her actions totally understandable. I let it get to my head that she was some tragic soul and that I could help her. I convinced myself there was something noble about taking the abuse and nobody I knew tried to step in and stop me. I finally got the nerve to dump her after three major things happened within a three week span. First, I found out she was taking pictures of me while I wasn't looking and posting them online. The weird thing was that I only found out because she showed me. It felt gross seeing a bunch of nearly identical pictures of me not facing the camera. The way she showed me was worse. She seemed excited, like I would be happy. She invaded my privacy. The second weird thing happened when I tried to wake her on the bus after about a half hour on my chest not saying anything. I nudged her shoulder since we were at our stop and she just got.

[Listener]

Up, looked at me in the eye.

[Narrator]

And told me she wasn't asleep. Combined with the pictures, this seemed really weird. She didn't try to be cute or romantic about it or anything. Just I pretend to sleep on you sometimes.

[Listener]

Like what the hell.

[Narrator]

The breaking point came when she was showing off some award she got from school. There was something off about the award. It didn't have her name on it. Oh no, it had a name. It even had a picture of her smiling on it. The problem is, is it wasn't addressed to a Lucy. You can't imagine what I felt when I found out I didn't know my girlfriend's name. A few days later we got into one of our usual fights and I broke things off. Lucy always was the persistent type. She would sit a few rows behind me on the bus and stare at me while I went to my car. After getting off the bus. Looking at her wouldn't make her stop. It felt like she wanted me to know she was watching me. One day when she got on the bus, she looked me right in the eyes for a solid 20 seconds while she walked past me to her new seat. I am pretty sure she was expecting me to say something. The next year I graduated and got a retail job. End of the story, right? Wrong. It was the start of Christmas season season and I was working cashier. That night, Lucy came into the store I was working at by random chance. It had been a year and a half since we broke up at this point, so I wasn't happy to see her. But surely we could pretend it wasn't weird. She gave me the look the squirrel in ice age gives his nut. She grabbed something from the front and went right into my line. She didn't say a word to me, but she wouldn't break eye contact and she was swaying like an excited toddler. It hurt to look at her. I rang her up silently and waited for her to leave.

[Listener]

Then I looked at the other cashier.

[Narrator]

For support and he told me she was giving her weird vibes. I got this really bad gut feeling. After she left, Lucy became a regular at our little shop. She would come in and creep out my co workers. Lucy never really tried to hide what she was doing. One of the cashiers mentioned how often she came while ringing her out and she just said she was visiting me. She didn't say my name, but she described me. After that. Whenever she showed up, someone would make a note of it on the radio. She was usually in one of the areas bordering my workspace. I heard about her a lot more than I saw her, so I think she was hiding from me. She never got banned from the store despite complaints because the managers were penny pinching assholes who would sell any one of us to get sales up. I know Lucy was responsible for at least one resignation from my workplace. Someone who looked like me caught her staring a few times and heard how often she came. After a while, the stress just wasn't worth minimum wage. The last time I saw Lucy at the store was a little over a year ago. I was hanging out with one of the girls in the back while we were loading up carts with stuff that we had in stock. We were right by the back entrance so you could see right from the store proper.

[Listener]

I left to put up the stuff in my cart.

[Narrator]

When I came back and saw her, she was standing. Standing about 40ft from the back entrance, still as a statue. I froze when I saw her. I watched her stare into the back for what felt like hours before she suddenly turned and walked briskly away. The girl I was talking to was still in the back when I got back. She was a lot more awkward after that. The girl quit three days later and just about crushed my ribs when she hugged me goodbye. She hated her job, so I'd like to think it didn't have anything to do with Lucy, but I truly don't know. I left the store not too long after that and got a job that didn't involve customer service. That was not the last time I saw her though. Over the summer after taking my new job, I had a mental breakdown. I convinced myself that I was unlovable and that Lucy was the only person I could possibly be with. I left the house without any conceivable plan to find her. With stars in the sky lit by street lamps, I saw her. She was with another girl. I got so close I could almost touch her before I snapped to my senses. I thought about her stalking me at the store and I realized I was becoming her. I ran home. I cried that night. The last time I saw Lucy was last week. I was walking home from work and decided to stop for dinner. I thought I saw her in line but convinced myself it was someone else. I ordered and sat down to eat. I was looking out the window while I ate and she took the table between me and the window. I was looking out. She was with some guy that looked vaguely familiar, maybe a school friend. She sat at an angle so she was half looking at him and every few seconds she would look right at me. I know it was her. She changed her hair. It looks an awful lot like mine now. After I finished, I went to the bathroom because I felt sick. After washing my hands, I looked into the mirror and I felt like I could die. It hadn't occurred to me before, but I was, well, wearing my work uniform complete with company name on my hat. In big letters she was reading my hat. Lucy hasn't been to my current job yet, but I am sure she'll turn up eventually. I am moving soon, so I am just hoping I am not here anymore when Lucy turns up. Lucy has been a part of my life for the last four years. We dated for four months in high school school and she keeps turning up. I wasn't a paragon of mental health before I met her, but I felt like she broke me as a person and I will never forgive her for what she did to me. Since her abuse and her stalking I have developed serious trust issues. I get painfully nervous leaving my house and people who show interest in me.

[Listener]

Immediately put me on edge.

[Narrator]

I have tried to date since everything happened, but I just can't. I am too much work at this point. So I have decided that I will stay single until I can work through my issues. I really hope I never see Lucy again. This happened about a year ago.

[Listener]

I was on Tinder looking for either fun dates or new friendships.

[Narrator]

I was scrolling and I received a new message from a guy who we'll call Brian.

[Listener]

I took a look at some of.

[Narrator]

His profile pictures, read his bio and decided that I was interested in him. We started messages back and forth and he seemed to be a really kind, charismatic guy who really knew how to hold a conversation. A few days went by and we eventually exchanged numbers. He seemed nice enough and I wanted to see if he was as great in person as he was over text message.

[Listener]

So I asked him if he wanted.

[Narrator]

To go on a date with me. He very happily agreed.

[Listener]

So I scheduled a date. The plan was that I was going.

[Narrator]

To drive to his place, pick him up and we'd grab some lattes at my favorite local coffee shop. It was around 6pm and I sent him a text message to tell him that I was leaving my house, to which he responded with a quaint I can't wait to meet you. I smiled at his supposed kindness. Then, in the middle of driving to his house, I received a phone call from him. So I picked up and the conversation went mostly as follows. Hey Brian, what's up?

[Listener]

Hey, quick change, change of plans.

[Narrator]

I'm feeling tired and I would rather not go out. Would you be okay with staying at my place? We can watch some shows or order some takeout. I mean, that's not really what I had in mind. I like to go out and do things on the first date. Oh, don't be such a buzz kill. Just come over. I won't show you a bad time. As he spoke on the phone, I got a really strange feeling in my gut. Like something was wrong about how he talked to to me before I met him. I imagined his voice and inflections to sound a lot more light hearted because the way we texted was very whimsical and fun. But over the phone he talked as if he was in a hurry, perhaps slightly frantic. However, despite my gut feeling, I decided that I would accept his offer. Maybe he was just tired or stressed from the workday. I pulled into his driveway and he greeted me at his door. He looked like his picture and he was very handsome. He was wearing fashionable glasses and his dark straight hair contrasted with his light skin. When we go inside, I was greeted by one of his roommates who was playing Dark Souls in the living room. I wanted to be polite, so I approached the roommate and introduced myself. I didn't want to come off as rude to Brian in case this date ended up going really well. While I am talking with his roommate, Brian calls my name and beckons me to walk inside his bedroom. I politely excuse myself and follow Brian into his room. When I walk inside, I saw something straight out of a horror story, only this was real and right in front of me. There were candles lit all around, and when I got a closer look, I noticed that there were several altars scattered across the room. Effigies of ancient looking figures, animal bones, jars with unidentifiable liquids inside. Some sort of dagger next to a cat's skull, the whole shebang. I don't remember all the altars, but I do remember a couple. One of them was on the floor and there was a glass container that held some kind of yellow liquid with animal skulls surrounding the container. Another altar was on a shelf next to his bed. And this one had a few candles surrounding some kind of doll with its eyes sewn shut and its hands missing. Now that one was creepy and super bizarre. A part of me was telling me to nope out of there immediately. But I thought that maybe I was overreacting to someone's religious choices. I didn't know much about cult religions, so I didn't want to assume that this guy had any kind of mal intent. Plus, I can be a little reactive at times. So I decided to stay and go along with the ride. When we walked into his room, I wanted to calm my nerves. And because I have a really curious mind, I decided to ask Brian what these altars were for. He told me that he would tell me about them later. A weird response, but again I brushed it off my shoulders, thinking that he might just be a bit eccentric. I can be a little weird too, so I tried to be empathetic and understanding. Then I point to one of the altars and ask about it. He frowns at me and scowls. Don't touch that. His voice startled me. His intent inflections paired with his angry expression sent a lump straight to my throat and I felt threatened. I was almost 4ft away from the altar, not even close to touching it, and yet he had just yelled at me like a father yelling at his kid to stop messing around at church. I was Confused and thinking that I had done something wrong, I apologized in the blink of an eye. His scowl turned into a smile and he kindly invited me to sit with him to watch a show. What really weirded me out was the fact that his smile looked and felt genuine. He had just gotten angry, but all of a sudden he didn't care and served me up a really kind disposition. I was unsure of how to process what had just happened, so I just decided to sit down with him. He seemed to be acting pretty normal once this ordeal had happened and we started to talk about ourselves. After some time he became really sweet and soft spoken, similar to how he was over text message and we were able to share some stories about our lives. It was starting to feel like an actual first date and my nerves subsided a bit. I was probably just overthinking everything else. He then turns on his tv. Now mind you, I was still a little freaked out by his random outburst, so I was on guard. So I offered to invite his roommate to come and hang out with us. Brian's roommate said seemed like any old average Joe when I met him and I just wanted someone else to be there to act as a buffer. I wanted to see how he would act around other people. But when I gave him my idea, he immediately shut me down and his personality switched from easygoing to stressed and angry. He started cussing out his roommate to me, making it clear that he absolutely hated him. The switch was so jarring I started to panic again. Then he changed the subject and started to talk about me. He said that he found me really attractive and in the process his figure started to graze my thighs. I needed a second to collect myself though, so I excused myself to get some water. When I stood up, he immediately slapped my ass and told me not to take too long. I walked out, closed the door behind me and started to make my way for the kitchen. I was hoping to chat with his roommate on the way and see if I could ask him about Brian, but he was asleep on the living room couch, so I just made a beeline to the cabinets in search of a cup. I thought about walking out and driving home because I didn't appreciate his sudden touchiness. But I started getting paranoid. He had all those altars and he didn't tell me what the altars were for. I have seen some horror films about the occult and I truly had no idea what this guy was capable of. Yeah, he was sweet at times, but he was showing me some really aggressive behavior. Who's to say that this guy Isn't able to put some kind of voodoo curse on me. Dramatic, I know, but you can never really be sure. So I grab my water and cautiously head back to his room. When I walk back inside, I saw him sitting on the couch with his legs crisscrossed and his eyes closed. When I approached him, I saw his mouth moving, but I didn't hear anything coming from it. Weirded out by this, I called his name, but he didn't respond. Strange. I called his name a second time and he opened his eyes, uncrossed his legs and went back to watching the TV without at all addressing what he was doing. What the hell? I was getting really worried, but I did what I could to keep my cool. I didn't want to do anything to upset him or make him lose his cool. I sat next to him on the couch and we started talking. Once again, he was completely normal. Unnervingly normal. It's like I was in the room with a real life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Except Brian was able to switch between them seamlessly. I needed to do something, but what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't call him out because he might lash out in some malicious way. But I also didn't want to stay because he was freaking me the hell out. I just stayed and I tried to devise some kind of plan to get out of there without making him angry. At some point, he gets up to grab his phone. I thought I would try dishing out the same kind of ass grab that he gave to me when I went to get water. Water. Maybe it would release the tension that I was feeling. Maybe he'd like it and it would make him less aggressive. Regardless, I wanted to try something. I made my move and gave him a cheeky ass grab. Immediately, he turned around, swatted my hand away and lunged at me. He had his hand curled up in a fist and he flung it towards my face. His fist was inches away from making a connection with my right chest cheek. But he stopped mid punch. In that moment, I saw that his eyes were wide open and his facial expression was cold and emotionless. He was right in my face. My heart was beating so fast that I felt like I was seconds away from an aneurysm. He was looking directly at me and my eyes stared back. At that moment, I felt like the prey to his predator. Then he uncurled his fist, put his icy hands on both sides of my face and started to squeeze. You're just so cute. He pulled me in and forced a kiss I absolutely did not want to kiss him, but I was paralyzed and I couldn't will myself to push him away. His words were patronizing, sort of like he was talking to a dog, and it felt even more like this because he had just scrunched my face against his. I felt disgusting kissing someone that had almost punched me in the face, but there was nothing I could do in that moment. Again, I didn't want to risk pissing him off. He slowly pulled away, gave me another sweet smile and sat down, pretending that nothing had just happened. Just started staring at the tv. Yep, I'm over this completely. His behavior was becoming more erratic and more unpredictable. His room was creepy as hell, he clearly had associations with the occult and frankly, he was scaring me. I eventually decided that I would rather deal with the voodoo looking alters later on than stay in his house and have to put up with the immediate danger. So I snapped myself out of my anxiety induced trance, stood up and told him that I was starting to get sick and that I wanted to go home. He got angry and tried to convince me to stay the night, but I gathered my courage and insisted that it was time for me to leave. He begrudgingly let me, but it was clear that my decision pissed him off. I didn't care anymore. I said goodbyes and told him that I would text him later, thinking f that to myself. While doing so, I got in my car and drove home shaking and sweating. I felt relieved to get out of there but nervous that he might try to do something. The uncertainty of it all is what truly shakes me up, but thankfully no actual harm came to me. Who knows what would have happened if I had stayed though? I blocked Brian's number as well as his Tinder profile and even now I keep my own Tinder pictures private. I haven't heard from him since, but I still fear that he is going to try and come after Me Somehow.

[Listener]

The $3,000 Airbnb by Christopher Maximum I stood still for a moment, awestruck. The pictures didn't do it justice. It was a large but quaint home located on a secluded island near Cape Cod. A small piece of land void of life. Only the cottage and a lighthouse visible across the water verified as an Airbnb plus rental. One week's rent came to a little over $3,000. The price was steep but completely worth it. This would be the best place to clear my head and finish writing my novel. I happily trotted across the stone walkway to the front door and grabbed the knob, ready to map out the rest of my book. It would be my second release. My publisher had been breathing down my neck for months, constantly asking for updates. Now I had the perfect environment to complete it. Upon opening the door, I was caught off guard. Hello. I nearly jumped out of my skin. There was a man inside. Late 50s, average build, gray mustache. It took me a moment to match the face to the one on his super host profile. It was Garrett, the owner of the property. Sorry, Garrett. You startled me. I didn't expect anyone to be here. He smiled. I greet all my guests. You people are my livelihood, after all. Please come in. I have some important matters to discuss. I joined him in the living room. We sat in armchairs on opposite sides of a long coffee table. Garrett simply continued to smile. So what did you want to discuss? I asked. He pulled a folded sheet of paper out from his jacket and slid it across the coffee table. It stopped in front of me. I picked it up for a closer look. The edges were worn and it felt almost canvas, like between my fingers. I began unfolding, but Garrett stopped me. Don't. You'll have plenty of time for that later. Just listen. I looked up at him, confused but compliant. This house has been in my family for generations. Staying here can be a rewarding experience, but it can also be a dreadful one if you're not careful. Come on, Garrett. Don't tell me the place is haunted. I was the only one smiling now. Garrett looked at me, thoroughly unamused. My smile vanished and I gestured for him to continue. On that sheet of paper are some rules you must follow every last one of them. There are no exceptions. So long as you do this, your vacation will be a pleasant one. With that, Garrett stood up from the chair and walked to the front door. He turned to me on his way out and offered a final sentiment before leaving. Follow the rules, Jack. If you don't, you're in for a bumpy ride. When he left, I unfolded the list, expecting to see a reiteration of his stay record requirements. No pets, no modifications. Clean up after yourself. That sort of thing. This was not the case. On the paper was a set of rules that only served to bookend our strange encounter with further confusion. Number 1 no lights on past 11:25pm Number 2 Do not answer your phone. Callers cannot be trusted. 3 Only two people are permitted inside. Hank Penston and Jessica Covenwood. Ask for last names. 4. Do not exit the house after midnight until sunrise. 5. If your room changes location, close the door and try again. Only leave when connection has been re established. 6. The voices are harmless. Do not converse with them. Number seven Never lock your doors. Number eight if you have any trouble, call Jessica Covenwood at this number. This is the only phone call you can trust. This lifeline may only be used once during your rental period. At the bottom of the page was a final note. I will come to collect you, but only when the rental period is is over, not a moment sooner. There is no leaving until then. As I sat there mulling over the list, it all became clear. Garrett was a lunatic. Either that or this was a poor attempt at humor. Either way, I brushed off our meeting and the list of rules all together, placing the paper on the coffee table where it stayed for the rest of the night. A majority of the first night was peaceful. Of my novel's final six chapters that needed completing, I was able to stay up late and finish two of them first drafts. At least there was still a lot left to do. My final days on the island would have to be spent proofreading the entire manuscript and filling cracks in the narrative before sending it to my editor. Still, two chapters was not a bad night's work, all things considered. After patting myself on the back for a job well done, I looked at my phone. It was 12:18am My lips spread into a slight smile as I looked at the desk, light wavering in and out of Life. It's past 11:25, Garrett. Was this why I needed to turn off the lights so they wouldn't flicker? I chuckled to myself as another rule came to mind. Number four, if I remember correctly, do not exit the house after midnight. I continued to laugh to myself as I ventured downstairs, opened the front door and stepped out into the night. The view was brilliant, a blanket of stars covering the cave, only broken up by the gorgeous lighthouse jutting upward, practically cutting a hole in the night sky. It was a breathtaking sight, well worth the partial advance for the my book. What's the reasoning behind this rule, Garrett? You didn't want me to enjoy the view? I turned and stepped back into the house. I then locked the door. Oops. That's another rule broken. Hope the house doesn't chastise me. With that, I traveled upstairs to the bedroom and fell into a blissful sleep. The moment my body met the sheets, my slumber would not last. 3:27am I awoke to a thunderous banging at the front door. In a groggy slur of motion, my legs just barely managed to pull the rest of my body out of bed. Practically sleepwalking, I eventually made my way downstairs and opened the Door. Outside, there were no longer any stars. Their light was replaced with a thick flame fog rolling over the ocean. The water and air were still frozen in place. There was no one there but me. I closed the door and went back to bed, certain that the sounds I heard were remnants of a dream overlapping with waking life. My body fell onto the bed and sleep took hold once more. 4:42am I awoke again, ripped from a dream state where I was turning in my novel to the publishing house. For whatever reason, in this dream, Garrett was my boss. He held the manuscript to my face and flipped the pages, revealing a lack of ink. There's nothing here, Jack. All that time and nothing to show for it. He continued to flip through before stopping somewhere in the middle. Unlike the other pages, this one had text. The words were familiar, but they weren't written by me. Garrett's rules painted the page, the pitch black ink slowly dripping from the paper. His form soon followed, melting onto the floor below. You should have followed the rules, Jack. That's when I sprung to life, my heart pounding as I sat up in bed. The sound of pages turning rang in my ear, but it hadn't leaked over from my nightmare. Over on the desk was my manuscript, its paper wildly flapping about. My heart nearly sank before I noticed a chill in the room. I had left the window open. It was just the wind. Relieved, I shut the window and went back to sleep. 5:19am no sound woke me this time. Instead, it was nature calling, beckoning me to take a late night trip to the bathroom. Unfortunately for me, this would not be an easy task. Upon opening the bedroom door, I was greeted by a deeply unsettling sight. It was a hallway. Not the hall that should have been there, mind you. An entirely different hallway. Noticeably different. It was narrow, almost too thin for a person to walk through. And it was long. Very long. Seemingly longer than the building itself. Lining the sides was a plethora of doors, more doors than I knew the house to have. It was by all means unexplainable. I rubbed my eyes to test their acuity. The hallway was still there. I wondered further a moment if I was dreaming, but quickly discarded the notion, certain that I could tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't. But if not a dream, then what? With an air of hesitance about me, my feet pattered into the narrow void. I tried each door along the way, but they were all locked halfway in. A harrowing sound cut through the air. I turned my head to see. See that the bedroom door had shut itself Running back and turning the knob was futile. It wouldn't budge. Without a whole lot of options, I continued down the hall. At the end was a final door, different than the rest. Affixed to it was a plaque with a designation like one you might see in a hotel. According to the text, it was room 371. The knob offered no resistance as I turned it and gently pushed the door open. There was no light inside. Still, I could make out something standing in the center of the room, facing me. It was a shadowy figure, slightly darker than the blackness around it. A vague glow outlined its form. It was tall, taller than any man. I had the inclination inclination to close the door and turn back. But fear kept me anchored in place. My breathing became erratic and my heart rate soared to new heights as it took a step towards me. In a flash, it lunged to my position. Everything went black. My eyes opened to sunlight pouring into the room. I was back in bed. This was strange. Every bone in my body told me it wasn't a dream, but rational thinking dictated otherwise. I had no choice but to entertain the idea that I was having vivid night terrors in the face of a fast approaching publishing deadline. The sooner I finished the book, I thought, the sooner they would vanish. Though it didn't sit well with me, it was the only explanation I had. My phone buzzed on the bedside table. I knew who it was, but with the deadline on the horizon, I couldn't afford the distraction. When the buzzing ceased, I crawled out of bed and started the day. My first few hours awake were productive. I was able to write over half of the next chapter and tweak some finer details throughout the rest of the book. My progress was, however, impeded by a knock at the the front door. Unlike the night previous, there was someone out there. A man. Can I help you? I asked, confused. Was hoping I could help you. Actually. My name's Hank. I'm a locksmith from the mainland. Garrett sent me to check the locks on all the doors. I pondered for a moment and then grabbed the list of rules from the coffee table. I looked it over before meeting Hank back at the door. Well, it looks like you're on the list. Splendid. May I come in? Then an unnaturally wide smile danced across his cheeks. Yeah, sure. Come in. Hank walked past the threshold and sighed. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. What a lovely place. Can't wait to sink my teeth in and get to work. He then sauntered off upstairs. I sat down on the couch and continued writing, hoping my creative breakthrough hadn't subsided. An hour passed, then another. I was able to finish up some more work, but something kept scratching at the back of my mind. I knew locksmithing wasn't the loudest job out there, but I expected to hear at least some sort of tinkering coming from upstairs, the distant sound of keys scraping against the lock's inner chambers. But no, there was only silence. I then wondered why Hank was there to begin with. This was far from a typical rental experience, especially one on a secluded island. I skimmed the list again. Two things stood out. Rule number seven Never lock the doors. Even if Garrett was deranged, it was clear he didn't want the doors locked. So why then would he send a locksmith who would be breaking in out here anyway? The second thing that jumped out at me was the end of rule number three. Ask for last names. Something wasn't adding up, but I intended to get to the bottom of it. Hank. I yelled out, hoping to get his attention. There was no answer. Hank, can you come down here, please? No response. Only silence. This was my cue to investigate. To my dismay, the second floor was completely vacant. I scoured every room, every nook and cranny the house had to offer to no availability. Hank was nowhere to be found. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. How could a person just up and vanish like that? I returned to the first floor. Hank was there, sitting on the couch, looking over my manuscript. There was no way he could have snuck by me. Say, this is pretty good. I wonder how it's going to play out. Help me out here, Jack. Is there a happy ending, or does the man succumb to his own demons? I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs. Hank, I asked. What's your last name? A grin formed beneath his nose. Reedon. My name's Hank Reeden. Why do you ask? I looked down at the list in my hands. Penston. His name was supposed to be Hank Penston. No reason, just curious. Hey, do you mind tossing me my phone? Hank looked down at my phone on the coffee table. A few moments passed before he grabbed it and looked over at me. He stared for a long time, almost as if calculating the distance, and then finally threw it over. I caught it and ran for the front door. Thanks. I'll be right back. I sprinted to the edge of the island, unsure of who or what was inside the house. It was becoming ever apparent that Garrett might not be so crazy after all. Something truly strange was afoot, and I wanted no part of it at first. I called the ferry station no answer. Then Garrett. Still no answer. Before I could try another number, my ex wife called. I had been ignoring her calls for weeks. Charlotte, thank God. I'm at an Airbnb off the Cape. I need you to. She interjected. Leslie's dead, Jack. My blood ran cold. It was said with the same tone and resentment as it was two years before. All at once, the floodgates opened and a slew of memories poured in. Ones I had tried desperately to repress. Leslie was our daughter. Before Charlotte and I divorced. She was struck by a car on her way home from school. Charlotte was at work and I was supposed to pick Leslie up, but I was too wrapped up in my first novel. I forgot all about her. My own daughter. She walked a good mile before. Before the collision. I never forgave myself. Neither did Charlotte. Charlotte, why are you saying this? Tears rolled down my face. She's dead, Jack. It's your fault my baby is dead. All because of you. Her voice became louder and less distant until I could barely recognize the cadence and inhuman growl. You're to blame, Jack. You belong where you are. I hope you rot in that house. I looked down at the list, now stained with the steady stream of droplets dripping from my cheeks, and that's when I remembered rule number two. Do not answer your phone. Callers cannot be trusted. As much as it pained me, I hung up on her. It wasn't real, but it sure as hell felt like it was. I wiped away my tears and looked at the last rule. Braving the fierce currents of the ocean likely wouldn't end well. The shore nearly 16 miles away. So Jessica was my only hope. The only phone call you can trust, according to Garrett. I dialed the number and waited. After two tones, my ear was met with the female voice. You broke a rule, didn't you? A few actually. Give or take. She let out a sigh. Did you let anyone in? Yes. Hank. Hank Penston. No, Hank Reedon. There was another disappointed sigh. Okay, listen carefully. I want you to go back to the house, but act natural. No sudden moves or conspicuous behavior. Any slight change in your attitude could set him off. Walk slow and be cautious, okay? I did as instructed. On my way around the house, I looked through the window. Hank was no longer in the living room. There was a slight spike in my adrenaline, but I held my composure until turning the corner. Corner that is. Standing at the back of the house waiting for me was Hank. Hey there, Jack. What are you up to? Jessica chimed in. Stay calm and repeat what I say verbatim. Hank. I have Garrett on The phone. He wants to know if you can check the lock on the front door. He says it's been sticking lately. In the most casual voice I could muster, I repeated which Jessica said. Hank bore a stoic expression for a few moments and then spoke that darn thing. I'll see what I can do. He walked past me and went off to the front of the house. I was officially rattled. Jessica's voice broke the tension. About a dozen yards from the house is an electrical box. Do you see it? I surveyed the area and noticed the box. It was embedded in a tree stump dump of all places. One that stuck out of the ground at an awkward angle. Yes, I see it. Good. Open the hatch. There is a lever there. I want you to pull it down and then wait exactly 10 seconds after which you will place it back in its original position and close the hatch. I was confused. How is this going to help exactly? There was a third sigh of frustration. That is the master switch. When you pull the lever, it will deactivate all energy on the island. When you reset the lever, the house will reconstitute. This will wipe the slate clean. I didn't understand how it all worked, but I had heard enough to warrant an obvious follow up question. Couldn't I just leave it off? There was no sigh this time, just anger. No. The island is falling far worse when the energies are at bay. 10 seconds is all you're allowed. At this point, I saw Hank walking alongside the house. I fixed that lock for you, Jack. Jessica must have heard because her voice adopted a tone of urgency. Pull the lever now. I did as she said and began counting. Hank continued to walk toward me, his form phasing in and out like a bad television show signal. Jack, what are you doing? Need a hand? His pace grew faster until his walk became a run. My heart was pounding just as he was closing in. The 10 seconds were up and I forced the lever back. Hank vanished completely and the stump receded into the earth below. I fell back onto the ground in relief. Jessica. We did it. Click. Clearly she wasn't as pleased with the victory as I was. That was fine. I was just thankful to be alive. Once inside the house, I laid down in bed and held the list to my face, scrutinizing every last detail. I was determined not to break another rule for the rest of the day. That night was peaceful. I made sure all the doors were unlocked, locked, turned off the lights by 11:25, and refused to answer any calls. When I slept, there were no strange dreams. No dreams at all. In Fact, it was a truly restful night. The best sleep I had had in years. Despite my predicament, I awoke hopeful. Hopeful that I could weather the storm and survive the week. I was even able to write some more of my book. Not much, but enough to jump start my creativity. The next night didn't go nearly as well. 2:12am I had woken without cause. In an effort to fall back asleep, I shut my eyes and allowed my mind to wander. I thought of my book and the deadline. I thought of my eventual departure from the island. Before long, I thought of Charlotte and Leslie. The image of our once happy family would forever be seared into my broken heart. I felt my eyes begin to water. But something interrupted the sadness. A sound. Footsteps. My eyes opened and I sprang to life sitting upright in bed. The footsteps stopped just outside the room with a great deal of apprehension. Then I got out of bed, took a deep breath and tiptoed to the door. When I turned the knob and opened it, I found myself at the entrance of the house. With rule number five in mind, I shut the door and opened it again. I was now at the living room. Next was the bathroom. Then a hallway. A familiar hallway. Off in the distance. I heard the cloud click of room 371's door. The tall shadow stepped out the hall began to shrink. The figure closed the gap between us in a matter of seconds. Luckily, my will to live outweighed the fear that held me in place. I managed to shut the door just in time to prevent my demise. When I opened it again, the room was back where it was supposed to be. 3:47am Just as I was finally drifting back to sleep, the voices started. Hey, Jack. Enjoying your stay? Though frightened, rule number six came to mind and I followed it. The voices were harmless and I was not to converse with them. What's wrong? Jack hung up on Garrett's rules. That's no fun. I closed my eyes as I the voice grew louder and hid beneath the covers. Don't hide, Jack. We won't hurt you. Honest. The footsteps were back, walking outside the room. They stopped at the door. He's here now, Jack. I can tell you how to make him go away, but you have to talk to me. The door creaked open and the footsteps recommenced, walking over to the side of the bed. He's leaning over you now. I can make him leave. Just say the word. I couldn't give in to the ploy. I had to obey the rules. But then there was a tug on the sheets. My heart nearly stopped. Wake Up, Jack. I jolted to a sitting position. The room was empty and the door shut. It was a dream, but that didn't explain the hand shaped impression depression on the edge of the bed. No matter the culprit, I would endure the torment. It was only a week. You can get through this, Jack. Leslie's face flashed in my mind and forced an unexpected tear out. You've been through so much worse. The next few nights came and went without issue. There were some dicey moments, but I learned to handle the odd voice hearing here and there in the room, moving every now and again. I ignored knocks at the front door altogether, avoiding any and all potential repeats of the Hank incident. Night six, however, was by far the worst. Some things never change. Dark clouds loomed over the ocean as the waves crashed into the island. Just like the night Leslie was killed. I became deeply engrossed in my writing to the point that nothing in the world could have pulled me away. Even after everything that had happened in the house, I was somehow able to finish the book. Maybe the shock to my system inspired me. My fear had transformed into focus, granting me a greater mental clarity. When all was said and done and the editing complete, there was a horrible revelation. According to my phone, it was 11:24pm My heart sank to the depths of my soul as I raced across the house shutting lights off, knocking over furniture and decorations in the process. When I came back to the bedroom to turn off the final light at the desk, I glanced at my phone once more. The readout is now etched into my memory. 11 12:26pm I clicked off the light, praying that my phone's readout was somehow wrong and that I still had time. 11:27pm the bedroom door slammed itself shut behind me. I jostled the knob and pushed my weight against it, but it remained unmoved. A swirling black vortex of smoke was expelled from beneath the bed. It covered the floor in an instant and began rising to fill the rest of the room. I had no intention of waiting to see what would happen to me in the darkness, so I flung myself at the window and shattered the glass, landing on my back in a bed of shrubbery below. The impact knocked the wind out of me. Shortly thereafter, I passed out. 11:38pm I dreamt. I knew it was a dream and not the house's doing, because it was one I had had so many times before. The setting My daughter's school. The bell rang and a stampede of children rushed out into the world, excited to leave for the day and see their parents. The last person out Was Leslie left alone to her own devices? Daddy, where are you? Her eyes darted back and forth. I tried to call out to her, but much like the day in question, I wasn't there. In the dream, I was only an observer, forced to watch as the horror unfolded before me. Leslie waited for 15 long minutes before heading off in the direction of our home. I bore witness to her. A poor girl alone in the cold. And then it happened. Dream tears flooded my field of view as a car swerved and the heart wrenching scream of that beautiful young girl rang through the winter air. 11:56pm I woke up on the ground, covered in tears and broken glass. The ocean waves crashed against the walls of the house. There was no time to waste without my phone. I didn't know exactly what time it was, but it had to be close to midnight. Another broken rule would only make matters worse. I raced to the front door, opened it and swiftly shut it behind me, somewhat thankful to be back in the house, but also somewhat terrified the coming moments would echo the latter emotion, adding to my woes. 12:05, I was able to open the bedroom door and retrieve my phone. Luckily, the smoke had vanished. Upon venturing back down to the living room, I was shattered. Just like the glass on the ground outside. There, sitting on the couch where Hank sat before, was Leslie. My Leslie. I reached the bottom step and nearly fell to my knees, almost forgetting to breathe in the process. She was the same. Exactly the same. Every feature identical to the day I last saw her. How was this possible? Hi, Daddy. Her voice pulled a wave of emotion out of me, stronger than anything I had ever felt before. Was it really her? Was this really my precious Leslie brought back to the life? Surely this wasn't the house's doing, was it? Sweetheart, is that you? Is it really you? She looked over at me with innocent eyes. Yes, Daddy, it's me. I ran over to her and took her in my arms. My face now drenched in an ocean of tears. Oh, Leslie, sweetheart. I missed you so much. I missed you so much. I pulled away to get a better look at her. That's when I saw it. For an instant, in between blinks, her eyes were solid pools of black. This was not my Leslie. I backed away at once. What's wrong, Daddy? I continued my retreat to the stairs. You're not real. This isn't real. We buried you. Her next words stopped me in my tracks. No, Daddy. You buried me. Her eyes locked with mine as I cried. You killed me. You're the reason I'm dead. I took a pained breath before responding. You're right. I was a terrible father, and I deserve every moment of torture this house puts me through. If I ever get out of here, I'm going to visit your grave for the first time and tell you how sorry I am and how much I've missed you over the years. Not a day goes by that the guilt doesn't eat me up inside. I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped away the tears as she looked up at me, her head tilted in observation. But you're not her. Her. I ran up those stairs as fast as I could. Leslie's piercing screams echoed through the house, followed by the sound of every window breaking in reaction to the pitch. Once in the bedroom, I closed the door behind me and slid down into a sitting position on the floor against it. Utterly defeated and emotionally drained, I pulled out my phone and dialed Jessica's number. After two tones, she picked up. What is it this time? Don't tell me you broke another rule. I think I'm going to die tonight. Jessica. Her perturbed tone vanished, replaced with concern. Jack, what did you do? What's going on over there? I can't fight it anymore. It's too much. As much as I wanted to leave live, I could feel myself giving up. I don't even know why I called her. She couldn't help. The lever was gone and it was past midnight. The storm outside was destroying the house. Soon I would be swept out to sea, never to be heard from again. Hold on, Jack. I'll be there soon. Click. She wouldn't be coming. Even if the fairies ran that way late, they wouldn't dare operate in a storm that violent. The end was near and I could feel it. 1:13am After a good long while of wallowing and self pity, there was a knock at the front door. Jessica? No. It couldn't be. I cautiously exited the bedroom and slowly descended the staircase to the living room below. The storm raged on outside, a gust of wind howling through the house. In reaching the bottom step, I noticed that the coast was clear. Leslie's ghost was nowhere in sight. As quickly as I could, without drawing any unwanted attention to myself, I pattered over to the door and opened it. Behind it was a beautiful woman in her 30s, black hair, peached skin, and a tasteful spattering of freckles on either side of her nose. Jessica? I asked. Who else would it be? Her voice and sassy attitude answered my question in spades. I stepped aside and she barged in, clearly upset. I closed the door behind her, careful not to Lock it. And risk breaking another rule? I was less scared of the supernatural consciousness consequences than I was of Jessica's fury. You really had me worried, Jack. What did you do, anyway? Before I could answer, a small figure appeared from behind the couch. It was Leslie. Jessica followed my gaze and looked across the room. Jack, who's that? My daughter. I didn't know she was here with you. You don't understand. Understand? My daughter has been dead for two years. Jessica backed up to the door, where I was still standing. Oh, I see. Just as before, Leslie let out an awful shriek that rang through the house. It was louder than before. Much louder. Jessica turned to me, our hands cupping our ears. Jack, we need to get out of here. Follow me. We raced past Leslie and up the stairs to the bedroom. Okay, Jack, let's get going. She shut the door and opened it. She continued this routine, revealing the many rooms of the house. At one point, it opened up into the living room. Jessica quickly slammed it shut before Leslie could make her way in to get to us. Finally, it opened up into the hallway. Yes, yes, that hallway. Jessica grabbed my wrist. Come on, let's go. I yanked my arm back in refusal. Are you insane? I've been in there, and I don't plan on going back. Have you seen room 371? Jessica let out one of her signature sighs. Yes, I know all about it. So long as we get to where we're going before the shadow notices, we'll be fine. Now, come on. We don't have a whole lot of time here. I reluctantly respected her wishes. I wasn't keen on facing that ominous stretch of hall again. But Jessica's advice hadn't failed me yet. Besides, I was ready to die just an hour ago. Whatever fate would befall me in there couldn't be any worse than seeing my dead daughter resurrected. Okay, Jessica, I'm ready. 1:36am Matching each other's pace step for step, we disappeared into the dark hallway, the bedroom door closing behind us. I whispered so as not to wake the beast, where are we going anyway? None of the doors down here open. Without hesitation, she answered, one does. It took a moment for it to sink in. No. Jessa, are you serious? I can't go in that room. It lives in there. She turned to me and put her hands on either side of my face. She stared into my eyes with a look of pure kindness. I was taken aback by the unexpected intimacy. Jack, you need to calm down. Just trust me. We are going to be fine. I promise. As far as explanations go, that was pretty Vague. Still, it was reassuring. I can't explain it, but I was compelled to believe her. There was something about Jessica I really liked. A warmth that radiated around her. A contagious, soothing force. We continued down the hall and I didn't bring up my reservations again. 1:42am we reached the door. This was it. The moment of truth. I was about to open it when Jessica pulled my hand back. In order for this to work, you need to knock three times. No more and no less. I nodded in agreement. I raised my hand to the wood and knocked precisely three times. A deep anxiety wracked my nerves as the anticipation grew. After a few moments, the door was pulled open, revealing the shadowy figure within. It stepped away and motioned for us to enter. I looked over to Jessica for approval. She nodded and followed me in. The entity softly closed the door behind us. It then walked over to where we stood and changed. Its dark form turned to light, illuminating the rest of the room. It was the bedroom. Only it wasn't exactly the same. Something was amiss. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It just felt different. The bright figure then shrunk down to a glowing orb and drifted away, phasing through one of the walls, leaving us by ourselves. Moonlight shone through the window. The glass wasn't broken anymore. There was no storm outside. Everything was pristine. Jessica, what just happened? This is the house's safe space. A fail safe for when too many rules are broken. She could tell I wasn't following. It's a copy of the bedroom from just before things went south. A moment suspended in time. That we can stay in for a while. At dawn everything will revert to normal. Why didn't you tell me about it before? Honestly, it's a risky move. The shadow is a fickle being. When you enter room 371, there's only a 50% chance he'll accept your entrance. Otherwise, you're doomed. I couldn't believe it. You're telling me that we could have died? You risked our lives on a 50% chance. She came over and placed her hands on my face again. Jack, we're safe. There's no need to be angry. Relax. We would have died anyway at the hands of the house. This was our only option. She was right. Honestly, I was happy she was there. Without her, I would have been a goner. 3:17am Jessica spent some time going over my manuscript. I filled in some of the blanks so she could skip the more fatty sections and finish before bed. Jack, this is beautiful. I wasn't so sure. Maybe I put too much of myself in it. Maybe the blood I poured onto the pages covered up the meaning. Who in their right mind would want to swim through my despair to reach a story even I wasn't sure I believed in? It's about you, isn't it, Jack? This is your life. From the moment your daughter died to now. I felt myself unraveling. I'm tired, Jessica. I think I'm going to call it a night. I offered her a half smile, waltzed over to the bed and laid down. To my surprise, she laid down with me and placed her hand on my chest. It's okay, Jack. I've never lost a child, so I can't imagine the kind of things you're dealing with. I do know that things will never be the same. That doesn't mean you have to give up. What would your daughter have wanted? There was no fighting my tears any longer. You don't understand, Jessica. I'm responsible. She was waiting for me when it happened. I was her father and I wasn't there for her when she needed. Jessica didn't respond. I sobbed until there was nothing left in me. When the moment passed, I asked her a question. Why do these things happen here? Honestly, I don't really know. We turned to each other. Her warmth reared its head again, inviting me to come to it. Our lips met and with it an intense feeling was born like nothing I had ever felt. A somber, quiet energy filled the air and coated the room in a turn of events I will never fully fathom. Jessica and I made love. 5:32am Jessica fell asleep in my arms. I stayed awake, content for the first time in years. Then a familiar disembodied voice burrowed into my ear and poisoned my mind. What you're feeling isn't real. By this point, I was all too familiar with the voices and their antics. I ignored its statement. She does this to every tenant. She's a seductress. I was tempted to reply, but conversing was forbidden. I couldn't afford a broken rule this close to the finish line. Only two people are allowed in, Jack. Two. It's a simple rule. What did that have to do with anything? What was the voice up to? Jessica was one of the two. Despite my unrest, I continued to bite my tongue. Always ask for last names. There was a moment of pause before the realization wore washed over me. I gasped. A rule had indeed been broken. I jumped and backed into the corner of the room. Jessica was standing next to the bed. I hadn't even seen her get Up. Jack, are you okay? My breathing became labored. It was hard to construct my query in a normal fashion. Jessica, are you really you? What is your last name? The light left her face. Her now empty eyes cut right through me. I slid to the floor. A long period of silence passed before anything changed. Before she changed. 5:51am Jessica's face widened. Her eyes became large as if physically engorged with bloodlust. She lunged at me. I dodged the attack and hit the door hard. I reached for the knob, but it wouldn't turn. Jessica's new form spoke a gurgling metallic sound that ricocheted off the walls. It looks like you're stuck with me, Jack. She lunged again. I slid under the bed to escape her reach. Her feet paced around its precious perimeter. A predator circling its prey. It was just a matter of time now. I closed my eyes and thought of Charlotte and Leslie playing in the snow the last day I saw them together. This would be my final thought as death approached. As beautiful a thought as one could have before dying. At least now I could be with her again. A pain detained outcry from Jessica broke my concentration. The light in the room had changed. I rolled out from underneath the bed and saw her writhing in the corner. The sun was coming up over the horizon outside. This was my chance. I raced over to Jessica and clenched her neck. She struggled but was too weak to break free. I forced her against the window. Her skin melted, dripping like candle wax to the floor. Her hair burned to a crisp. I looked to her eyes for even a shred of humanity. Something that might convince me to spare her for all she had meant to me. There was none, only malice. In that moment, I sincerely wished that she had been real. Goodbye, Jessica. With as much force as I could muster, I pushed her through the window. Her form disintegrated before it could reach the ground. The wind carried her ashes away into the endless expanse of the ocean. She was no more. The house was still. Hours passed as my rental period came to a close. I sat in the living room and reflected on the events of the week. In a weird way, I had come to terms with Leslie's death. Death, the guilt would always be there. But I felt I could move on now, free of the restraints that once bound me. Knock, knock. I opened the door and let Garrett in.

[Narrator]

Your fairy awaits.

[Listener]

I nodded and gathered my things. I was anxious to leave, but felt the need to ask him something first. Garrett, what is this place? He smirked. Many words come to mind. Anomaly. Portal. Impossibility. I personally think it's a mirror showing us ourselves in a way we never thought possible. A place where our past and present intersect. Perhaps the right word for it is closure. I smiled. You might be onto something, Garrett. Splendid. Splendid. Does that mean you'll leave a good review? I chuckled. You know what? I'll do it right now. I opened the app and clicked through to the listing. A bit of information caught my eye as I scrolled. Checkout time 12pm I looked up at the readout at the top of my phone's display. It turned out turned from 1159-12. As I watched, I let someone in before time was up, meaning a rule had been broken. The note at the end of the list came to mind as the dread set in. I will come to collect you, but only when the rental period is over, not a moment sooner. That wasn't Garrett. I looked up to see him standing directly in front of me. Something wrong, Jack? I dropped my things and ran out to the dock as fast as I could. The ferry had just arrived, the real Garrett aboard, motioning for me to hurry. After boarding, I turned back and looked at the house one last time.