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Eric
Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. I'm excited to let you all know that I got my hands on a Nintendo Switch 2 the Mario Kart World Bundle, and I'm giving it away to one of my podcast supporters on June 4. I stood in line for about seven hours to ensure that I got one. So I'm pretty excited to tell you that I actually did get one by the skin of my teeth. Honestly, only my podcast members are in this pool. It's a small group. You actually have a shot to win. In order to win, all you have to do is sign up for a $2.99 a month membership to support my podcast. Keep in mind that all of the ads will go away, you'll be able to listen completely interruption free and you will enter automatically. By doing that, the winner will be announced September 1st. Click the link in the description to join. Now get rid of all of the ads. Enjoy the podcast with absolutely no interruptions and you might just have a Nintendo Switch 2 sent to your doorstep. And with that said, I really hope you enjoy this episode Mama Papa mi cuerpo crece a un ridmo alarmte y la ropa que comprento conos Precious de Amazon Amazon this happened about three years ago and it was during one of my little road trip phases that I had when I moved to the city from my little hometown down south. It was spring break 2018 and my teenage antics were at an all time high as I was only a sophomore in high school at the time. Needless to say, my friends and I were quite the avid users of alcohol, respectively. Not that I endorse its use or anything. I mean, we were just teens at the time. I had just made the trip down to my hometown and was relaxing at my friend's house when my friend, who I was staying with at the time suggested that we should take a camping trip and have some fun since I was down there for the break. My friend's name is Doug by the way, and our other friends who were invited were Lewis and Isaiah, while I go by the name Eric. Doug had found this really cool camping spot out by a lake that neither me, Louis or Isaiah had ever been to, and needless to say, I'm an outdoorsy person and I was excited about the whole thing, not even the slightest bit aware of what awaited us on the second day of my trip back to my town of youth. We decided to head out early in the morning and pack a couple of beers and hard liquor bottles into the cooler with our other camping materials. This was A small town mind you, so getting these things was as easy as taking candy from a baby. Since I was the only one with a license at the time, it was my responsibility to drive us and since I was staying with Doug, that meant we only had to pick up Lewis and Isaiah on the way. We began the drive to the camping spot which was a good 45 minute drive from where our town was located. We blasted the tunes of uncanny rappers and nonchalant music that every teen was listening to at the time, although I wish I had better taste in music. We drove past the trees that winded down the sides of our road leading out of town and almost always they would encompass the sunlight beaming overhead with their tall sprawling branches. We cleared the woods into an opening of farm fields on both sides while we were following an old road that had a turn off, which one direction led to the highway while the other led to an older run down much smaller town than ours that led to the lake we were driving to. Without a second thought, I put the turn signal on leading to the road opposite of the highway which led to a much more dense and dark forest. The trees blocked most of the sunlight just as the others did, but this was much more noticeable as we had barely enough sunlight to not turn our headlights on. The road turned to dirt and the rocks could be heard bouncing off the side of my tires. Nonchalantly, we passed the first few houses and immediately noticed there was something off about these houses. It wasn't that they were old trailers or anything, it's just that they all had a tin like chimney that were pumping out smoke in the air and it was the beginning of spring so it wasn't even that cold. We continued down the old dirt path that led to the lake and after passing the rest of the houses down that road, we noticed that almost all the houses had that same tin like chimney with smoke blowing out the top. We arrived at the spot near the lake and needless to say it was a pretty cool spot since it was the only spot that had a bit of an opening in its trees on one side due to the lake being right next to us. The dirt path that led to the spot wound around a circle and in the middle there was a tiny grass patch with three tiny trees surrounding it. I parked my car next to the middle of the circle and we decided to set up our tent near the patch with our soon to be campfire being in the middle of the patch. We split into two groups. Me and Doug were to gather firewood while Lewis and Isaiah gathered rocks to make the pit. Doug and I headed the direction opposite of the lake where the ever so dense forest awaited us with open arms to gather our sticks and leaves. Have you met any cute chicks up in the city yet? Or are you still too much of a wimp to even ask for their number? Doug said, you know me man. It's always the latter. He laughed and I shrugged it off with a chuckle as it's usually his motive to tease me since we are good friends. As we gathered our firewood, Doug casually looks up from his task and notices something up ahead in the tall grass which almost surpassed our shoulders at this point. You see that rusty old truck up there? Doug asked. I looked up and saw what he alluded to and said, you mean that old rust bucket? Yeah, I see it. I wonder who left it there. We casually picked up the remainder of the firewood and headed back to our camping spot. Dusk was beginning to set in and it was about this time that we cracked open the cooler full of liquor and sat down at the bristling campfire we made to accompany us. We sat in our circle telling awful horror stories and failed attempts at getting the ladies, all while laughing and having a good time as we sipped our beers and broke out the shots. My body count is at least 10 by now, but I'm not sure since I stopped counting. Lewis boasted, so what? You can't count now, mister. I've slept with 10 people but I'm not counting. Isaiah laughed. You guys. I say we toast to that. I slurred. We all laugh and raise our beers in unison. The darkness around the campfire and the surrounding woods had completely set in at this point and to say the least, we were all fairly drunk since at this point we were all walking a straight line around the campfire, acting as if we could pass a sobriety test. Doug falls next to the the log we were sitting on and Lewis as well as Isaiah followed suit. While I wasn't exactly getting a grasp on our makeshift sobriety test and kept stumbling and falling over next to them as they laughed at my effort. Sh. Shut up guys. Cut me some slack. I took a long deep breath and exhaled with a bloated face as I could feel the alcohol lingering in my throat. I immediately felt a sudden urge to go vomit so I told them I would be right back and they laughed even harder since they figured what I was going to do. I made it all the way to where the tall grass was and let my stomach do the talking. I didn't notice how dark their surrounding area actually was until I finished my business and turned back to see the campfire in the distance, which looked like a small speck compared to what surrounded us. Just then I heard a rustling in the woods and turned around with my phone in hand and turned the flash on to see what caused the ruckus. Me being drunk at the time, I literally had no thoughts in my mind and me being curious, I decided to go check it out and ventured a bit deeper into the grass with the dark of the branches looming all around me. I stubbed my toe against what seemed like a rock and I almost let out a screech until I settled down and shrugged it off. I pulled my flash up to see what it was and lo and behold, it was the front tire of the truck me and Doug had found earlier. I raised the flash a bit higher and got a better view of the whole truck and its layout. It was a rusty old green ford, probably early 90s or so, and with a raised bed cover that had windows on the sides of the COVID with cracked glass on almost every one. It looked as if it had sat idle there for a good 1010 years without moving. I raised my flash a bit higher towards the front cab of the truck and peered inside, seeing old newspapers, crushed up beer cans, and strangely enough, a few needles laying on the floorboard. That's when my curiosity simmered down a bit and my fear began to set in as I shifted my attention towards a sound that came from the back of the cab in the bed cover. I slowly walked with every grass and leaf crunching under my feet. I reached the back of the cab and shakily raised my flash up the side of the truck and into the window of the back cab. The flashlight peered up the glass of the window and as I raised it higher, my heart sank into complete and utter terror. What peered out of the glass at me was a man with eyes that had no pupils and a smile that only a man on the edge of sanity could perform. He banged his arm against the glass and the shock of the sound sent me flying onto my back into the grass and dropping my phone. I frantically grabbed my phone from the ground and without a second thought raised the light back to the man, only to see him banging on the window with much more force. His arms were bleeding, his shirt tattered with years of misfortune and face meshed with scars. He began to bulge his eyes from his sockets as he laughed horribly and began to cry hysterically. I knew you would come. It's you. About time you brought the fun to me. I let out a blood curdling scream and with my heart racing a mile a minute, I wasted no time in high tailing it from the truck back to the campfire. I turned around to see the man get out of the truck and he turned to face me tilting his head with his murderous smile and deep white eyes illuminating through the moonlight that shined down as he began to walk towards me. My running turned to sprinting and I ended up slamming into the campfire that we set up which made me fall face first into the gravel and dirt. The fire was now on its last legs and was almost out at this point. However, my legs were now caught in a bit of flight flames and with my frantic rolling about on the ground, the fire on my pants were almost instantly put out. Eric, what the hell is going on? Doug shouted. I looked up at the three who were in complete fear at this point and oblivious as to what lied in the woods just beside us. There's a man in the woods. In the truck. The truck. We found. Out of breath, I steadied as fast as I could get it out. That's when our attention shifted towards the truck in the tall grass. Two headlights beamed out of the grass and the truck engine roared to life ferociously. All of our hearts sank and we instantly sobered up and realized the direness of our situation. Get in the car. Lewis shouted. Me, Doug and Isaiah looked at each other in a frantic agreement and booked it to the car and locked the doors as soon as we got inside. Breathing heavily and shaking from what lied in the dark of the woods, we all agreed to start the car and get out of Dodge. We started the car only to find the headlights of the truck begin to move and encircle us around the campsite. Just put it in drive before he rams us. Isaiah shouted. I floored the accelerator and hightailed it from our camping spot, leaving the tent and booze behind because at this point they didn't matter. The truck began to follow us and steadily gained speed on us as we began our death race towards the exit of the woods. The houses we saw earlier all had their lights on and with each house there was someone standing in the dark with the light illuminating behind them. All of them standing there just watching us. Every single one. What is this? I shouted. The trees seemed as if they grew 100ft higher and now fully encased us within these woods and the darkness felt as if it was chasing us out of its home and screaming at us in agony. The truck behind us was almost touching my bumper at this point, and when I peered into the rearview mirror I saw the man one last time. His eyes were stabbing mine as if to say, I will kill you. His pupils were non existent and his smile somehow seemed more impossibly forced than than before, and he was laughing to the point of insanity. I thought this was the end for us. Suddenly we shot out from the dark of the woods and into the open farm fields from earlier and the truck behind us slammed its brakes and we could hear the screech of its tires so loudly it felt like it busted our eardrums. I looked in the mirror to see the truck slowly creep back into the forest from which it came, the darkness swallowing it up once again. We didn't play any music the rest of the way home, nor did we speak a word to each other about what had happened. Our heart rates were all up from the moment we pulled into Doug's driveway and when we got out we let out a sigh of relief. We each made our way to his shed where he stays and we all grabbed waters and some food to calm us down. We watched some comedies and tried to talk our minds off the events that had transpired due to the constant laughing of the movies and shows we watched. I had to step outside as I thought I was having a panic attack. All I could hear was that man laughing at me hysterically. I knew it was you. I shook my head and took long deep breaths and headed back inside. I still keep in touch with these friends even though high school was all but ended. They are still my closest friends and probably always will be. Although I have still yet to find my groove with the ladies and much hasn't changed since then. One thing will never change. I will never forget the pure white of that man's eyes as well as his murderous smile. One thing that has bothered me until this very day is the fact that Doug and I noticed the truck very early on in the day. That man watched us for hours and I can't help but think about what those people were doing on the porches, just staring at us, not doing anything. Was this all coordinated? Were they just too scared of the man? Or were they like the man and wanted this corner of the globe to stay all to themselves? Well, in any case, you win. You can keep keep those woods all to yourselves. I am a fresh teacher board passer last 2018 so after getting my license I was asked by a friend to become a substitute teacher in the nearby school for him. Since he is going to be gone for a month, I Happily accepted and started the next week after. So the class that I was going to be substituting for was a grade seven class. I was quite nervous to start, but the first day went well. However, on the night of my first day, my friend texted me. Hey Bri, I forgot to tell you about one of my students. Anyway, his name is George. He's kinda weird and he might intimidate you, but don't worry, he's harmless. He just needs a little attention and guidance. By the way, thank you so much. I hope you have fun. Well, that's what he said. I was now aware of who the George kid was. He was small, wore glasses and was sitting in the back. His classmates were kinda mean to him, I must say. So I decided to be kind kind to him and to approach him since my friend told me he needs guidance and I wanted to help. Hi George, I'm Ms. Bree. How was your day today? I started the conversation while the rest of the students were leaving the room. Oh good. He replied shyly. Well, if you need any help, I'd be glad to assist you. I am now your new friend. Alright, I said. O. Okay, okay. Thanks. He said and we parted ways. I didn't know that with that simple conversation everything would change. George started to smile at me. Not the cute smile, nor the innocent smile, but the smile that would send chills down your spine. I always smile back. Anyways, since a teacher should be friendly, random letters appear on my desk in the faculty room with a similar handwriting like George's, stating weird and very sensitive things about him. How he likes to stalk his classmates and more. He didn't sign the letters, but the handwriting was unique and I just knew it was his. I ignored it, which made it worse. I started to receive the same letters in my house. Someone ringing the doorbell at 3 3am for one whole week. My tires getting slashed, random accounts, sending hate on my social medias, my windows being smashed and a lot more. I decided to let my friend, whom I had substituted for, know all the things that had been happening. He was very alarmed and told me to report it to the principal as soon as possible. And so I did. George was called into the guidance office and was suspended for a week. I was not able to hear what he has to say as my friend already came back and was attending the class again. My friend shared everything to me, though apparently me ignoring the letters made George upset. He felt like I lied to him about being his friend and so he started doing these things to me as his revenge. His parents visited me one day and apologized. I accepted it, told them to get help for their son. So to George, I'm sorry I didn't understand you, but please don't do this to your teachers. I would highly appreciate if you would get guidance and help. You were a smart kid and you still deserve to be treated nicely since you clearly need help. All of these events destroyed me and my love for teaching. I decided to have a fresh start to a new state and took therapies while I look for a different job. Specifically not teaching for now. This story happened sometime in the mid-1990s when my mom was a teenager in high school. My mother and my aunt grew up on a farm in central Florida that was relatively in the middle of nowhere at the time. We still live in this area and it is more urbanized now, but at this point in time it was mostly woods and farmland. My great aunt, uncle and our cousins lived on the same property in another house however, so they weren't entirely alone, but outside of that you would have to drive a mile or maybe a little less than that or so before you reached the next neighbor. My grandfather coached for the local high school's football team and my mother and aunt were cheerleaders, so on Fridays he would have to coach at the school's game and my mom and aunt would be there to cheerlead. The rest of the family would usually come along as well since my cousins went to this school too and there wasn't really anything else to do in that small town on a Friday night, they would usually get to the game earlier than everyone else, considering that he was the coach. One particular Friday, however, my mother started feeling very sick throughout the day and by the time the evening rolled around she felt horrible. She informed my grandfather that she wasn't feeling up to going and that she would be staying home to rest. My grandma made her something to eat for dinner and after that the whole family, including my great aunt and great uncle went on their way. She was alone on their property. For some context, we eventually ended up selling this property when I was a young child, so I don't have a ton of memories about my grandparents property. One thing I can remember was that it could get very creepy at night and that was with other people there, so being alone at night must have been a lot more frightening. My mom went to lay down right after they left, but not long after, maybe five or 10 minutes, she realized she needed to call her cheerleading coach at the school to let her know that she wasn't going to be there tonight. So that she could be prepared for her absence. Keep in mind this is the mid-80s, so there are no cell phones. My mom has to get up and walk all the way to the corner kitchen to use the phone. As she is walking through the house she starts to feel a bit creeped out. Like that classic feeling of something just not being right. That instinctual feeling we get when something is just telling us that we are in a potentially bad situation and may not even know it yet. Outside it is getting dark out and there are many lights on in the house which contribute to this uneasy feeling. Very important detail. The phone in my grandparents house had a longer cord than most phones at the time. She says that you could walk into other rooms and the cord was long enough that the phone could be brought out of the kitchen into the neighboring rooms which are the living room, the hallway and my grandparents bedroom. In the hallway by the kitchen and by my grandparents bedroom, my grandfather kept his weapons ready to go. Not the safest thing I guess, but when you live alone in the woods I guess you want to be ready to defend yourself the second you know you're in trouble. He had always told my mom and aunt, do not touch those weapons unless your life is in danger. She took this very seriously and had never even thought about touching them. By this point she was in the kitchen and she dialed the number to call her her coach and informed her about her illness. I believe they continued talking for a minute or so because she says that the coach was still on the phone when my mom heard strange noises coming from my grandparents room. My mother, very frightened, told the coach she heard something and grabbed the weapon off the wall, phone still pressed to her ear. She wasn't sure if she was overreacting and had imagined something. But she opened the door to my grandparents room room and what she saw made her drop the phone right on the floor in shock. The window was completely open and there was a large man with one leg over the windowsill and one leg still outside. What was so awkward about this was he had basically stopped in the middle of coming in when he realized he had been caught by her. As if he was not expecting someone to be home or that he simply did not expect her to have heard him coming in. They just stared at each other for a good five seconds. Him just halfway in the room and her just standing there in the doorway, phone on the floor. With my mom's coach still in the line asking if she was okay. Weapon in hand, staring at each other, but almost unsure what to do. My mom Terribly frightened, finally mustered up the will to speak. First, in a very shy and afraid voice, she managed to say, I, I, I, I have a weapon. Turn around and leave or I'll use it. The man just stood there. She said it was as if he was wondering whether she was bluffing or not. Finally, after what seemed like hours of just staring, he suddenly swung his other leg in very fast and turned quickly like he was about to charge her. My mother, terrified with her hands shaking, used the weapon and hit him in the shoulder. The impact was so much that it knocked her back on the floor and sent the man directly out the window he had come in. Blood was everywhere around the window. She picked the phone back up now sobbing, telling her coach to call the police to her house. When she looked back, she saw the man running, clutching his shoulder, bleeding out all over the yard, running back to woods the behind their property. Keep in mind he was wounded. This guy had basically just immediately gotten up like it was nothing and started sprinting off into the woods. I don't know the exact order of what happened next, but the police eventually did get there. My grandparents hurried home sometime shortly thereafter and the police were still there. I think what was most weird about this story was that there was a trail of blood that the guy had left as he was flying, fleeing the property that went out into the woods. The police investigated and found that it continued for some ways into the forest and eventually just stopped. There was no body or anything like the blood just stopped and they never caught up with the guy. I think it's bizarre because she had seriously wounded him and around the window in the room looked like the scene of a horror movie. How he got away apparently alive and so quickly without the cops catching up to him is very odd. She believes that he must have been on something. I agree with this theory because what kind of sane and sober person would have continued to break into someone's home when they have a weapon pointed in their face and have been caught in the act? Not to mention that once he had been wounded, he just took off like it was nothing back into the woods. Regardless, I'm just happy my mother made it out okay. Who knows what could have happened if she had just fallen asleep and hadn't gotten up to make that phone call. My pound rescue dog is a walk hound named Charlie. Best way to describe a walker hound would be an overgrown beagle that weighs around 60 pounds and is about the size of a common Labrador. People often ask if my dog Charlie is a beagle. I get asked this very often, and I give them a short lesson of the difference between a walker hound and a beagle. I am a single bachelor who lives alone in a house in a quiet suburb with my best friend. Friend Charlie, of course. I love my dog as if he were my child. Charlie and I have our routine morning and evening walks where we always walk through a public city park just down the street from my home in a seemingly safe suburban neighborhood. Charlie and I are rarely the only ones in this park when we stroll through, as this park is very popular for many dog owners in my neighborhood. Charlie is a friendly dog who wants to meet and greet every dog that passes us by, be it a big dog or a small dog. If another dog and their owner drew near, Charlie always eagerly pulls on his leash to get closer and try and make a fellow canine companion. One evening nearly two weeks ago, Charlie and I were finishing up a long walk and were heading back home. The night sky had just arrived after the sun hid itself behind the mountains. We were walking the dimly lit streets of the subdivision and I decided to take a shortcut through the city park where Charlie and I always frequent. We walked along the asphalt trail that curves and bends around tall maple trees toward the tennis courts. We continued walking this trail to the part where it forks into two separate directions. The right trail takes you back to the street and out of the park toward my home. The left trail takes you into a thicket of dense bushes toward an elementary school. As Charlie and I walked past the forked trail and veered right, I could see someone coming right out of the woodwork from the left trail. Two very large belligerent dogs with jet black fur. These huge dogs were bound on a double leash, being walked by a middle aged male and female couple. I don't know what breed these dogs were were, but the best way I can describe them would be a mix between a German shepherd and a husky. They both looked identical and easily weighed at least £100. As soon as these dogs laid eyes on Charlie and I, they barked furiously, pulling hard at their owner's ropes and got into attack mode. The two belligerent black dogs pulled hard against their feeble female owner, who was trying with all her might to hold them back. While her significant other did nothing to help, I knew trouble was afoot. But before Charlie and I could make our getaway, the woman obviously lost her grip on the reins of the double leash. Immediately, the belligerent dogs charged and started attacking and biting Charlie. Charlie is no match for these two attack dogs that are much larger than he is. Charlie is howling in fear and pain, trying to get away. My protective dog dad instincts ignite and I begin kicking these mutts in the head as hard as I can, protecting Charlie at all costs. Seconds felt like minutes as I was fighting these wild attack dogs in the scuffle. The double leash that held these two vile attack dogs together had wrapped around my body and brought me down to the ground. Once on the ground at their level, all three dogs run around in circles, binding me very tightly in the double leash. Charlie's cries for help and the attack dogs barking and growling were the only sounds I heard. Wildly, I fight with everything I got as I punched and kicked these vile mutts. As they tightly bind me with their double leash, holding me in place, the man and woman finally rush over and restrain their vile animals from inflicting further harm upon Charlie and I. The double leashes tied tightly, bound around my lower abdomen and tangled up amongst myself, Charlie and the attack dogs. The man and woman frantically work to untangle me and the dogs from the mess. I'm so sorry. They both exclaim. At this point, pure fury flowed through me. I harshly smack down their apology and say something along the lines of, get me out of this mess and keep better track of your attack dog. I should call the police on you negligent people. They begged me not to, and I was still tangled up in the mess with the dogs and I was still at their mercy to be let go. So I had no choice but to wait while they unwound the leashes and freed me from the mess they got me in. I was disgusted by the mere existence of this man and woman who brought two very large and vicious attack dogs to a public park. Even though I knew they were sincerely apologetic, I was too angry to accept that it was an accident. While they untangled me, I scanned my body and my dog Charlie's for any open wounds and injuries. Thankfully, I found none. After standing up off the ground, I got Charlie beside me and I yelled at both of them to F off and die. The man who should have helped his girlfriend restrain the dogs had the nerve to reply, you should have offended and live. Boiling with rage, I cannot remember my exact words, but I told both of them something along the lines of that I should call the police to report their irresponsible dog ownership and that I never want to see them in their ugly mutts in the park ever again. Of course, the man was bullheaded and kept mouthing off to me, well then, if you don't want to see us, don't come to the park. Will you shut up. The girlfriend yelled back at him. The woman was trying to calm her man down, telling him that I'm not worth it and to move on. Yeah, listen to your woman. I shot back. One more word from you and I will call the cops. To that they walked away. You might be thinking, why didn't you call the police? Why did you let them get away? At the time I did not want to let them get away, but my merciful side overtook me that evening because I was once in a similar situation as this couple was before I adopted Charlie three years ago. @ that time I was pet sitting a pit bull on a nature trail. This pit bull broke loose and attacked a nearby camper's cat. At that time I disciplined the pit bull and rescued the cat from near death. The cat's owners wanted to report me to the police as well, but a long story short, I de escalated that situation and made sure the cat was safe and sound and they decided to cancel calling the police. If I was given a second chance from someone who was a victim of my irresponsible actions of pet ownership, I could give this couple a second chance as well. Next week I'm going to be enrolling in self defense classes and this experience with the two attack dogs has inspired me to purchase a stun baton with 7 million volts to zap any approaching attack dog with malicious intent. I consider myself very fortunate that this incident went down the way it did with no injuries to myself or Charlie, but next time I might not be so lucky. Now to start this off, I'm a 29 year old man and three times a year I head up to the Georgia mountains to camp, fish and have a great time. But after the last trip I doubt I will ever go again. I had been super excited the week before I was to head up to Georgia and when the day finally came I could have died with happiness. I loaded up my dog, Buddy and all my gear and started the trip. About an hour into my trip I saw a road that I have never seen before. I decided I would take an hour to look around and go back to the main road. I lost track of time and before I knew it the sun was setting. I grabbed my gear and my buddy and we hiked about 10 minutes before finding a nice clearing in the forest. I set up camp and looked around. I saw a small man made trail leading into the dark trees and decided that me and my dog needed a walk. I grabbed my walking stick Buddy's leash and a headlamp and we headed onto the trail. I knew something was wrong when I couldn't hear a single insect or animal. My dog and I stopped at a little creek and that's when I saw something terrifying. Two eyes reflecting from my headlight. This person was really tall, looked to be about 7ft. My dog is usually very protective of me, but instead of barking, he whimpered and peed on my leg. I have never seen him act like this before. He has seen bears before and has scared mountain lions away, but he has never gotten scared like this. As Buddy kept whimpering, I felt terrible. Like this person hated hated me and they could rip me to pieces if they wanted to. Then they made the scariest noise I have ever heard. Imagine a maniac screaming. My dog and I bolted back to our camp. When we got back, I could still hear it. Needless to say we changed our mind about staying there. I packed up the camp as my dog stood watch. We ran to my truck and got out of there. I went straight home and canceled this camping trip. That whole night while I laid in bed, I could not get that scream out of my head. This happened a long time ago, about 40 years ago. So this was back before cell phones or Google maps or debit cards or any of the traveling conveniences of today's world. So when you traveled by car, you were at the mercy of printed road maps, phone booths, if you needed to make a phone call, and whatever cash you had on you before you started your trip. I am a 60 year old female and this is what happened when I was about 18 years old old. My sister Mandy, who was a few years older than me and one of her friends. Jane and I decided to take a road trip from Dallas to Houston to attend a Bruce Springsteen concert. Jane knew one of the roadies so we were going to get backstage passes and we were going to actually get to meet Bruce Springsteen. We were so excited. We decided to drive to Houston on the Friday night before the Saturday conference concert and we were going to stay in a cheap motel for the weekend. We were young and broke, but this was Bruce Springsteen. So worth the cost of the motel. We wanted to be rested and already there to get to the concert early and possibly see the band before the show. And we also did not want to have to drive back after the concert as we would be out late hopefully in our crazed minds partying with Bruce and the E Street Band. We were in Jane's car for the trip. She had recently gotten a new car plus hers was the only car of the three of us that was in good enough condition to make the trip. Mandy and I always had rat traps for cars back then. So we started off at around 7pm that Friday night and we were in very high spirits. What a weekend this was going to be. We were jamming and laughing at having us a good old road trip. About two hours into the trip, which was halfway there, we heard loud knocking noises coming from the car engine. We immediately turned down the music and strained to try and figure out just what the heck the noises were. Then all of a sudden, we heard a loud bang and the car engine died. We were freaking out as we had been tooling down the highway. It's 60 miles per hour. And then it just stopped. Thankfully the roads were empty and there were no cars behind us, so Jane was able to just pull off to the side of the highway as the car was losing momentum. We all got out of the car on the passenger side next to the woods. Jane popped open the hood. But it's not like any of us would have known what to do anyway. It's just something you do right. The engine was smoking and it smelled horrible. Bad oil smell. We had no idea what to do. Here we were, three young girls on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere I might add, and we had no way to get help unless it was offered by a stranger. We knew that we were too far from the exit behind us. We had not seen an exit for quite a while and we had no idea how far it was to the next exit. Too far to walk anywhere, more than likely. Not that it would have been safe to walk on the side of the highway anyway. And since we were in the middle of nowhere and it was pitch black by this time, there were no lights on the highway and there were no buildings or towns around to provide light either. And we only saw very few cars on the highway in either direction. We were so screwed and so scared. And we had to figure out just what the heck we were going to do. Mandy and I were also upset about probably missing the concert, but Jane was just concerned about her car. She had finally gotten a new car after all the lemons she had in the past, and now she was afraid that it was dead, possibly for good. We just sat in the car for a long time, trying to figure out what to do. A while later, as we were still freaking out and scared, but had not yet come up with a plan, a car pulled up behind us. We all just froze because we had no idea who it was or what their intentions were. As we all stared out the back window with deer in the headlight looks on our faces, a man, probably early 20s, started walking up to our car. You would think that after the breakdown, we would have discussed what to do if someone stopped to help us. But apparently we were not that bright because we had no plan for this. The man walked up to the car window and asked what the problem was and if we needed help. We all just looked at each other and then, as if we all came to the same conclusion together without speaking, knowing that we really had no other choice, James cracked the window just a little bit and explained the situation. He said he could drive us to the next nearest town, which was about 15 miles ahead. He said, so we could use a phone. The only plan we had come up with before this stranger walked up was that if we did get to a phone, Jane would have to call her father. Not only because it was her car and she would need his help dealing with it. But we really had no one else to call. Our other friends were as broke as we were and had cars as unreliable as ours were, so no point in asking any of them to help. And mine and Mandy's parents lived too far away to be able to help in this situation. So while we knew we needed to get to a phone, we had no idea if this guy could be trusted. We asked him to give us a moment, then we would start discussing our impossible options. The smartest thing would have been for all three of us to go with this guy. Power in numbers. But Jane absolutely refused to leave her car alone on the side of the road. So she insisted that one of us had to stay there. She would not budge on this. Not sure why she thought that car was more important than our lives, but she would not change her mind. And since it was completely insane to send one of us off with a stranger, the only solution was that one of us had to stay with the car and two had to go with this guy. Since it was Jane's father that needed to be called, she had to go make the phone call. Mandy offered to stay with the car, so I would go with Jane. We were all terrified, as we knew that he could kill us both and we would never be found. And that if another person stopped by the car, Mandy would be alone, so would have no way to defend herself of a dangerous person approached her. We hugged and said a scared and teary goodbye. And Jane and I walked to the stranger's car, knowing that this could be the last time we see each other. Now, I know some of you may be saying things like why didn't Mandy get the guy's license plate number? Or ask to see his driver's license or even ask for his name, but we never even thought about that. Yeah, that would have been the smart thing to do because if he knew she had that information, he might be less likely to harm us. Or if he had refused to give that information, then we would have known he was not on the level. Of course, now that I think about it, he could have still killed us and gone back to do the same to Mandy. So giving her his information wouldn't have been any help in saving any of us. But I digress. We didn't do any of that. So Jane and I got into the stranger's car and just prayed that he was a decent guy. Since Jane was older, she sat up front with a stranger and I got into the backseat. Jane was pretty street smart, so I was comforted a bit by the fact that I knew she would put up a hell of a fight if need be. But as it turned out, he was a decent guy. He actually did drive us to the small town just as he said he would. And I do mean a small town. All we could see was a small old motel next to a small diner. But there was a police car parked at the diner. So he let us out, knowing that we were in good hands, or so we thought. We thanked him profusely and off he went. So Jane and I went inside the diner and she used the public payphone to call her father. She was hoping that he would come rescue us and her car that night, but her father said no way. He told her that we would just have to spend the night there at that motel and he would come in the morning to pick us up and get her car. He was not about to make a two hour drive at almost 11pm to come get us that night. He assured her that it was okay to leave her car on the side of the highway overnight. There was no way around that unless we were going to sleep in the car, which he strictly forbade her to do. Of course, she was too too old to be told what to do by her father, but she knew if we did that and he found out, he would be pissed and he might not help her with the car. So she was just going to have to let her car stay there by itself overnight. Next, we spoke to the policeman. We were concerned about my sister alone in the car and asked if he would take us to go get her and Bring her back to the diner. He was very nice, had a long Texan drawl with. He spoke and said, sure, let's go. The policeman made a few calls on his car radio, not sure to who, as it was hard to hear and they were not speaking very loudly, as if he didn't want us to hear. But I was hoping it was about the car and my sister. So Jane and I got into the back of the police car. We were finally so relieved and just thanked our lucky stars that we were safe. Although we were still concerned about Mandy, as we had no idea if she was okay or not. Just a few minutes into the trip, the policeman was telling us that there is a serial rapist on the loose in the area. What an odd topic of conversation, especially to two young girls that are already upset about the car and my sister all alone. We have absolutely no idea why he told us that. That we just stole a worried glance at each other and we were beginning to wonder if this cop was actually the nice man that he appeared to be at first. And here we were in a car that had doors with no means of exit. We were starting to get a bit nervous. All of a sudden, his police radio cracked and came to life. And apparently there was a crime in progress that the policeman needed to get to immediately. So, and I kid you not, he stopped the car right where we were, out in the middle of nowhere, and said that we had to get out now, he had to go and he could not take us with him. He said that he would come back to pick us up or send someone as soon as he could. Are you kidding me? We looked around and there was absolutely nothing there except a dark building with a newspaper stand in front of it. Other than that, just pitch blackness, dark roads and forest as far as we could see. We thought surely he must be joking at first, but he was not. His demeanor had changed. He was no longer the nice, friendly policeman with the slow southern drawl that we had met just moments ago. He got mean and nasty and demanded that we get out of the car immediately. We were in tears, asking him to please not leave us out there alone. He said we should just go stand near the building and someone would come to our aid as soon as they could. He assured us we would be fine. So with no other choice, we got out of the car. Then he sped off, 90 to nothing. It was pitch black, it was getting cold and we were terrified. So we huddled next to the building behind the newspaper store, trying to be unseen and to get out of the wind. We could not believe that a policeman just did this to us. The thought had occurred to us both that the call he received might have possibly been about Mandy. And that is why he didn't want us to be with him so great. Not only were we cold and scared and possibly about to be attacked and raped by the mad rapist, but now we were afraid that something bad had possibly happened happened to Mandy. About 15 minutes later, a semi truck hauling wood or something on a long flatbed behind his truck stopped directly in front of the building that we were crouched beside. We were terrified as while he seemed to be fiddling with the load on the back of his truck, so actually might have had a legitimate reason to get off the highway and park here. He kept looking over in our direction and we knew he must have seen us. We thought we were about to be attacked by a maniac truck driver. We were hoping he would just drive away. But then he started walking toward us. We thought, this is it. We cursed that stupid police officer and huddled together in fear. But as the man got closer, he yelled to us, are you the girls with the sister on the side of the road and the broken down car? We were so confused. How in the world would he know that we looked at each other and whispered that perhaps he killed her, found out from her that we had come here and now he has come to kill us. Or perhaps the police officer was in cahoots with this madman and sent him to us, which is how he knew we were here. We were at his mercy and we were looking around to see if there was anything we could use as a weapon if he tried to take us. Then the truck driver, seeing that we were scared and backing away, explained that he had heard on the CB radio that the policeman placed a call out to see if there was anyone traveling this way that could pick Mandy up and bring her to the diner. He also heard that there were two scared young ladies here that also needed a ride back to the diner. He heard the calls but was traveling in the opposite direction, so could not help with Mandy, but was passing by by this exit, so figured he would help us. So we hesitantly got into his truck as his story sounded plausible. But then again, the more we thought about it, the more we wondered why a policeman would tell the entire truck driving world about three young girls in distress. That's just a shout out to any sicko that we were ripe for the taking. Didn't seem like a smart thing for a police officer to have done when he said he would send someone to Pick us up. We assumed he meant another police officer. Guess small town folks may have good hearts, but doesn't seem like they use their brains to the fullest extent possible. When I think about the thousands of ways this could have ended if the wrong person showed up on all of those incidents, it makes me shudder. As it turned out, the truck driver did not kill us or harm us. He actually drove us back, back to the diner. And another truck driver stopped and picked up Mandy. Mandy, of course, had no idea what Jane and I had been doing once we left her with that stranger. For all she knew, that guy could have done who knows what with us. And I felt bad that she had been alone. At least I had Jane with me. She was terrified that someone else was going to stop and that she might be in danger. There were not that many cars on the highway way on that dark, lonely night. At one point she saw a semi truck pull over to the side of the road going in the opposite direction. She didn't think that much about it since it was on the other side. Trucks and cars stop all the time for various reasons. But when she saw the truck driver get out of his truck and walk across the highway straight toward her at that point, she was really frightened. Why would he be doing that? She. She had no idea that a call had gone out on the CB radios. She started to shrink down in her seat, hoping that he would think no one was in the car. But he kept coming. When he was finally at her window, she had something in her hand for a weapon. I think it was a hairbrush or something just as useless. And she just very slightly cracked the window so she could hear what he was saying. He asked if she was Mandy. What? She was so confused as to how he knew her name. Crazy thoughts went through her head in just a few seconds. Did that stranger we went with have a crazed buddy who was now coming to harm her? The truck driver explained how the policeman had put a call out on the CB radio asking for help. He was going the opposite direction, but stopped and came over to make sure she was safe and to wait while another truck driver buddy headed in the right direction and would pick her up shortly after and take her to the diner to meet up with us. She wasn't 100% sure that this was on the up and up, but since he seemed okay and the story sounded somewhat reasonable and he hadn't asked her to open the door or anything like that and stood far enough away that she felt safe, she decided to trust that what he was saying was the truth. Sure enough, about five minutes later, another trucker pulled over. They chatted and then he said he would take Mandy to the diner. So up she gets into the truck, just like us on our few occasions, getting into vehicles with strangers praying that he was not going to kill her. And off they go up the road toward the next exit. We were four for four that night. This trucker did indeed drive her to the diner where we all had hugged and cried and were so thankful for the kindness of these small town strangers. At that point we were just tired and hungry and ready to get this horrible night over with. The diner food was horrid and unlike the nice truck drivers, the patrons and waitresses did not seem overwhelmed with us and were rather snippy and rude to us. But we just ate and then headed to that creepy little motel next door. The night clerk was just like you would expect at a spooky little hotel next to a dark highway and even darker woods behind it. He was sullen and acted like we were bothering him. We asked for a room with double beds. He gave us a key to a room but the key would not work so we had to trudge back to the front of the motel. All three of us went together. We were not splitting up or leaving anyone alone anymore that night and he was not very happy happy with us at all. He gave us another key to the room and after a bit of working we finally got the door open. There was only one double bed, so back to the front of the motel we go. We politely reminded him that we needed two double beds. There were three of us after all. He acted like he was just so exasperated with us he begrudgingly handed us the key to another room. We trek on back down down to the room which of course was room 13. I know he did that on purpose. We opened the door again with a tricky lock and of course there is only one double bed. Wow. We went back again because now we were pissed. We need two double beds please. And he said in his surly manner, we don't have have any rooms with double beds available. He said there was a fold up cot in the closet. Nice. We were just too tired to even worry about it. So we made our way back into room 13 and just wanted to get some sleep and lament about how we were not going to get to that concert. But we started looking around and realized that this room was so nasty and we saw some roaches. We just lay laid on top of the bed and cot in our clothes and prayed for this night to be over and for mourning and our sanity to come. Jane's father did arrive early the next morning. He called a tow truck. He took us home and we were so happy to never see that ho dunk town ever again. And in case you were wondering, no, we never did make it to Houston for the concert. Really bummed about that and the cause of the engine mishap. Apparently Jane's brother had filled up the oil in her car before we started on our trip and was haphazard about the whole thing. Got oil all over the engine, thus it heated and caught fire. I imagine engines are made differently these days so things like this don't happen, but back then, her brother's laziness could have cost us everything. We just felt lucky to have made it out alive. This story takes place in the summer of 2017. For reference, my friend and I were young teenage girls at the time. We were hanging out one night and we decided to go on a walk around the pond that was not too far away from my house. It was, as some would say, pitch black outside, although there was some dull light due to the periodically placed street lights. We left my house and began walking up the street in the darkness. All was fine and we quickly made it to the pond without any issues. We ended up stopping at one end of the pond to take a break on a bench. This bench happened to be right under a light, so if anyone were also at the pond they could see us as we were illuminated by the light, but we could not directly see anyone else. We talked for a little while as we moved out onto the dimly lit pond and after a few minutes I noticed some movement off in the distance. It appeared to be a group of silhouettes approaching us. I am pretty aware of the dangers that exist in the world and I am quite the paranoid person. This being said, I quickly alerted my friend to the presence of what I assumed was a group of people swiftly coming our way. It should be noted that we were not in the best of areas and there were usually suspicious activities that took place at night. We debated for a short moment about what we should do. The first option was to keep safe sitting on the bench and assume that they were harmless individuals who wouldn't say or do anything to us. And the other option was to take no chances with these strangers who had us outnumbered and make a run for it back to my house. We quickly chose the latter and got back on our feet. We started off with a speed walk, but as I kept looking back to check on the mysterious group of people approaching us, I realized that they too were picking up speed. This is when my fear truly kicked in and my friend and I began to full on run. I regularly looked back at the group as we continued to run and I noticed that they began closing the distance between us. We still could not make out any features of the people due to the lack of lighting, so we were just blindly running from these mysterious people. I eventually arrived at my house and hid in my yard while waiting for my friend who is much shorter and not the fastest runner. She made it back a short while after me and we went inside making sure to lock the doors behind us when we were discussing it after the fact, she said that when she was running she wasn't looking back to check on them, so we don't actually know if they attempted to follow us the whole way home or miraculously gave up. We honestly don't even know what happened. If these people meant no harm, they were certainly not doing the best at showing that, but if they were indeed evil doers of some kind, well then I am glad that we dashed away when we did. This happened when I was 15 in early 2018. I was young and stupid, so don't blame me for the mistakes and choices I made. When I first met him, I honestly didn't think we were related at all. All of my family has light tan, dark brown eyes and the same sharp nose. In all honesty, I couldn't believe he was my aunt's son. He was pale, so pale that he looked ghostly. His eyes were sunken from obvious lack of sleep and he was heavier than most kids our age. His hair was black and he was an inch taller than me. And in sharp contrast to his mother, he was mean, cold and cunning. Over the next year he would constantly threaten me and especially threaten my brother out of spite and hate. If I'm being serious, he had always given me major sketch vibes. His humor was twisted and dark. Humor is funny, don't get me wrong, but his jokes were just flat out disgusting. I tried to avoid him when I could, but it proved futile every time since he knew I would not put up with his bs. You're all bite, he told me once. I almost punched him in the face then. Pity that I didn't. One day we were walking in the park alone and we were just talking about school. Normally I would avoid him altogether, but I decided to play nice since I didn't want my tia to get upset that I didn't like her son. I tried to seem interested in what he was saying but it was hard, especially considering the amount of things I could have been doing instead. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he says to me, I could kill you, you know. I spun my head around to look at him. He was staring right into me, his charcoal eyes digging holes in my head. What did you just say to me? I asked, squaring my chest, preparing for a scuffle. I didn't care if my aunt yelled at me. I wanted to put this kid in his place. Nothing, he said, and he turned to start talking to his mom. Rightfully so. I avoided him even more now, ever the more cautious of not being alone with him until one specific day when he was accompanying me and his sister to a barbecue next to a river. I knew I hated the idea of him coming with us. He knew I hated him and made it his goal to annoy me. While we were there, he talked constantly, never being quiet for more than two minutes. He purposely dropped my burger when bringing it to me, and when he jumped out of the water, he shook his head like a dog getting water all over me. I tried so hard to just try and have a good time, but it was hard when he was so hell bent on annoying me. Then he sat next to me. I kept talking to his sister, trying not to meet his gaze. Then he leaned in and repeated what he said the other day. I could kill you, you know. I stood up and walked into the woods, telling them both that I was going on a walk. After marching my way far enough into the woods, I sat down next to some brush and I just sat and calmed down for around 10 minutes before I heard someone trudging towards me. I knew it was a human. The struggling of walking over the rough terrain and the heavy footsteps clued me into who it was. I was in the middle of turning, going to say something to him, but I see a long knife, the same one we had been cutting the meat with. I jump as fast as I can into the brush, covering myself in the leaves and dirt, suddenly grateful for my father's lessons of the outdoors, harsh as they were. I am by no means religious, but when I see his face and the smile he has plastered on, I start to pray to any God I can think of. He doesn't say anything, doesn't call out to me. Nothing. The overwhelming urge to vomit consumes me and adrenaline begins to pump through my body. I inhale deeply, trying my hardest to keep calm, but. But I hear something. Someone breathing behind me. I make a break for it. I try to scream, but he's bigger than Me by a ton and way heavier. He cups his hand over my mouth and holds the knife to a weak point in my back. The same point he had slammed something into me when we were kids. He knew how much I hated anything touching that spot. So he drags the knife down my back, beginning to laugh with all the courage I have ever had in my life. I bite into his hands so hard I taste blood. He screams, but he doesn't let his arm drop from around me. I position my arm just enough so the knife wouldn't hit so deeply and I slam my elbow into his nose, his knife digging into my shoulder. Now I scream bloody murder. And he lets go to try and stem the blood from his nose, which, to my amusement, I later found out was broken. Clutching my shoulder, I ran as fast as I could back to my other cousin who had come looking for us. Seeing as we had been gone for almost 15 minutes at that point, I can only imagine what a sight that would have been. A knife basically falling out of my shoulder and her brother following behind me with a bloodied, crooked nose and a bleeding hand. Upon seeing the knife, she rushed over to me. In a couple of seconds she realized what had happened. We booked it to the car, locked the doors and proceeded to call the police. The funniest part to me is that he had tried to flee, the fool. The cops found him after 10 minutes and arrested him outright. I gave my statement and filed for a restraining order. To cut an already long story short, he got seven years of aggravated assault and me and his sister testified against him. His mom won't accept what he has done and believes that we, we being his sister and I, were screwing around with dangerous people and I got stabbed. Because of this incident, a considerable amount of my family doesn't like me. The only thing I can say is, Josh, you better hope we never meet again again. Fresh out of college in 2010, I purchased my first home for me and my young son. The woman who lived there before me died of heart failure in her 50s. Soon after moving in, we found a stray skinny puppy who had a horrible skin infection and just needed a lot of love and care. We took him in, named him Crypto, and nursed him back to health. He was a great dog, so protecting and adventurous, but incredibly loving and sweet to everyone. Krypto had continued medical issues all throughout his two short, nearly eight years of life, from severe cases of unexplained hives to tumors on his foot to a mysterious disease that ultimately caused his liver to fail. The latter ailment came and went with treatment for the last three years of his life. Outside of camping, hiking, playing in the park. Kind of fun stuff, Krypto and I spent countless hours at the vet trying to find out why his body was failing him. So we became close in ways I have never felt with another animal or human. Eventually, towards the end of 2017, crypto was getting sicker and sicker, refusing to eat much at all. There was really nothing else to be done, so one evening in mid October, I heartbreakingly took him to the vet to be euthanized. I was with him until the end and I miss him incredibly. Rewind maybe a week or two. I was obviously very consumed by my dog who I love, as if he were my child being in pain and suffering while coming to terms with him likely dying sooner than later. I do not recall totally clearly how the message first appeared, but on our everyday plane run of the mill microwave I noticed a notification. Prior to this day, I never noticed that this microwave had a method message button, nor has a message button been on any of the many microwaves I have seen since. One day in early October 2017, I noticed a banner across the readout display of the microwave indicating an unheard message with a small red light lit up on the button as if beckoning to be pressed. So I pressed the message button and a recording played. The message lasted about 10 seconds and sounded like mostly static, but there was clearly someone speaking in what appeared to be a deep Southern inflection. My initial reaction was that's weird, but I thought surely there was a reasonable explanation of some sort. The microwave had been in the house when I moved in seven years earlier, so who knows what was on it before me. Maybe there was a power power blip in the microwave malfunctioned, so it brought up some old message someone recorded a long time ago that somehow got stored on the microwave. But who knows? Why is there even a message button at all? But I had my dog to worry about, so I put the microwave static message out of my mind, but not before telling my boyfriend who had just moved in with us a few months earlier. After hearing the stat voice in the microwave, he became somewhat obsessed with deciphering what the message said. He would wake up and play the message, come home from work and play the message over and over, thinking that he was picking up words here and there. I could not muster the energy to be as enthusiastic as he was, even though I definitely found it to be very odd. My beloved dog was dying and that was all I could feel and think about outside of normal life. Fast forward back to one of the hardest days my son and I have had together. My boyfriend was working late so by the time he came home I was fully wallowing in my grief, feelings of loss and perceived failure as a first time dog mom. But he was right back obsessing over this message in the microwave as usual. After a while I make my way into the kitchen to ask him to please come hang out with me. When I walk into the kitchen he looks at me and stone faced tells me that he knows what it says. I'm like okay what? But he doesn't want to tell me. I told him he needs to tell me and that I want to know now because he is acting like something is wrong, like what could the message possibly say that is so terrible that he doesn't think I should know now when before he wanted to know so badly. Eventually he tells me to just listen for myself and I will hear it clearly. So just as I did before, I pressed the message button and the message played just as before. But this time there was not the overwhelming static. This time the recording played a deep drawl of a man's voice, clearly state matter of fact as if he was telling you what he had for lunch. That feller right there. He is going to die soon. To this day I have no explanation as to how the message got in the microwave or why there was even a message button at all. I can also not explain why suddenly that night the message came through so clearly after the hundreds of times my boyfriend had played the recording in the days prior. No one in my direct family or circle has a deep southern drawl like the one I heard, so I am certain it did not come from anyone. I know we have speculated over the years, sometimes rationally, other times less so, but this is one of the few experiences in my life my boyfriend and I both just do not have a reasonable explanation for was someone in my house or something less reasonable. One night when I was around 7 or 8 I had a very strange nightmare. At that age I was a latchkey kid which means when I got home from school I was there alone for about an hour, hour or two until my parents or older siblings got home. I loved the house I grew up in. It was awesome. But dang it, it could be creepy at times. It was not that well made to begin with and my parents built most of the added on rooms themselves. It was a large two story house that sat on an acre of land, but it was not in the Best part of town as it sat on the outskirts of a quickly growing city. City. I tell you this because in my dream I had just got home from school like normal. I locked the locks we had on the door and went to put my backpack in my room. Only after I turned around from locking the door, I stopped. I felt something was different. I felt there was someone here. Someone in the house. Worse, I knew they were watching me. Even though it's over 20 years since I had the dream, I recall very clearly standing still and trying to listen for any odd sounds. Trying to listen for footsteps or breathing or anything that would be out of place. But all I heard was the creaks and groans of the house. Very scared, I started to tiptoe about. This was before there were cell phones and there were not any neighbors that that I knew well enough that I could go to. At least any that would be home. And at that age, I don't think I knew my mom's phone number, let alone one of my parents work numbers. The only thing I could think to do is if I saw someone in the house, I would run outside and keep running until a grown up helped me. So I went upstairs slowly and quietly, poking my head just above the stairwell to see if there was anyone there. But no. No one was there. But the feeling of being watched continued. I looked at each room upstairs, knowing that whoever it was was watching me. As strange as it sounds, doing this made him feel even closer. It made me visualize in my head a dark outline of a man that was here with me. After checking every room, I traveled back downstairs. At this point I was so scared that I almost was in tears. Then I saw that dark outline in the corner of my eye. In reaction, I turned to look at it. But when I did, there was nothing there. I even did a360 thinking that he must have moved. But there was no one there. Then I saw it again out of the corner of my eye, but this time on the other side. Once again I turned to look, but there was nothing there. Now, at that age, I was a kid, a true kid that got scared, played with Ninja Turtles and watched Ghostbusters. I wasn't psychic, nor did I talk to ghosts or anything like that. So when I kept seeing that dark shape out of the corner of my eye repeatedly, I did the only thing I could think to do in my scared state. Run. When I entered the living room, I somehow knew it was behind me. Not sure why I knew it was there as I don't remember feeling heat or Hearing breathing, but I knew it was there, so I took off running. Being a stupid kid, I didn't think to run towards the right side of the room which would lead to the back of the house where the back door was. But I ran towards the left side of the room because it led to the police. Closest room that I knew had a lock, which was the downstairs bathroom. I ran as fast as I could, feeling that figure behind me inches away. I ran into the small hallway in which the bathroom was at the end. As I ran, the darkness was sort of overtaking me. Now that I'm older, I can relate it to how a butterfly net is when you swing it in to grab a butterfly. It was overtaking me as I ran, and I could see it at both sides. This whole bit would have lasted maybe three or four seconds total, but to me, it was slowed down. Just as I ran inside the bathroom and passed the door frame, hands grabbed my neck. Strong, cold hands wrapped around my neck. Instantly, I went cold and everything stopped. Everything went black. This is when I woke up. When I woke up, I screamed. Not because I just had the worst nightmare of my life, but because someone was holding me tight. My mother was sitting on my bed, having grabbed me in a hug, and was rocking me back and forth. Now, I know this may sound creepy, but it wasn't. She was scared and crying. Here's what truly makes this memory creepy. She. She had a nightmare too. In hers, she felt that a dark, unknown figure wanted to do her harm. And so in her nightmare, she dreamed that she awoke to do her normal morning routine. Since she woke up at four in the morning for work, she would often go about her routine in the dark to not wake my father. She went to the bathroom, but when entered, she felt something tap against her left shoulder right past the door. It actually happened a few times. Confused by this, as she wasn't fully awake and it was pitch black, she turned on the light. That's when she saw me dead, hanging from a noose at the same location that I felt the thing grab me in my nightmare. It was there that she knew that the dark figure did the worst possible thing it could do her, which was to kill me. That nightmare shook her badly. So bad, in fact, that she rushed to my room in the middle of the night and held me, thankful that I was alive. She described it in the same way that I did, that it was the most realistic dream she ever had. Neither of us went back to bed that night. Instead, we had graham crackers and milk to try and wash the nightmares away. Then we turned on the radio and played it so softly not to wake anyone. And most of all we kept all the lights on in the kitchen. Years later, I have no clue why this happened, nor do I have any explanation and as to what or who the dark figure was, I don't know. Never felt it before or after. The house I grew up could be very creepy at times, but there was a lot of love there as we were alone, large happy family, so it wasn't like it was filled with doom and gloom. I did experience a few weird and scary things over the years that I can't really explain, but by no means could say it was haunted. Over the years I have had a few conversations with my mom about that night as she is by far the kindest person I have ever known. I fully believe her when she said that she doesn't know what it could have been. It could have been just a billion and one chance that we both happened to have had a similar nightmare on the same night. But in my heart that doesn't feel right. That figure was real. To this day, anytime I see something in the corner of my eye, I get a tinge of fear from that nightmare. It's a horrible feeling too. Makes me feel like a scared little kid again, standing in that house and knowing that figure is watching me. I want to start off by saying that I have never told this story to anyone. It all started about two weeks ago when I moved into my new apartment. I was all moved in and everything because I live alone so I didn't really have much stuff to unpack. Later that day I grabbed my purse and keys to go to work for the day. I was walking to my car when I saw someone start to approach me. It was a woman who looked to be at least 45 to 55 years old. It was very obvious that she was a smoker. She also looked sleep deprived, skinny and frail. She had very noticeable eye bags that seemed to get worse the more I looked at them. Hello miss, you must be the new neighbor, said the old woman with an extremely damaged voice caused by years of smoking. Yeah, I just moved here about three days ago. I responded as polite as possible. Then I noticed she had something in her hands that she hid behind her. She looked really excited to show me. Then she noticed I saw it and it seemed to make her even more excited that she had a huge smile on her face. It was horrible. Her teeth were uneven and rotting. She was missing teeth and her gums looked like they had been bleeding earlier her lips were blistered and dry. She scared the absolute crap out of me. I want you to meet someone, she said in a kind of sing songy voice. She showed me what she was hiding behind her. Her name is Jambalaya. It was a very strange looking doll that resembled a coconut. Oh, thank you. It's nice to meet her. I just told her what she probably wanted to hear to avoid any drama. I also had to wrap things up soon before I was late for work. I'm sorry but I have to get to work. I'll see you later ma', am, I said in an apologetic tone. No need to be formal. You can call me Emma. She said right before I could get in my car. I nodded in response and get in my car, turned it on and pulled out of the parking lot. I looked in my rearview mirror for a split second and saw that the woman was dead staring at me while rocking that weird doll. I concluded that she was probably under the influence judging by her attitude and the look of her after work. I was driving home around 5:05 and I pulled into the parking lot. When I drove in I saw Emma in the middle of the parking lot, just sitting in the middle of the road playing with jambalaya. What is she doing? I whispered to myself in complete complete shock as I drove past her. She saw me in my car and gave me a sinister rotten smile. I smiled back, trying my best to keep my composure. I parked and stepped out of my car. Please don't come over here. Please don't come over here. I repeated in my mind as I walked to the entrance. I avoided eye contact as best as I could but ended up looking at her because I heard her say no singing something. I kept walking but I also kept looking at her. Jambalaya, Jambalaya, Jambalaya. She sang in a low creepy voice. She sang it slow and she kept repeating that doll's name. I walked a little faster and right before I walked in I looked back to see if she was still singing. She wasn't. She was standing holding that doll in one hand and the other was on her heart. She was visibly upset. For some reason. We were just standing there staring at each other for what felt like hours. Then I broke my trance and mouthed an apology and walked in, not looking back. This time. As soon as I walked to my apartment I locked my door. Emma freaked me out and I didn't want to be around her. I mean she isn't hostile or anything but she gives me the creeps. I put my stuff down and Walked to my room, turned on the lights, flopped on my bed, sighed. I got back up and started cleaning up my mess. I walked to the window, slightly scared for what I might see. Nobody. I was relieved. Part of me was expecting Emma to be looking at me from my window. I woke up at an uncertain time and looked over to my bedside table to pick up my phone. Realizing that it was 4:30 in the morning. I tried to figure out why. I woke up and turned the bedside light on because I was wide awake for some reason. It was kind of an unnerving feeling because I didn't understand what was happening. As I was lying there in my bed, I started hearing weird tapping noises and I froze. Being the person that always listens to scary stories and has become a little paranoid, I started to freak out. I didn't know if I should get up and go see what was happening or just stay in my bed and wait for it to pass. The tapping stopped after about a minute and I just heard shuffles and something like a whisper. At this point I was definitely freaking out and really didn't know what I should do. All of a sudden everything went quiet for about five minutes. I was still too scared to get up when all of a sudden my front door slammed super loud. This scared me so badly. I got up from my bed super fast, looking in every room to try and figure out what just happened. I didn't see anything, so I started to freak out even more more thinking I was going crazy. The last place I checked was the bathroom and I looked in the shower to see if somebody was hiding in there. To my surprise, there was something in there, but it wasn't a human. And after I saw what it was, I realized who had been in my apartment. It was Jambalaya. I have no idea why she wanted to break into my apartment just to leave this stupid doll in my bathtub. It makes no sense and I still have no idea why she did it. After this event, I realized how crazy this woman really was and how dangerous she could be. How was she able to break into my apartment and how long was she in there for? And what exactly was she doing other than just leaving a doll in my bathtub? That morning I looked around the whole house trying to figure out just how she broke in. After about 10 minutes of searching the house and checking every door and window, I noticed that my bathroom window was unlocked and even still opened ajar. This freaks me out so much and I instantly became mad at myself for forgetting something as important as walking all of your Windows and doors to make sure they're locked. I knew right away this is how she managed to break in and she must have just went out the front door because it was easier. I went to the apartment manager and staff and explained everything that had been going on and how I would possibly be moving out soon due to this crazy person I was living next to. Thankfully, they understood my situation and said that they would be talking to Emma about what had happened. They offered me next month's rent for free if I stayed. I decided to accept this offer since I had just recently moved in and didn't have a lot of money. Around a week later, after nothing happened, I heard from the apartment staff that Emma was getting arrested and possibly getting sent to a mental ward. They explained to me that after the manager had tried to talk with her about what was going on and had her confess to breaking into my apartment, she became furious about everything and denied the whole thing. She had a mental freakout and was taking it out on the manager just because he tried to talk to her about her actions. This led to her getting aggressive and being arrested. I have to say I was pretty happy about the news of her being arrested because that meant I didn't have to worry about her anymore and it gave me a lot of hope for my new apartment. I threw that doll away and decided to move on with my life that year. After all this crap. It was actually one of the best years of my life because I was able to build my self confidence which in my opinion led to me becoming a much better person. Obviously this woman had issues and I really hope that she is getting the help she needs. This happened about 15 or 20 years ago. It was Halloween and our kids, who were probably around 8 and 10 at the time, were planning to go trick or treating that night with their friends and cousins. My sister was going to be the adult with them and my husband and I were just going to stay home and give out the candy at our house. I had done my share of taking the kids trick or treating for many, many years and was looking forward to just staying home and handing out candy to the other neighborhood kids. We live in a very nice neighborhood on a cul de sac. We know most of our neighbors and while we do lock our doors at night, we had never had any issues with crime in the area. So being the victim of a crime, especially in our safe, safe neighborhood, was the last thing on my mind. I was the first to arrive home that day, having just arrived home from work. Our kids were at my sister's house who lived a few neighborhoods over. They went there after school since she was home and I didn't like for our kids to be home alone after school and it was so fortunate that they had not been home alone. We had a cleaning person that came to clean twice a month and that was her her day to clean. She had a key to our home so she cleaned while we were all out of the house. She did a fantastic job, but she had a habit of putting everything away to make the house look clean. I had repeatedly asked her not to, but I think she was just so set in her ways, feeling that a house just does not look clean with things lying around. So I knew that my first half hour home would be spent trying to find the things that she put away. It would sometimes take us days to find things after she had cleaned. So I was busy trying to unwind from the workday, trying to find some things that the cleaning lady had stored away who knows where and was thinking about what to make the kids for dinner. I didn't have much time as the kids would want to go out trick or treating soon, so I was a bit distracted. While I did notice a few odd things here and there in the house, I was not concerned. First I noticed a large rock that was on the floor in the hallway area where my kitchen, dining room and laundry room meet. Odd, but I just picked it up and threw it away. I could not think of any reason for it to be there, but did not have time to ponder on it and just soon forgot about it. The next odd thing I noticed was that the long heavy stick that is normally kept standing up in a corner corner of the laundry room for a reason I can't even remember now was laying across our bed in the downstairs master bedroom. I just assumed that for some strange reason the cleaning lady left it there. Again, very odd, but not concerning. I also noticed that the sliding glass door in our bedroom that opened to the backyard was slightly open, but again I was not alarmed because I assumed that cleaning lady had opened the door to shake out a rug or something and just did not close it all the way. The sliding door was not easy to slide. I had been asking my husband to fix that but he just never got around to it so I thought perhaps she just could not get it closed. We are in a safe neighborhood so I was not concerned about anything more than bugs getting into the house through the open door. And we have a six foot high security fence so it's not like anyone would even know that the door Was open. Next odd thing. Just that day, a friend had asked if he could borrow our camcorder. So I went looking for it. We normally kept it on the counter below the china cabinet in the dining room, but I was not surprised when it wasn't there as I assumed the cleaning lady had put it away somewhere. But I looked everywhere I could think of that she would possibly have stored it. No luck. I had no more time to waste on looking, so I called her to ask her where she had put it. She assured me that it was on the counter where she left it. I believed her and never for a moment thought she took it. So that was strange. It was nowhere to be found. Shortly thereafter, my husband came home. A few minutes later, he asked me why there was glass on the laundry room floor. I had not even gone in there after I got home. Just walked right by that room without a glance in my haste. So I hadn't noticed it. I was bummed because that meant we had to clean it up and would have to replace the window. I didn't have time for this. Still, nothing seemed sinister to me. After cleaning up the broken glass and while my husband prepared to gather the wooden tools he would need to secure the broken window until we could get it replaced, I went back to my walk in closet to change my clothes. When I opened my jewelry box to take off my watch and rings I had worn that day, I saw that my jewelry box was completely empty. Not one thing left in it. Okay, now you have my attention. I went out to tell my husband and we were completely dumbfounded. Then I gasped as the sudden realization of what had actually happened came to me. We were robbed. I started putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone had broken the window to our laundry room with the rock I found on the floor. That window was on the side of the house so neighbors would not see them. They most likely kept the rock in their hand to use as a weapon in case there was anyone in the house. When they saw the large heavy stick stick in the laundry room, they figured that would make a better weapon. So just dropped the rock on the floor where I found it and continued into the house with the stronger weapon. They must have gone quickly through the house gathering up anything small that they thought was of value. Then they left through the sliding door in the master bedroom, laying the stick on our bed before they left. Then they would have had to climb over the six foot fence in our yard to get out. So since both gates on the sides of the house are locked as it was the end of October. It gets dark as early as 4:30 or 5pm so they would have had the COVID of darkness to make their escape unseen. After a search of the house, there were many items missing, including the camcorder, a new set of walkie talkies we had just gotten for the kids that were kept in the cabinet above where the camcorder had been. Every single piece of my jewelry and a few more small items. Nothing from the upstairs was taken, so they must have been trying to be quick about it. The only satisfaction I took was that all of my jewelry, which was nice and looked expensive, was all just costume jewelry. They thought that they assumed that they had struck gold but would soon find out they would not get much for any of it and that made me smile. So we called the police and they came and took our statement. My kids and their friends were wide eyed with the police there and cops in our house and with the police car lights flashing. But my sister quickly whisked them off for their night of trick or treating. Apparently there was a full handprint on the upper window pane that the burglar broke as he must have placed his hands on the upper pane to try and slide it up before realizing it was locked or to push it up after he broke and unlocked the lower window pane. But those fingerprints were not in the criminal database system, so it wasn't anyone that had been caught before. We never did find out who it was, but we had our suspicions that it was someone in the construction crew that had been working on one of the houses in the cul de sac for weeks so they would have seen us leave for school and work. There was nothing taken that could not be repaired, placed, and I am just so thankful that no one was home when they broke in. If my son or daughter or even my husband or I had been home alone or walked in when the intruder was in there, he most likely would have used that weapon on us. I don't think of this incident often these days, but when I do, I shiver thinking about how tragic this one small home invasion could have become. The intruder holding that weapon while still searching the house is proof he would have done us harm. We are so thankful that no one was home during that time. We have big dogs now and there is absolutely zero chance that anyone will be breaking into this house ever again. At least not without risking their lives. Come on in, my dogs dare you. I am a 60 year old female now, so I grew up in a much simpler world. There were no cell phones, no Computers, no video games, no social media. We spent all of our playtime outside. We used something called imagination and it was a fabulous time to grow up. I was the youngest of the family. I have two sisters and one brother. We lived in a poor, small, close knit community outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania from the time I was born until I was 11 years old. My brother and my oldest sister had their own friends, so I did not really associate with them outside of our house. The sister closest in age to me, Maggie, was always, always stuck watching out for me. But it wasn't so bad, at least for me, as all of our friends were from the neighborhood and we all knew each other. My childhood, at least from my recollection, was idyllic. Maggie may have a different perspective as the one that was forced to always have me tag along. Those were the days when children spent every weekend and summer day playing outside. We only went home for lunch and dinner and only went in for the night once the street lights came on. Our parents never worried about us getting into danger. They did worry about us doing stupid things, which we often did. But as far as being hurt by strangers, that was not a concern back then by any of the parents in the neighborhood. The kids always traveled in packs, so we were pretty safe on our own. I am saddened by all of the horror stories that you hear about these days days. All the creeps and I used to just shake my head and think what has happened to this world? We never had to worry about creeps like that when I was growing up. I don't recall ever hearing anything about people like this when I was young. And we were never lectured about stranger danger the way kids need to be these days. Back then, adults were not to be feared, but were to be respected and trusted. And I did. But then I remembered three very specific incidents that happened when I was young. And I wonder if times haven't really changed much at all. I think I was just too young and naive at the time to understand the significance of what happened. Let me set the scene for the first two incidents. There was a park and a playground that was about a 15 minute walk from our neighborhood. And all of us anywhere from about 6 to 10 kids would go there almost every day in the summer for as long as I could remember while we lived in that city. We would stop at the local dime store on our way back to pick up whatever treats our small allowances would afford us and then just hang out at the park doing kids stuff all day long. We had many fun days at that park. There was a dark spooky path at the back of the park that led down through the woods. All of our parents threatened us with our lives if we ever dared to go into these woods. The woods were way too dangerous a place for kids our age to be entering with no adults. The water fountain and bathrooms were located at the very edge of the woods near the path. So we would be near the entrance to the woods quite a bit, but were forbidden to ever actually go down the path to the woods at that time. It was one of those things that we were always curious about but so far had not had the courage courage to actually do. We all pretended like it was because our parents forbade us to enter, but in actuality it was because we were all too scared. It was really spooky. The first incident happened in our local park when I was around five years old. Maggie was around six and a half or seven years old. Back in those days, even the youngest kids were out and about all day with no thoughts of danger as long as we were all together. One day I was at the water fountain by myself getting a drink of water. Maggie and all of our friends were at the other end of the park. I just popped over to grab a drink and was intending to run back to my group. I hadn't even told Maggie as I was never supposed to be alone at the park, but she was busy doing something with our friends and I just didn't feel like asking her permission so I went alone. While I was sipping water, a young man came over to me and said his puppy had run down the path into the woods and was lost and he asked if I would help him find his puppy. He even offered to give me 50 cents if I would help rescue his puppy. Now my memory could be way off on this, but when I think of him now, I remember him as being about late teens, very early 20s, and he looked like David Koresh, if you know who that is. Anyway, hearing the words lost puppy and money, I was definitely intrigued. I had always loved puppies, but we were not allowed to own pets where we lived. Plus my weekly allowance was much lower than all of my friends allowances and 50 cents back then was like $50 now to a poor kid my age. I was too young to understand that someone older than me could have easily evil intentions, so I did not consider his request to be dangerous. My only hesitation was that if my mom found out I was into the woods, she would have my hide. Plus the fact that the woods were very spooky and I was scared to go in there, but I would be with an older person, so perhaps it wouldn't be so scary. So the puppy and the money incentive won out and I took the man's hand and we started to walk toward the path to the woods. I remember being a little scared of entering the forbidden woods and what might happen if my mom found out, but at the same time being so excited that I might actually get to hold a little puppy and have enough money to buy all of the yummy candy that I wanted. Just as we stepped on the path and were walking into the woods, my sister came running over and asked what I was doing. I explained to her that I was going to help this nice man find his lost puppy and that he was going to pay me 50 cents. She ran over and grabbed my hand and said, no, you are not. She dragged me forcibly back to where our friends were hanging out and told me to never go anywhere with someone I did not know. I was crying and upset that she ruined my chance at being able to find the puppy and earn money. I don't recall exactly what happened after. After that. I do not know where the man went, but now assume he took off running as soon as my sister grabbed my hand. And I don't remember if I was even told just how dangerous that situation really was. She probably just told me that I would get into trouble from my mom if she found out I went into the woods. I was too young to understand the true motivations of someone like that. All I know now is that my sister literally saved my life that day. I would either have been kidnapped or worse. No matter which, my idyllic childhood and possibly my life would have vanished forever. The second incident regarding the woods was the day we all actually did walk down the path into the woods. I was probably six or seven at the time. I cannot remember what led up to us actually taking that walk into the park. But I can only imagine that there were days and probably weeks of planning and getting up the courage to do this, but we actually did it. Curiosity eventually won out. We had to know what was down that path. So off we went. Very nervous, but also excited. At first it seemed so nice and pretty and safe. We were wondering what all the fuss was about and why our parents didn't want us in there. But after about five or ten minutes down the path, the woods got thicker, which made the sky darker. Until soon we were in the midst of a very scary, spooky forest and we did not see anyone else on the path. We had no idea where the path led to, so we weren't sure how long it would take to get to the other side. One by one, we started losing our bravado. But no one wanted to be the first to be called chicken. But we were city kids and had never actually been into the woods or forest, so this was all new and creepy. After about 20 minutes of trudging into the ever more scary forest, hearing wildlife sounds we were not used to, and worrying about what else was in the woods that might jump out at us, we started discussing whether we should turn around or keep going. We were struggling with what to do as we had come this far and not to find out what was on the other end of the path was going to bother us. We were really spooked by the fact that there were no other people walking along the path. Either way, we know we had seen people enter the path to the woods before, so why wasn't there anyone now? We would have been so happy to see other people, to know we were not going to die in these woods alone. But there was no one. It was getting much too dark for us to bear, and without knowing how much further the path went on, and actually not even knowing where we would end up if we did take the path to the end, we all came to an agreement that we would turn around and head back. Just when we turned around and started walking back the way we came, we noticed a group of people walking toward us. Wow, were we ever glad to see them. We all let out sighs of relief and even briefly discussed how we would follow them and actually take the trail to the other end after all. But the closer we came to the group of people, the more worried we became. It was a group of about five or six older teenagers, girls and boys, and they did not look friendly. We collectively made our way to the right side of the path, heads down, hoping they would not pay attention to us and would just leave us alone. But that was not to be. They started harassing us us and were reaching out like they were going to hit us, which would make us flinch and they would laugh. I was the youngest of the group and I was terrified. Some of them actually took swings at some of the others in my group and we were no match for these older kids. I was crying and everyone was yelling and I was afraid we were all going to be beat to a pulp. I was so confused. I did not understand why they would want to hurt us. They didn't even know us and we had done nothing to make them mad at us. Just as things were getting really bad. Thankfully there were some adults coming down the path and they ran over to see what was going on. The older kids that were bothering us started running in the opposite direction and we were finally safe. That's twice I was spared unknown horrors by the hands of strangers. Our race rescuers made sure we were okay and actually walked with us back to the park where we first entered the woods to make sure we made it out safely. Needless to say, we never went back into those woods again. The third incident occurred when I was a few years older, probably around 7 or 8. I was walking down a small alley near our neighborhood with one of my best friends and her husky dog. I will preface this by saying saying that I was a very naive and innocent kid, while thankfully my friend was much more street smart. A car pulled up slowly beside us and the driver was a middle aged, nondescript looking man. Well, I say middle aged because in my young mind anyone older than 20 was old. He could have been in his 20s for all I know. His window was rolled down and he had said something in a low voice to us. I had no idea what he was saying, but my friend just ignored him and told me to keep walking. I thought she was being very rude and as I said before, I was taught to always treat adults with respect. So I stopped and got closer to the passenger side window which was rolled down and asked him what he said. He repeated, would you guys like to play with this? I saw he had his hand hands in his lap holding something, but I could not see what it was. I assumed it must have been a toy or something. I have no idea. He asked us again if we would like to play with this. As I got in closer to get a better look, my friend grabbed my arm and said let's go. And we turned around and started walking back in the opposite direction that the car was facing, back toward home. I was very confused, but my friend knew that to try to explain the facts of life to me right then was not something she wanted to do. So she just told me he was a very bad man that meant to do us harm. I had absolutely no idea what she meant and why she thought he was dangerous. But we never spoke of it again that I can recall. I didn't even realize exactly what that entire incident meant until I was much older and thought of it again. So third time's a charm. I was yet again rescued from a situation that could have forever changed my life. It haunts me even today to think of how just a few short Moments could have changed my life forever. I am a female and when I was in my early 20s in the late 1970s, I drove a Volkswagen Bug that at that time had many mechanical issues. I loved that car dearly because it was the first car I ever owned, which I purchased while I was still a senior in high school. So I was determined to drive it until the engine gave out for good. At this particular time, there was an oil leak. I was too broke to actually repair the leak, but I knew exactly what to do to keep it running. I kept cans of oil and a funnel in my car at all times. When the red oil light came on, I knew I had a very small window of time to stop and add some oil. Once the oil was added, it was good to go for another week. Yeah, sounds like a lot of hassle. But I was young and stupid and broke and that was just easier than having to come up with the hundreds of dollars it would have taken to get it fixed properly. But I didn't mind. I just got used to it. I was living in Dallas, Texas, and my parents lived about 90 miles east of Dallas in a very small town. I would visit them on weekends sometimes. At that time in my life I was heavily into partying at clubs. So much so that there would come times when I just needed a break from all the partying and would go to spend the weekend with my parents now and again. Sometimes I just needed that break. And they were such great parents and they loved when I came to visit them. This was back in the days when work days were not flexible like they were today. If you wanted to keep a good job, you had to be there every day on time, no excuses. So I had to be at work on Monday mornings, bright and early. So now and then I would just get up early on that Monday morning and drive straight to work from my parents house. But since I was always paranoid about not getting up on Monday morning in time to make it to work on time, most times I would just drive home Sunday night. This particular trip, I drove home on a Sunday night. It was dark by the time I was on the road. But I wasn't concerned since I had my oil cans with me and knew how to change the oil quickly and easily. Easily like a Daytona 500 pit crew worker. And again, I was young and stupid and invincible, as all young and stupid people think they are. My parents always worried about me driving so late in that rat trap of a car, but I assured them I was fine. So off I went, tooling down a highway about halfway home, wouldn't you know it, the red oil light came on and by now it was pitch black outside. And of course, it happened on a long stretch of highway with absolutely no towns around and no lights anywhere. But I had driven this road hundreds of times and knew exactly where the exits were. Thankfully, there was an exit just up ahead and I pulled off and drove up this secluded roadway until I found a place to stop on a little side road. These little towns in Texas were way off the highway. Highway. So there was nothing around where I found myself. Not even a gas station. Nothing at all. But I was not concerned. I had my flashlight and figured I would put the oil in and be back on the highway in a few minutes. Easy peasy. My car headlights shown up on a dirt pathway in front of where I pulled my car to. And I kept the headlights on as it was the only light around. This being an old vw. Oddly enough, the engines were in the back. So while the lights wouldn't help me much during my oil endeavor, I wanted some light around me at least. As I was just about to open my door and hop out to do my pit crew thing, I looked up and noticed something in my headlights. At first I thought it was a big dog. That wouldn't have been unusual because if there was a farm further inland, they usually had dogs and the dogs always liked to roam around. I love dogs and was thinking how cute. Until I suddenly stopped and took a closer look at him. He was not a dog at all. He was a very large wolf and he did not look happy to see me. He just sat there a few yards in front of my car and was growling at me, baring his teeth. He didn't get up. He just sat there staring intently at me and continuously growling. My first instinct was to just drive to another area, but I knew that if I tried to do that, I would permanently damage my car engine and I would not only truly be stuck there, but I would be screwed without a car. When I say I had minimal time to stop and pour oil into that engine, I mean minimal. And I had all already pushed the limit getting to the place I stopped. So I sat there wondering what I was going to do. There were no cell phones back then to just call someone to help. I was on my own. I figured I had only two risk my life trying to put oil in the engine or just sit there and wait until the wolf got bored and left. I opted for the latter at first. But this creature was just. Just spooky. He didn't Move. He didn't blink, just sat there intently staring at me and growling, Showing those pointy, dangerous teeth. Not a loud growl, just a low, menacing growl, continuously. It was just so eerie. So I just sat and waited. I turned off the headlights, not only to save my battery, since I was not sure how long I would be there, but I thought perhaps he would leave if I turned them off. He didn't. So I waited. And waited. At least an hour went by with him just staring at me and growling. Spookiest thing I have ever seen. But I was about to have to choose option number two as I had to use the bathroom so badly I tried to get my mind off of it. But after 30 more minutes, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. He did not seem to be tiring of this strange standoff. But now I was even more fearful of getting out of my car. If he could sit like that and just stare and growl for an hour and a half, he was not a normal animal. So I spent another 10 or 15 minutes going over in my mind exactly how I was going to do this. This was the only time I was so thankful that the engine was in the back. No way would I want to be walking toward him and be closer to him while I had to deal with the oil. No idea what he might have done if I was out of the car and closer to him. I was glad I did not have to find out. So, with my plan in place in my head, I slowly opened my car door. I just did things very slowly, keeping my eyes on him to see if he was going to run toward me as I slowly opened the door. Door. Bit by bit, he never wavered in his stance or staring or growling. It was so scary, I was terrified. Once I was out of the car, I walked in slow motion toward the back of the car. I kept the car door open so that if he came in my direction, I could jump back in. So slowly, step by step, I walked to the back of the car. I. I didn't want to make any sudden movements that might set him off. Once back there, I opened the hood, unscrewed that oil cap and oil can, and put in some oil. I don't even think I put in the whole can. I figured I could put enough in to get to a gas station further up the highway where it was safe. And the whole time I did this, that creepy wolf did not move, still staring at me, still growling and baring his teeth, not budging at all. Once I slowly closed the hood to the engine I inched toward my car door since I would now have to walk toward him to get back in my car. I was so afraid he would take that as a threat and attack. But I made it safely to my car and slammed that door shut, turned on my car engine and backed up to get on the road, which would lead me to the highway. As soon as I put the car in gear to head toward the highway, I saw the creature turn around and just walk away slowly in the direction they came from. I don't know how any living thing, human or animal, could be so still and stare so intently and growl so unendingly for that long of a time. It wasn't normal or natural. I was shaking the rest of the way home. I didn't even stop to put more oil in and thankfully my red oil light did not come back on that night. After my parents found out what happened, my father showed up at my apartment the next week with a brand new car for me. They never wanted to have to worry about me endangering my life with a faulty car ever again. And needless to say, I never took that exit off that highway ever again. This story takes place in the summer of 2001 in Southern Rhode island where I'm from. I am a female for reference and I was 20 years old. That summer, in between my junior and senior years of college at the University University of Rhode Island, I decided to stay on campus and take some classes so my senior year would be a little lighter and be less stressful for me. So I rented a cute little apartment with a friend near campus and we loved it. There were a lot of other college students around and I enjoyed living so close to the beach. In summertime my schedule was pretty open, so even though I was working and going to school part time, I had a lot of time to myself and loved the freedom I had to do whatever I wanted. I have always been into fitness and exercise and one of my favorite things to do that summer was take my rollerblades down to the local bike path and listen to music on my earbuds while I glided down the long straight path. Every day I would drive to the bike path and park my car at the park close by to the path and rollerblade the mile long path until it ended and where another park began. Began at that second park. I would sometimes rest on one of the benches and take a little break and drink some water before turning back around to go down the bike path again and ending up at the original park where my car was two miles every Day it was fun and great exercise right up until this incident that I am about to chronicle for you. On this particular morning I slept in and was running late getting ready for my daily workout. I could not find my earbuds anywhere. They were not where I normally left them on the kitchen counter and after spending some time looking for them around the apartment without any luck, I just said screw it and decided to go exercise without them. I get to the park, put my rollerblades on and start my first mile. It was a beautiful July morning and I was enjoying myself when suddenly, unexplainably, about halfway through the mile, something felt very wrong. The temperature was in the 80s but I had goosebumps all up and down my arms and legs. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up and I had an intense sinking feeling of dread in my gut. I have always had a very strong intuition. I trust it with my life. I have felt this feeling before in the past and it has always served as a warning. But I kept on skating, becoming very aware of my surroundings. Fight or flight was kicking in and I didn't even understand why that is. When I saw him. There was a man up ahead on the trail off to the side of the path. The first thing I realized was that he was taking steps backwards off the path. He was trying to hide from me because behind a tree, but I could still see his face from a good distance away, watching me like a dead eyed predator. He stood there with his hands in his front pockets, not moving at all. I skated closer to him. The dread in my stomach grew. I noticed he was not wearing workout clothes. He had on an oversized hoodie, jeans and work boots. Nothing you would wear if you were there to exercise. Now I had to quickly make a choice. Do I stop and turn around the way I came from, possibly endangering my life by losing the speed and momentum I had gained? Do I keep skating past him and hope he doesn't rush me from the side, pushing me off the path? The fear I felt turned quickly to rage. Quick backstory on me. I am no stranger to violence from my past passed. I thought. Why should I live my life afraid? Why should I be afraid of these men who think they can just take what they want from me? Do they think I'm just going to take it? I felt my hands ball up into fists, my jaw jut out in defiance and I decided to stand my ground. Something told me that as I passed him that I needed to remember everything about what he looked like. I noted his Dark eyes and beard, his plain blue baseball cap, his hoodie and jeans and construction boots. I could tell my nostrils were flared and my eyes were flashing anger and I glared at him with an intensity that said, I see you there and I am ready to fight you if I need to. We maintained eye contact for what felt like a long time, but could not have been more than a few seconds. Then he actually broke eye contact and looked away from me. I knew he had changed his mind about whatever he was considering doing, but I was still not safe yet. I flew as fast as I could to the second park and got off the bike path. Now I was in a tough position. My car was a mile away, as was my shoes and cell phone. I could not go back down that path again and risk passing him a second time. He might have moved. He might have been hiding in a better place, waiting for me, knowing I would need to go back down the path to get to my car. So I took off my roller blades and made my way over to the road that ran parallel to the path and walked the mile back to my car in my socks, carrying my skates. It probably looked a little strange to the drivers that went by and that walk seemed to take forever. Once I saw my car, I ran to it as fast fast as I could and locked myself in. And I never went back there to rollerblade again. Unfortunately, the story does not stop here. After this incident, I went on with the rest of my day. I went to class, I made lunch at my apartment, I got ready for work and went to my closing shift where I worked as a waitress. I returned to my apartment complex around 10pm to find my neighbor yelling excited excitedly on his cell phone in the parking lot, pacing and smoking a cigarette as he talked. He and his girlfriend lived upstairs from me. I didn't know them well, but they were friendly enough. She studied nursing and he was a business major. We had all hung out shortly after move in day, drinking beers and smoking on their balcony. And I thought they would both be pretty nice people. I parked my car and started walking towards the building just as he was hanging up from his call. I nodded politely towards him and offered a friendly greeting. Something like hey, how's it going man? Seeing his face closer now under the lights, I could tell he had been crying. He told me his girlfriend was in the hospital. She had been attacked by a strange man and was recovering from some various injuries, most seriously a head injury from smacking her head on concrete. As he described to me what happened, I felt tears rising in my own eyes and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. What I said to him next made his jaw drop. I said, did this happen on the bike path? He incredulously said yes and demanded to know how I knew that. I told him I knew who did it and I explained what happened happened to me that morning. He immediately asked if I could talk to the police and give a description of the man. Because of the little voice in my head that told me I needed to remember everything about his appearance, I was able to give a full, detailed description of this man to the police. For months after the incident, I checked the news to see if he was ever caught, but I never heard that he was. The girl he attacked did make a full recovery, and shortly after returning from the hospital, she and her parents showed up in a moving van and packed up all of her things from her apartment. I never saw her again for a long time after that. I felt a lot of guilt about what happened to her. I felt that somehow her fate was meant for me, but I had skirted it and left it for someone else to suffer through. What did I do that she didn't? The last and most chilling piece of this story. The earbuds that I had lost the morning of this incident. The ones that I had looked all over my apartment for and that I had decided to forego using that day because I didn't have the time to look. I found them the next day on the kitchen counter, exactly where they were supposed to be. I know for a fact they weren't there when I looked, and I can't explain why they disappeared that morning. I know my roommate didn't take them. I can only assume that my awareness of this situation was the thing that saved me in the end. And some higher power was looking out for me that day. Rated T for Teen. Each year thousands of adults lose their shred. It's an epidemic simply known as shred loss. But it doesn't have to be this way. Because rekindling your shred is as easy as playing the new Tony hawk's Pro Skater 3 and 4. With new parks, cross platform multiplayer and sick new game modes, we can put an end to shred loss everywhere. Hit the new Tony hawk's Pro Skater 3 and 4 and show the world that the shred's not dead. Get Tony hawk's Pro Skater 3 and 4 available now. You know that one friend who somehow knows everything about money? Yeah. Now imagine they live in your phone. Say hey to Experian, your big financial friend. It's the app that helps you check your FICO score, find ways to save, and basically feel like a financial genius. And guess what? It's totally free. So go on download the Experian app. Trust me, having a BFF like this is a total game changer. This story happened sometime in the mid-1980s when my mom was a teenager in high school. My mother and my aunt grew up on a farm in central Florida that was relatively in the middle of nowhere at the time. We still live in this area and it is more urbanized now, but at this point in time it was mostly woods and farmland. My great aunt, uncle and our cousins lived on the same property in another house however, so they weren't entirely alone, but outside of that you would have to drive a mile or maybe a little less than that or so before you reached the next neighbor. My grandfather coached for the local high school's football team and my mother and aunt were cheerleaders. So on Fridays he would have to coach at the school's game and my mom and aunt would be there to cheerlead. The rest of the family would usually come along as well since since my cousins went to the school too and there wasn't really anything else to do in that small town on a Friday night they would usually get to the game earlier than everyone else, considering that he was the coach. One particular Friday, however, my mother started feeling very sick throughout the day and by the time the evening rolled around she felt horrible. She informed my grandfather that she wasn't feeling up to going and that she would be staying home to rest. My grandma made her something to eat for dinner and after that the whole family, including my great aunt and great uncle went on their way. She was alone on their property. For some context, we eventually ended up selling this property when I was a young child so I don't have a ton of memories about my grandparents property. One thing I can remember was that it could get very creepy at night and that was with other people there, so being alone at night must have been a lot more frightening. My mom went to lay down right after they left, but not long after, maybe five or 10 minutes, she realized she needed to call her cheerleading coach at the school to let her know that she wasn't going to be there tonight so that she could be prepared for her absence. Keep in mind this is the mid-80s so there are no such cell phones. My mom has to get up and walk all the way to the kitchen to use the phone. As she is walking through the house she starts to Feel a bit creeped out. Like that classic feeling of something just not being right. That instinctual feeling we get when something is just telling us that we are in a potentially bad situation and may not even know it yet. Outside it is getting dark out and there are many lights on on in the house which contribute to this uneasy feeling. Very important detail. The phone in my grandparents house had a longer cord than most phones at the time. She says that you could walk into other rooms and the cord was long enough that the phone could be brought out of the kitchen into the neighboring rooms which are the living room, the hallway and my grandparents bedroom. In the hallway by the kitchen and by my grandparents bedroom, my grandfather kept his weapons ready to go. Not the safest thing I guess, but when you live alone in the woods I guess you want to be ready to defend yourself the second you know you're in trouble. He had always told my mom and aunt, do not touch those weapons unless your life is in danger. She took this very seriously and had never even thought about touching them. By this point point she was in the kitchen and she dialed the number to call her coach and informed her about her illness. I believe they continued talking for a minute or so because she says that the coach was still on the phone when my mom heard strange noises coming from my grandparents room. My mother, very frightened, told the coach she heard something and grabbed the weapon off the wall, phone still pressed to her ear. She wasn't sure if she was overreacting and had imagined something. But she opened the door to my grandparents room and what she saw made her drop the phone right on the floor in shock. The window was completely open and there was a large man with one leg over the window sill and one leg still outside. What was so awkward about this was he had basically stopped in the middle of coming in when he realized he had been caught by her. As if he was not expecting someone to be home or that he simply did not expect her to have heard him coming in. They just stared at each other for a good five seconds. Him just halfway in the room and her just standing there in the doorway, phone on the floor. With my mom's coach still in the line, asking if she was okay, weapon in hand, staring at each other, but almost unsure what to do. My mom, terribly frightened, finally mustered up the will to speak. First, in a very shy and afraid voice, she managed to say I, I, I, I have a weapon. Turn around and leave or I'll use it. The man just stood there. She said it was as if he Was wondering whether she was bluffing or not. Finally, after what seemed like hours of just staring, he suddenly swung his other leg in very fast and turned quickly, quickly, like he was about to charge her. My mother, terrified with her hands shaking, used the weapon and hit him in the shoulder. The impact was so much that it knocked her back on the floor and sent the man directly out the window he had come in. Blood was everywhere around the window. She picked the phone back up, now sobbing, telling her coach to call the police to her house. When she looked back, she saw the man run, running, clutching his shoulder, bleeding out all over the yard, running back to the woods behind their property. Keep in mind, he was wounded. This guy had basically just immediately gotten up like it was nothing and started sprinting off into the woods. I don't know the exact order of what happened next, but the police eventually did get there. My grandparents hurried home sometime shortly thereafter and the police were still there. I think what was most weird about this story was that there was a trail of blood that the guy had left as he was fleeing the property that went out into the woods. The police investigated and found that it continued for some ways into the forest and eventually just stopped. There was no body or anything like the blood just stopped and they never caught up with the guy. I think it's bizarre because she had seriously wounded him and around the window in the room looked like the scene of a horror movie. How he got away apparently alive and so quickly without the cops catching up to him is very odd. She believes that he must have been on something. I agree with this theory because what kind of sane and sober person would have continued to break into someone's home when they have a weapon pointed in their face and have been caught in the actual. Not to mention that once he had been wounded, he just took off like it was nothing, back into the woods. Regardless, I'm just happy my mother made it out okay. Who knows what could have happened if she had just fallen asleep and hadn't gotten up to make that phone call. My pound rescue dog is a walker hound named Charlie. Best way to describe a walker hound would be an overgrown beagle that weighs around 60 pounds and is about the size of a common Labrador. People often ask if my dog Charlie is a beagle. I get asked this very often and I give them a short lesson of the difference between a a walker hound and a beagle. I am a single bachelor who lives alone in a house in a quiet suburb with my best friend Charlie. Of course I love my dog as if he were my child. Charlie and I have our routine morning and evening walks where we always walk through a public city park just down the street from my home in a seemingly safe suburban neighborhood. Charlie and I are rarely the only ones in this park when we stroll through, as this park is very popular for many dog owners in my neighborhood. Charlie is a friendly dog who wants to meet and greet every dog that passes us by, be it a big dog or a small dog. If another dog and their owner drew near, Charlie always eagerly pulls on his leash to get closer and try and make a fellow canine companion. One evening nearly two weeks ago, Charlie and I were finishing up a long walk and were heading back home. The night sky had just arrived after the sun hid itself behind the mountains. We were walking the dimly lit streets of the subdivision and I decided to take a shortcut through the city park where Charlie and I always frequent. We walked along the asphalt trail that curves and bends around tall maple trees toward the tennis courts. We continued walking this trail to the part where it first forks into two separate directions. The right trail takes you back to the street and out of the park toward my home. The left trail takes you into a thicket of dense bushes toward an elementary school. As Charlie and I walked past the forked trail and veered right, I could see someone coming right out of the woodwork from the left trail. Two very large belligerent dogs with jet black fur. These huge dogs were bound on a double leash, being walked by a middle aged male and female couple. I don't know what breed these dogs were, but the best way I can describe them would be a mix between a German shepherd and a husky. They both looked identical and easily weighed at least £100. As soon as these dogs laid eyes on Charlie and I, they barked furiously, pulling hard at their owner's ropes and got into a town attack mode. The two belligerent black dogs pulled hard against their feeble female owner who was trying with all her might to hold them back. While her significant other did nothing to help, I knew trouble was afoot. But before Charlie and I could make our getaway, the woman obviously lost her grip on the reins of the double leash. Immediately, the belligerent dogs charged and started attacking and biting Charlie. Charlie is no match for these two attack dogs that are much larger than he is. Charlie is howling in fear and pain, trying to get away. My protective dog dad instincts ignite and I begin kicking these mutts in the head as hard as I can, protecting Charlie at all costs. Seconds felt like minutes as I was fighting these wild attack dogs in the scuffle. The double leash that held these two vile attack dogs together had wrapped around my body and brought me down to the ground. Once on the ground at their level, all three dogs run around in circles, binding me very tightly in the double leash. Charlie's cries for help in the attack dogs barking and growling were the only sounds I heard. Wildly I fight with everything I got as I punched and kicked these vile mutts. As they tightly bind me with their double leash, holding me in place, the man and woman finally rush over and restrain their vile animals from inflicting further harm upon Charlie and I. The double leash is tightly bound around my lower abdomen and tangled up amongst myself, Charlie and the attack dogs. The man and woman frantically work to untangle me and the dogs from the mess. I'm so sorry. They both exclaimed. At this point, pure fury flowed through me. I harshly stood smack down their apology and say something along the lines of get me out of this mess and keep better track of your attack dogs. I should call the police on you negligent people. They begged me not to and I was still tangled up in the mess with the dogs and I was still at their mercy to be let go. So I had no choice but to wait while they unwound the leashes and freed me from the mess they got me in. I was disgusted by the mere existence existence of this man and woman who brought two very large and vicious attack dogs to a public park. Even though I knew they were sincerely apologetic, I was too angry to accept that it was an accident. While they untangled me, I scanned my body and my dog Charlie's for any open wounds and injuries. Thankfully, I found none. After standing up off the ground, I got Charlie beside me and I yelled at both of to them to f off and die. The man who should have helped his girlfriend restrain the dogs had the nerve to reply, you should f off and live. Boiling with rage, I cannot remember my exact words, but I told both of them something along the lines of that I should call the police to report their irresponsible dog ownership and that I never want to see them in their ugly mutts in the park ever again. Of course, the man was bull headed and kept mouthing off to me. Well then, if you don't want to see us, don't come to the park. Will you shut up. The girlfriend yelled back at him. The woman was trying to calm her man down, telling him that I'm not worth it and to move on. Yeah, listen to your woman, I shot back. One more word from you and I will call the cops. To that they walked away. You might be thinking, why didn't you call the police? Why did you let them get away? At the time I did not want to let them get away, but my merciful side overtook me that evening because I was once in a similar situation as this couple was before I adopted Charlie three years ago. @ that time I was pet sitting a pit bull on a nature trail. This pit bull broke loose and attacked a nearby camper's cat. At that time I disciplined the pit bull and rescued the cat from near death. The cat's owners wanted to report me to the police as well, but a long story short, I de escalated that situation and made sure the cat was safe and sound and they decided to cancel calling the police. If I was given a second chance from someone who was a victim of my irresponsible actions of pet ownership, I could give this couple a second chance as well. Next we Next week I'm going to be enrolling in self defense classes and this experience with the two attack dogs has inspired me to purchase a stun baton with 7 million volts to zap any approaching attack dog with malicious intent. I consider myself very fortunate that this incident went down the way it did with no injuries to myself or Charlie, but next time I might not be so lucky. Now to start this off, I'm a 29 year old man and three times a year I head up to the Georgia mountains to camp, fish and have a great time. But after the last trip I doubt I will ever go again. I have been super excited the week before I was to head up to Georgia and when the day finally came I could have died with happiness. I loaded up my dog Buddy and all my gear and started the trip. About an hour into my trip I saw a road that I have never seen before. I decided I would take an hour to look around and go back to the main road. I lost track of time and before I knew it the sun was setting. I grabbed my gear and my buddy and we hiked about 10 minutes before finding a nice clearing in the forest. I set up camp and looked around. I saw a small man made trail leading into the dark trees and decided that me and my dog needed a walk. I grabbed my walking stick, buddy's leash and a headlamp and we headed onto the trail. I knew something was wrong when I couldn't hear a single insect or animal. My dog and I stopped at a little creek and that's when I saw something terrifying. Two eyes reflecting from my headlamp. This person was really tall, looked to be about 7ft. My dog is usually very protective of me, but instead of barking he whimpered and peed on my leg. I have never seen him act like this before. He has seen bears before and has scared scared mountain lions away, but he has never gotten scared like this. As Buddy kept whimpering, I felt terrible. Like this person hated me and they could rip me to pieces if they wanted to. Then they made the scariest noise I have ever heard. Imagine a maniac screaming. My dog and I bolted back to our camp. When we got back I could still hear it. Needless to say we changed our mind about staying there. I packed up the camp as my dog stood watch. We ran to my truck and got out of there. I went straight home and canceled this camping trip. That whole night while I laid in bed I could not get that scream out of my head. This happened a long time ago, about 40 years ago. So this was back before cell phones or google maps or debit cards or any of the traveling conveniences of today's world. So when you traveled by car you were at the mercy of printed roadmaps, phone booths, if you needed to make a phone call and whatever cash you had on you before you started your trip. I am a 60 year old female and this is what happened when I was about 18 years old. My sister Mandy, who was a few years older than me and one of her friends Jane and I decided to take a road trip from Dallas to Houston to attend a Bruce Springsteen concert. Jane knew one of the roadies so we were going to get backstage passes and we were going to out actually get to meet Bruce Springsteen. We were so excited we decided to drive to Houston on the Friday night before the Saturday concert and we were going to stay in a cheap motel for the weekend. We were young and broke, but this was Bruce Springsteen so worth the cost of the motel. We wanted to be rested and already there to get to the concert early and possibly see the band before the show show and we also did not want to have to drive back after the concert as we would be out late hopefully in our crazed minds partying with Bruce and the E Street Band. We were in Jane's car for the trip. She had recently gotten a new car plus hers was the only car of the three of us that was in good enough condition to make the trip. Mandy and I always had rat traps for cars back then. So we started off at around 7pm that Friday night and we Were in very high spirits. What a weekend this was going to be. We were jamming and laughing and having us a good old road trip. About two hours into the trip, which was halfway there, we heard loud knocking noises coming from the car engine. We immediately turned down the music and strained to try and figure out just what the heck the noises were. Then all of a sudden, we heard a loud bang and the car engine died. We were freaking out as we had been tooling down the highway at 60 miles per hour. And then it just stopped. Thankfully, the roads were empty and there were no cars behind us. So Jane was able to just pull off to the side of the highway as the car was losing momentum. We all got out of the car on the passenger side next to the woods. Jane popped open the hood. But it's not like any of us would have known what to do anyway. It's just something you do right. The engine was smoking and it smelled horrible. Bad oil smell. We had no idea what to do. Here we were, three young girls on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere, I might add, and we had no way to get help unless it was offered by a strict stranger. We knew that we were too far from the exit behind us. We had not seen an exit for quite a while, and we had no idea how far it was to the next exit. Too far to walk anywhere, more than likely. Not that it would have been safe to walk on the side of the highway anyway. And since we were in the middle of nowhere and it was pitch black by this time, there were no lights on the highway and there were no buildings or towns around to provide light. Light either. And we only saw very few cars on the highway in either direction. We were so screwed and so scared. And we had to figure out just what the heck we were going to do. Mandy and I were also upset about probably missing the concert, But Jane was just concerned about her car. She had finally gotten a new car after all the lemons she had in the past, and now she was afraid that it was dead, possibly for good. We just sat in the car for a long time, trying to figure out what to do. A while later, as we were still freaking out and scared, but had not yet come up with a plan, A car pulled up behind us. We all just froze because we had no idea who it was or what their intentions were. As we all stared out the back window with deer in the headlight looks on our face, a man, probably early 20s, started walking up to our car. You would think that after the breakdown we would have discussed what to do if someone stopped to help us. But apparently we were not that bright because we had no plan for this. The man walked up to the car window and asked what the problem was and if we needed help. We all just looked at each other and then, as if we all came to the same conclusion together without speaking, knowing that we really had no other choice, James cracked the window just a little bit and explained the situation. He said he could drive us to the nearest town, which was about 15 miles ahead. He said, so we could use a phone. The only plan we had come up with before this stranger walked up was that if we did get to a phone, Jane would have to call her father. Not only because it was her car and she was would need his help dealing with it, but we really had no one else to call. Our other friends were as broke as we were and had cars as unreliable as ours were, so no point in asking any of them to help. And mine and Mandy's parents lived too far away to be able to help in this situation. So while we knew we needed to get to a phone, we had no idea if this guy could be trusted. We asked him to give us a moment. Then we would start discussing our impossible options. The smartest thing would have been for all three of us to go with this guy. Power and numbers. But Jane absolutely refused to leave her car alone on the side of the road. So she insisted that one of us had to stay there. She would not budge on this. Not sure why she thought that car was more important than our lives, but she would not change her mind. And since it was completely insane to send one of us off with a stranger, the only solution was that one of us had to stay with the car and two had to go with this guy. Since it was Jane's father that needed to be called, she had to go make the phone call. Mandy offered to stay with the car, so I would go with Jane. We were all terrified, as we knew that he could kill us both and we would never be found. And that if another person stopped by the car, Mandy would be alone, so would have no way to defend herself if a dangerous person approached her. We hugged and said a scared and teary goodbye. And Jane and I walked to the stranger's car, knowing that this could be the last time we see each other. Now, I know some of you may be saying things like, why didn't Mandy get the guy's license plate number? Or ask to see his driver's license or even ask for his name, but we never even thought about that. Yeah, that would have been the smart thing to do because if he knew she had that information, he might be less likely to harm us. Or if he had refused to give that information, then we would have known he was not on the level. Of course, now that I think about it, he could have still killed us and gone back to do the same to Mandy. So giving her his information wouldn't have been been any help in saving any of us. But I digress. We didn't do any of that. So Jane and I got into the stranger's car and just prayed that he was a decent guy. Since Jane was older, she sat up front with a stranger and I got into the backseat. Jane was pretty street smart, so I was comforted a bit by the fact that I knew she would put up a hell of a fight if need be. But as it turned out, he was a decent guy. He actually did drive us to the small town just as he said he would. And I do mean a small town. All we could see was a small old motel next to a small diner. But there was a police car parked at the diner. So he let us out, knowing that we were in good hands, or so we thought. We thanked him profusely and off he went. So Jane and I went inside the diner and she used the public payphone to call her father. She was hoping that he would come rescue us and her car that night, but her father said no way. He told her that we would just have to spend the night there at that motel and he would come in the morning to pick us up and get her car. He was not about to make a two hour drive at almost 11pm to come get us that night. He assured her that it was okay to leave her car on the side of the highway overnight. There was no way around that unless we were going to sleep in the car, which he strictly forbade her to do. Of course she was too old to be told what to do by her father, but she knew if we did that and he found out, he would be pissed and he might not help her with the car. So she was just going to have to let her car stay there by itself overnight. Next we spoke to the policeman. We were concerned about my sister alone in the car and asked if he would take us to go get her and bring her back to the diner. He was very nice, had a long Texan drawl when he spoke and said sure, let's go. The policeman made a few calls on his car radio, not sure to who as it was hard to hear and they were not speaking very loudly, as if he didn't to want want us to hear. But I was hoping it was about the car and my sister. So Jane and I got into the back of the police car. We were finally so relieved and just thanked our lucky stars that we were safe. Although we were still concerned about Mandy as we had no idea if she was okay or not. Just a few minutes into the trip, the policeman was telling us that there is a serial rapist on the loose in the area. What an odd topic of conversation, especially to two young girls that are already upset about the car and my sister all alone. We have absolutely no idea why he told us that. We just stole a worried glance at each other and we were beginning to wonder if this cop was actually the nice man that he appeared to be at first. And here we were in a car that had doors with no means of entering exit. We were starting to get a bit nervous. All of a sudden, his police radio cracked and came to life. And apparently there was a crime in progress that the policeman needed to get to immediately. So, and I kid you not, he stopped the car right where we were, out in the middle of nowhere and said that we had to get out now. He had to go and he could not take us with him. He said that he would come back to pick us up or send someone as soon as he could. Are you kidding me? We looked around and there was absolutely nothing there except a dark building with a newspaper stand in front of it. Other than that, just pitch blackness, dark roads and forest as far as we could see. We thought surely he must be joking at first, but he was not. His demeanor had changed. He was no longer the nice, friendly policeman with the slow southern drawl that we had met just moments ago. He got mean and nasty and demanded that we get out of the car immediately. We were in tears, asking him to please not leave us out there alone. He said we should just go stand near the building and someone would come to our aid as soon as they could. He assured us we would be fine. So with no other choice, we got out of the car. Then he sped off, 90 to nothing. It was pitch black, it was getting cold and we were terrified. So we huddled next to the building behind the newspaper stand, trying to be unseen and to get out of the wind. We could not believe that a policeman just did this to us. The thought had occurred to us both that the call he received might have possibly been about Mandy. And that is why he didn't want us to Be with them. So great. Not only were we cold and scared and possibly about to be attacked and raped by the mad rapist, but now we were afraid that something bad had possibly happened to Mandy. About 15 minutes later, a semi truck hauling wood or something on a long flatbed behind his truck stopped directly in front of the building that we were crouched beside. We were terrified as while he seemed seemed to be fiddling with the load on the back of his truck, so actually might have had a legitimate reason to get off the highway and park here. He kept looking over in our direction and we knew he must have seen us. We thought we were about to be attacked by a maniac truck driver. We were hoping he would just drive away. But then he started walking toward us. We thought, this is it. We cursed that stupid police officer officer and huddled together in fear. But as the man got closer, he yelled to us. Are you the girls with the sister on the side of the road and the broken down car? We were so confused. How in the world would he know that we looked at each other and whispered that perhaps he killed her, found out from her that we had come here and now he has come to kill us. Or perhaps the police officer was involved cahoots with this madman and sent him to us, which is how he knew we were here. We were at his mercy and we were looking around to see if there was anything we could use as a weapon if he tried to take us. Then the truck driver, seeing that we were scared and backing away, explained that he had heard on the CB radio that the policeman placed a call out to see if there was anyone traveling this way that could pick Mandy up and bring her to the diner. He also heard that there were two scared young ladies here that also needed a ride back to the diner. He heard the calls but was traveling in the opposite direction, so could not help with Mandy, but was passing by this exit so figured he would help us. So we hesitantly got into his truck as his story sounded plausible. But then again, the more we thought about it, the more we wondered why a policeman would tell the entire truth truck driving world about three young girls in distress. That's just a shout out to any sicko that we were ripe for the taking. Didn't seem like a smart thing for a police officer to have done. When he said he would send someone to pick us up. We assumed he meant another police officer. Guess small town folks may have good hearts, but doesn't seem like they use their brains to the fullest extent possible. When I think about the thousands of. Of ways this could have ended if the wrong person showed up on all of those incidents. It makes me shudder. As it turned out, the truck driver did not kill us or harm us. He actually drove us back to the diner and another truck driver stopped and picked up Mandy. Mandy, of course, had no idea what Jane and I had been doing once we left her with that stranger. For all she knew, that guy could have done who knows what with us. And I felt bad that she had been alone. At least I had Jane with me. She was terrified that someone else was going to stop and that she might be in danger. There were not that many cars on the highway on that dark, lonely night. At one point, she saw a semi truck pull over to the side of the road going in the opposite direction. She didn't think that much about it since it was on the other side. Trucks and cars stop all the time for various reasons. But when she saw the truck driver get out of his truck and walk across the highway straight toward her, at that point, she was really frightened. Why would he be doing that? She had no idea that a call had gone out on the CB radios. She started to shrink down in her seat, hoping that he would think no one was in the car. But he kept coming. When he was finally at her window, she had something in her hand for a. A weapon. I think it was a hairbrush or something just as useless. And she just very slightly cracked the window so she could hear what he was saying. He asked if she was Mandy. What? She was so confused as to how he knew her name. Crazy thoughts went through her head in just a few seconds. Did that stranger we went with have a crazed buddy who was now coming to harm her? The truck driver explained. Explained how the policeman had put a call out on the CB radio asking for help. He was going the opposite direction, but stopped and came over to make sure she was safe and to wait while another truck driver buddy headed in the right direction and would pick her up shortly after and take her to the diner to meet up with us. She wasn't 100% sure that this was on the up and up, but since he seemed okay and the story sounded somewhat reasonable and he hadn't asked her to open the door or anything like that and stood far enough away that she felt safe, she decided to trust that what he was saying was the truth. Sure enough, about five minutes later, another trucker pulled over. They chatted, and then he said he would take Mandy to the diner. So up she gets into the truck, just like us on our Few occasions getting into vehicles with strangers praying that he was not going to kill her. And off they go up the road toward the next exit. We were four for four that night. This trucker did indeed drive her to the diner where we all hugged and cried and were so thankful for the kindness of these small town strangers. At that point we were just tired and hungry and ready to get this horrible night over with. The diner food was horrid and unlike the nice truck drivers, the patrons and waitresses did not seem overwhelmed with us and were rather snippy and rude to us. But we just ate and then headed to that creepy little motel next door. The night clerk was just like you would expect at a spooky little hotel next to a dark highway and even darker wood behind it. He was sullen and acted like we were bothering him. We asked for a room with double beds. He gave us a key to a room but the key would not work so we had to trudge back to the front of the motel. All three of us went together. We were not splitting up or leaving anyone alone anymore that night and he was not very happy with us at all. He gave us another key to the room and after a bit of working we finally got the door open. There was only one double bed, so back to the front of the motel we go. We politely reminded him him that we needed two double beds. There were three of us after all. He acted like he was just so exasperated with us he begrudgingly handed us the key to another room. We trek on back down to the room which of course was room 13. I know he did that on purpose. We opened the door again with a tricky lock and of course there is only one double bed bed. Wow. We went back again because now we were pissed. We need two double beds please. And he said in his surly manner we don't have any rooms with double beds available. He said there was a fold up cot in the closet. Nice. We were just too tired to even worry about it. So we made our way back into room 13 and just wanted to get some sleep and lament about how we were not going to get to that concert. But we started looking around and realized that this room was so nasty and we saw some roaches. We just laid on top of the bed and caught in our clothes and prayed for this night to be over and for mourning and our sanity to come. Jane's father did arrive early the next morning. He called a tow truck. He took us home and we were so happy to to never see that ho dunk town ever again. And in case you were wondering, no, we never did make it to Houston for the concert. Really bummed about that and the cause of the engine mishap. Apparently Jane's brother had filled up the oil in her car before we started on our trip and was haphazard about the whole thing. Got oil all over the engine, thus it heated and caught fire. I imagine engines are made differently these days so things like this don't happen, but back then, her brother's laziness could have cost us everything. We just felt lucky to have made it out alive. This story takes place in the summer of 2017. For reference, my friend and I were young teenage girls at the time. We were hanging out one night and we decided to go on a walk around the pond that was not too far away from my house. It was, as some would say, pitch black outside, although there was some dull light due to the periodically placed street lights. We left my house and began walking up the street in the darkness. All was fine and we quickly made it to the pond without any issues. We ended up stopping at one end of the pond to take a break on a bench. This bench happened to be right under a light, so if anyone were also at the pond they could see us as we were illuminated by the light, but we could not directly see anyone else. We talked for a little while as we we moved out onto the dimly lit pond and after a few minutes I noticed some movement off in the distance. It appeared to be a group of silhouettes approaching us. I am pretty aware of the dangers that exist in the world and I am quite the paranoid person. This being said, I quickly alerted my friend to the presence of what I assumed was a group of people swiftly coming our way. It should be noted that we were not in the best of areas and there were usually suspicious activities that took place at night. We debated for a short moment about what we should do. The first option was to keep sitting on the bench and assume that they were harmless individuals who wouldn't say or do anything to us and the other option was to take no chances with these strangers who had us outnumbered and make a run for it back to my house. We quickly chose the ladder and got back on our feet. We started off with a speed walk, but as I kept looking back to check on the mysterious group of people approaching us, I realized that they too were picking up speed. This is when my fear truly kicked in and my friend and I began to full on run. I regularly looked back at the group as we continued to run and I noticed that they began closing the distance between between us. We still could not make out any features of the people due to the lack of lighting, so we were just blindly running from these mysterious people. I eventually arrived at my house and hid in my yard while waiting for my friend who is much shorter and not the fastest runner. She made it back a short while after me and we went inside making sure to lock the doors behind us. When we were discussing it after the fact, she said that when she was running she wasn't looking back to check on them, so we don't actually know if they attempted to follow us the whole way home or miraculously gave up. We honestly don't even know what happened. If these people meant no harm, they were certainly not doing the best at showing that, but if they were indeed evil doers of some kind, well then I am glad that we dashed away when we did. Living with schizophrenia isn't easy, especially when you're not getting relief from some of your symptoms. It can be hard when you're still dealing with symptoms like hearing voices or seeing things that aren't there, and negative symptoms like feeling unmotivated or avoiding social situations. If this sounds familiar, it might be time to talk to your healthcare provider and explore a different kind of schizophrenia treatment. Discover your possibilities@treatingscz.com this episode is brought to you by LifeLock. Between two factor authentication, strong passwords, and a VPN, you try to be in control of how your info is protected, but many other places also have it and they might not be as careful. That's why LifeLock monitors hundreds of millions of data points a second for threats. If your identity is stolen, they'll fix it, guaranteed, or your money back. Save up to 40% your first year. Visit lifelock.com podcast for 40% off terms apply. This happened when I was 15. In early 2018. I was young and stupid, so don't blame me for the mistakes and choices I made. When I first met him, I honestly didn't think we were related at all. All of my family has light tan, dark brown eyes and the same sharp nose. In all honesty, I couldn't believe he was my aunt's son. He was pale, so pale that he looked ghostly. His eyes were sunken from obvious lack of of sleep, and he was heavier than most kids our age. His hair was black and he was an inch taller than me, and in sharp contrast to his mother, he was mean, cold and cunning. Over the next year, he would constantly threaten me, and especially threaten my brother out of spite and Hate if I'm being serious. He had always given me major sketch vibes. His his humor was twisted and dark. Humor is funny, don't get me wrong, but his jokes were just flat out disgusting. I tried to avoid him when I could, but it proved futile every time since he knew I would not put up with his bs. You're all bite, he told me Once I almost punched him in the face then. Pity that I didn't. One day we were walking in the park alone and we were just talking about school. Normally I would avoid him altogether, but I decided to play nice since I didn't want my tia to get upset that I didn't like her son. I tried to seem interested in what he was saying, but it was hard, especially considering the amount of things I could have been doing instead. Then, out of seemingly nowhere, he says to me, I could kill you, you know. I spray. I spun my head around to look at him. He was staring right into me, his charcoal eyes digging holes in my head. What did you just say to me? I asked, squaring my chest, preparing for a scuffle. I didn't care if my aunt yelled at me. I wanted to put this kid in his place. Nothing, he said and he turned to start talking to his mom. Rightfully so. I avoided him even more now, ever the more cautious of not being alone with him until one specific day when he was accompanying me and his sister to a barbeque next to a river. I knew I hated the idea of him coming with us. He knew I hated him and made it his goal to annoy me. While we were there, he talked constantly, never being quiet for more than two minutes. He purposely dropped me my burger when bringing it to me and when he jumped out of the water, he shook his head like a dog getting water all over me. I tried so hard to just try and have a good time, but it was hard when he was so hell bent on annoying me. Then he sat next to me. I kept talking to his sister, trying not to meet his gaze. Then he leaned in and repeated what he said the other day. I could kill you, you know. I stood up and walked into the woods, telling them both that I was going on a walk. After marching my way far enough into the woods, I sat down next to some brush and I just sat and calmed down for around 10 minutes before I heard someone trudging towards me. I knew it was a human. The struggling of walking over the rough terrain and the heavy footsteps clued me into who it was. I was in the middle of Turning, going to say something to him. But I see a long knife. The same one we have been cutting the meat with. I jump as fast as I can into the brush, covering myself in the leaves and dirt. Suddenly grateful for my father's lessons of the outdoors. Harsh as they were, I am by no means religious. But when I see his face and the smile he has plastered on, I start to pray to any God I can think of. He doesn't say anything, doesn't call out to me. Nothing. The overwhelming urge to vomit consumes me and adrenaline begins to pump through my body. I inhale deeply, trying my hardest to keep calm. But I hear something. Someone breathing behind me. I make a break for for it. I try to scream, but he's bigger than me by a ton and way heavier. He cups his hand over my mouth and holds the knife to a weak point in my back. The same point he had slammed something into me when we were kids. He knew how much I hated anything touching that spot. So he drags the knife down my back, beginning to laugh with all the courage I have ever had in my life. I bite into his hands to so hard I taste blood. He screams, but he doesn't let his arm drop from around me. I position my arm just enough so the knife wouldn't hit so deeply and I slam my elbow into his nose, his knife digging into my shoulder. Now I scream bloody murder. And he lets go to try and stem the blood from his nose, which to my amusement I later found out was broken. Clutching my shoulder, I ran as as far fast as I could back to my other cousin who had come looking for us. Seeing as we had been gone for almost 15 minutes at that point I can only imagine what a sight that would have been. A knife basically falling out of my shoulder and her brother following behind me with a bloodied, crooked nose and a bleeding hand. Upon seeing the knife, she rushed over to me. In a couple of seconds she realized what had happened. We booked it for to the car, locked the doors and proceeded to call the police. The funniest part to me is that he had tried to flee. The fool. The cops found him after 10 minutes and arrested him outright. I gave my statement and filed for a restraining order. To cut an already long story short, he got seven years of aggravated assault and me and his sister testified against him. His mom won't accept what he has done and believes that we, we being his sister and I, were screwing around with dangerous people and I got stabbed. Because of this incident, a considerable amount of my family doesn't like me. The only thing I can say is Josh, you better hope we never meet again. Fresh out of college in 2010, I purchased my first home for me and my young son. The woman who lived there before me died of heart failure in her 50s. Soon after moving in, we found a stray skinny puppy who had a horrible skin infection and just needed a lot of love and care. We took him in, named him Crypto and nursed him back to health. He was a great dog, so protecting and adventurous, but incredibly loving and sweet to everyone. Crypto had continued medical issues all throughout his two short nearly eight years of life, from severe cases of unexplained hives to tumors on his foot to a mysterious disease that ultimately caused his liver to fail. Failed. The latter ailment came and went with treatment for the last three years of his life. Outside of camping, hiking, playing in the park. Kind of fun stuff, Krypto and I spent countless hours at the vet trying to find out why his body was failing him. So we became close in ways I have never felt with another animal or human. Eventually, towards the end of 2017, crypto was getting started, sicker and sicker, refusing to eat much at all. There was really nothing else to be done, so one evening in mid October, I heartbreakingly took him to the vet to be euthanized. I was with him until the end and I miss him incredibly. Rewind maybe a week or two. I was obviously very consumed by my dog who I love as if he were my child, being in pain and suffering while coming to terms with him likely dying sooner than later. I do not recall totally clearly how the message first appeared, but on our everyday plain run of the mill microwave I noticed a notification. Prior to this day I never noticed that this microwave had a message button, nor has a message button been on any of the many microwaves I have seen since. One day in early October 2017, I noticed a banner across the readout display of the microwave indicating an unheard message with a small red light lit up on the button as if beckoning to be pressed. So I pressed the message button and a recording played. The message lasted about 10 seconds and sounded like mostly static, but there was clearly someone speaking in what appeared to be a deep Southern inflection. My initial reaction was that's weird, but I thought surely there was a reasonable explanation of some sort. The microwave had been in the house when I moved in seven plus years earlier, so who knows what was on it before me? Maybe there was a power blip and the microwave malfunctioned so it brought up some old message someone recorded a long time ago that somehow got stored on the microwave. But who knows why is there even a message button at all? But I had my dog to worry about. So I put the microwave static message out of my mind, but not before telling my boyfriend who had just moved in with us a few months earlier. After hearing the staticky voice in the microwave, he became somewhat obsessed with deciphering what the message said. He would wake up and play the message, come home from work and play the message over and over thinking that he was picking up words here and there. I could not muster the energy to be as enthusiastic as he was, even though I definitely found it to be very odd. My beloved dog was dying and that was all I could feel and think about outside of normal life. Fast forward back to one of the hardest days my son and I have had together. My my boyfriend was working late so by the time he came home I was fully wallowing in my grief, feelings of loss and perceived failure as a first time dog mom. But he was right back obsessing over this message in the microwave as usual. After a while I make my way into the kitchen to ask him to please come hang out with me. When I walk into the kitchen he looks at me and stone faced tells me that he knows what it says. I'm like okay what? But he doesn't want to tell me. I told him he needs to tell me and that I want to know now because he is acting like something is wrong. Like what could the message possibly say that is so terrible that he doesn't think I should know now when before he wanted to know so badly. Eventually he tells me to just listen for myself and I will hear it clearly. So just as I did before, I pressed the message button and the message played just as before. But this time there was not the overwhelming static. This time the recording played a deep drawl of a man's voice clearly state matter of fact as if he was telling you what he had for lunch. That feller right there. He is going to die. So to this day I have no explanation as to how the message got in the microwave or why there was even a message button at all. I can also not explain why suddenly that night the message came through so clearly after the hundreds of times my boyfriend had played the recording in the days prior. No one in my direct family or circle has a deep southern drawl like the one I heard, so I am certain certain it did not come from anyone I know we have speculated over the years. Sometimes rationally, other times less so. But this is one of the few experiences in my life my boyfriend and I both just do not have a reasonable explanation for was someone in my house or something less reasonable. One night when I was around 7 or 8, I had a very strange nightmare. At that age I was a latchkey kid. Which means when I got home from school, I was there alone for about an hour or two until my parents or older siblings got home. I loved the house I grew up in. It was awesome. But dang it, it could be creepy at times. It was not that well made to begin with and my parents built most of the added on rooms themselves. It was a large two story house that sat on an acre of land. But it was not in the best part of town as it sat on the outskirts of a quickly growing city. I tell you this because in my dream I had just got home from school like normal. I locked the locks we had on the door and went to put my backpack in my room. Only after I turned around from locking the door, I stopped. I felt something was different. I felt there was someone here, someone in the house. Worse, I knew they were watching me. Even though it's over 20 years since I had the dream, I recall very clearly standing still and trying to listen for any odd sounds. Trying to listen for footsteps or breathing or anything that would be out of place. But all I heard was the creaks and groans of the house. Very scared, I started to tiptoe about. This was before there were cell phones and there were not any neighbors that I knew well enough that I could go to at least any that would be home. And at that age, I don't think I knew my mom's phone phone number, let alone one of my parents work numbers. The only thing I could think to do is if I saw someone in the house, I would run outside and keep running until a grown up helped me. So I went upstairs slowly and quietly, poking my head just above the stairwell to see if there was anyone there. But no. No one was there. But the feeling of being watched continued. I looked at each room room upstairs, knowing that whoever it was was watching me. As strange as it sounds, doing this made him feel even closer. It made me visualize in my head a dark outline of a man that was here with me. After checking every room, I traveled back downstairs. At this point I was so scared that I almost was in tears. Then I saw that dark outline in the corner corner of my eye. In reaction I turned to look at it. But When I did, there was nothing there. I even did a360 thinking that he must have moved, but there was no one there. Then I saw it again out of the corner of my eye, but this time on the other side. Once again I turned to look, but there was nothing there. Now, at that age, I was extremely kid. A true kid that got scared, played with Ninja Turtles and watched Ghostbusters. I wasn't psychic, nor did I talk to ghosts or anything like that. So when I kept seeing that dark shape out of the corner of my eye repeatedly, I did the only thing I could think to do in my scared state. Run. When I entered the living room, I somehow knew it was behind me. Not sure why I knew it was there as I don't remember feeling heat or hearing breathing, but I knew it was there. So I took off running. Being a stupid kid, I didn't think to run towards the right side of the room which would lead to the back of the house where the back door was. But I ran towards the left side of the room because it led to the closest room that I knew had a lock, which was the downstairs bathroom. I ran as fast as I could. The feeling that figure behind me, inches away. I ran into the small hallway in which the bathroom was at the end. As I ran, the darkness was sort of overtaking me. Now that I'm older, I can relate it to how a butterfly net is when you swing it in to grab a butterfly. It was overtaking me as I ran and I could see it at both sides. This whole bit would have lasted maybe three or four seconds total, but to me it was slowed down. Just as I ran inside the bathroom and passed the door frame, hands grabbed my neck. Strong cold hands wrapped around my neck. Instantly I went cold and everything stopped. Everything went black. This is when I woke up. When I woke up, I screamed. Not because I just had the worst nightmare of my life, but because someone was holding me tight. My mother was sitting on my bed, having grabbed me in a hug and was rocking me back and forth. Now, I know this may sound creepy, but it wasn't. She was scared and crying. Here's what truly makes this memory creepy. She had a nightmare too. In hers, she felt that a dark, unknown figure was wanted to do her harm. And so in her nightmare, she dreamed that she awoke to do her normal morning routine. Since she woke up at four in the morning for work, she would often go about her routine in the dark. To not wake my father. She went to the bathroom, but when entered, she felt something Tap against her left shoulder right past the door. It actually happened a few times. Confused by this, as she wasn't fully awake and it was pitch black, she turned on the light. That's when she saw me dead, hanging from a noose at the same location that I felt the thing grab me in my nightmare. It was there that she knew that the dark figure did the worst possible thing it could to her, which was to kill me. That nightmare shook her badly. So bad in fact, that she. She rushed to my room in the middle of the night and held me, thankful that I was alive. She described it in the same way that I did, that it was the most realistic dream she ever had. Neither of us went back to bed that night. Instead, we had graham crackers and milk to try and wash the nightmares away. Then we turned on the radio and played it softly, not to wake anyone. And most of all, we kept all the lights on in the kitchen. Years later, I have no clue why this happened, nor do I have any explanation. And as to what or who the dark figure was, I don't know. Never felt it before or after. The house I grew up could be very creepy at times, but there was a lot of love there as we were a large happy family, so it wasn't like it was filled with doom and gloomy. I did experience a few weird and scary things over the years that I can't really explain, but by no means could say it was haunted. Over the years, I have had a few conversations with my mom about that night as she is by far the kindest person I have ever known. I fully believe her when she said that she doesn't know what it could have been. It could have been just a billion and one chance that we both happen to have had a similar nightmare on the same night. But in my heart, that doesn't feel right. That figure was real. To this day, anytime I see something in the corner of my eye, I get a tinge of fear from that nightmare. It's a horrible feeling too. Makes me feel like a scared little kid again, standing in that house and knowing that figure is watching me. I want to start off by saying that I have never told this story to anyone. It all started about two weeks ago when I moved into my new apartment. I was all moved in and everything because I live alone, so I didn't really have much stuff to unpack. Later that day, I grabbed my purse and keys to go to work for the day. I was walking to my car when I saw someone start to approach me. It was A woman who looked to be at least 45 to 55 years old. It was very obvious that she was a smoker. She also looked sleep deprived, skinny and frail. She had very noticeable eye bags that seemed to get worse the more I looked at them. Hello miss. You must be the new neighbor, said the old woman with an extremely damaged voice caused by years of smoking. Yeah, I just moved here about three days ago. I responded as polite as possible. Then I noticed she had something in her hands that she hid behind her. She looked really excited to show me. Then she noticed I saw it and it seemed to make her even more more excited that she had a huge smile on her face. It was horrible. Her teeth were uneven and rotting. She was missing teeth and her gums looked like they had been bleeding earlier. Her lips were blistered and dry. She scared the absolute crap out of me. I want you to meet someone. She said in a kind of sing songy voice. She showed me which she was hiding behind her. Her name is Jambalaya. It was a very strange looking doll that resembled a coconut. Oh thank you. It's nice to meet her. I just told her what she probably wanted to hear to avoid any drama. I also had to wrap things up soon before I was late for work. I'm sorry that I have to get to work. I'll see you later ma', am. I said in an apologetic tone. No need to be formal. You can call me Emma. She said right before I could get in my car. I nodded in response and get in my car, turned it on and pulled out of the parking lot. I looked in my rearview mirror for a split second and saw that the woman was dead staring at me while rocking that weird doll. I concluded that she was probably under the influence judging by her attitude and the look of her after work. I was driving home around 5:05 and I pulled into the parking lot. When I drove in I saw Emma in the middle of the parking lot, just sitting in the middle of the road playing with jambalaya. What is she doing? I whispered to myself in complete shock as I drove past her. She saw me in my car and gave me a sinister rotten smile. I smiled back, trying my best to keep my composure. I parked and stepped out of my car. Please don't come over here. Please don't come over here. I repeated in my mind as I walked to the entrance. I avoided eye contact as best as I could but ended up looking at her because I heard her saying no, singing something. I kept walking but I also kept looking at her Jambalaya, Jambalaya, Jambalaya. She sang in a low, creepy voice. She sang it slow and she kept repeating that doll's name. I walked a little faster and right before I walked in, I looked back to see if she was still singing. She. She wasn't. She was standing, holding that doll in one hand and the other was on her heart. She was visibly upset. For some reason, we were just standing there staring at each other for what felt like hours. Then I broke my trance and mouthed an apology and walked in, not looking back. This time. As soon as I walked to my apartment, I locked my door. Emma freaked me out and I didn't want to be around her. I mean, she isn't hostile or anything, but she gives me the creeps. I put my stuff down and walked to my room, turned on the lights, flopped on my bed, sighed. I got back up and started cleaning up my mess. I walked to the window, slightly scared for what I might see. Nobody. I was relieved. Part of me was expecting Emma to be leaving, looking at me from my window. I woke up at an uncertain time and looked over to my bedside table to pick up my phone. Realizing that it was 4:30 in the morning. I tried to figure out why I woke up and turned the bedside light on because I was wide awake. For some reason it was kind of an unnerving feeling because I didn't understand what was happening. As I was lying there in my bed, I started hearing weird, weird tapping noises and I froze. Being the person that always listens to scary stories and has become a little paranoid, I started to freak out. I didn't know if I should get up and go see what was happening or just stay in my bed and wait for it to pass. The tapping stopped after about a minute and I just heard shuffles and something like a whisper. At this point I was dead, definitely freaking out and really didn't know what I should do. All of a sudden everything went quiet for about five minutes. I was still too scared to get up when all of a sudden my front door slammed super loud. This scared me so badly. I got up from my bed super fast, looking in every room to try and figure out what just happened. I didn't see anything, so I started to freak out even more, thinking I was going crazy. Crazy. The last place I checked was the bathroom and I looked in the shower to see if somebody was hiding in there. To my surprise, there was something in there, but it wasn't a human. And after I saw what it was, I realized who had been in my Apartment. It was jambalaya. I have no idea why she wanted to break into my apartment just to leave this stupid doll in my bathtub. It makes no sense and I still have no idea why she did it. After this event, I realized how crazy this woman really was and how dangerous she could be. How was she able to break into my apartment and how long was she in there for? And what exactly was she doing other than just leaving a doll in my bathtub? That morning, I looked around the whole house trying to figure out just how she broke in. After about 10 minutes of searching the house and checking every door and window, I noticed that my bathroom window was unlocked and even still opened ajar. This freaks me out so much and I instantly became mad at myself for forgetting something as important as walking all of your windows and doors to make sure they're locked. I knew right away this is how she managed to break in and she must have just went out the front door because it was easier. I went to the apartment manager and staff and explained everything that had been going on and how I would possibly be moving out soon due to this crazy person I was living next to. Thankfully, they understood my situation and said that they would be talking to Emma about what had happened. They offered me next month's rent for free if I stayed. I decided to accept this offer since I had just recently moved in and didn't have a lot of money. Around a week later, after nothing happened, I heard from the apartment staff that Emma was getting arrested and possibly getting sent to a mental ward. They explained to me that after the manager had tried to talk with her about what was going on and had her confess to breaking into my apartment, she became furious about everything and denied the whole thing. Thing. She had a mental freak out and was taking it out on the manager just because he tried to talk to her about her actions. This led to her getting aggressive and being arrested. I have to say I was pretty happy about the news of her being arrested because that meant I didn't have to worry about her anymore and it gave me a lot of hope for my new apartment. I threw that doll away and decided to move on with my life that year after all this crap. It was actually one of the best years of my life because I was able to build my self confidence which in my opinion led to me becoming a much better person. Obviously this woman had issues and I really hope that she is getting the help she needs. This happened about 15 or 20 years ago. It was Halloween and our kids, who were probably around 8 and 10 at the time were planning to go trick or treating that night with their friends and cousins. My sister was going to be the adult with them and my husband and I were just going to stay home and give out the candy at our house. I had done my share of taking the kids trick or treating for many, many years and was looking forward to just staying home and handing out candy to the other neighborhood kids. We live in a very nice neighborhood on a cul de sac. We know most of our neighbors and while we do lock our doors at night, we had never had any issues with crime in the area. So being the victim of a crime, especially in our safe neighborhood, was the last thing thing on my mind. I was the first to arrive home that day, having just arrived home from work. Our kids were at my sister's house who lived a few neighborhoods over. They went there after school since she was home and I didn't like for our kids to be home alone after school and it was so fortunate that they had not been home alone. We had a cleaning person that came to clean twice a month and that was her day to clean. She had a key to our home so she cleaned while we were all out of the house. She did a fantastic job, but she had a habit of putting everything away to make the house look clean. I had repeatedly asked her not to, but I think she was just so set in her ways, feeling that a house just does not look clean with things lying around. So I knew that my first half hour home would be spent trying to find the things that she put away. It would sometimes take us days to find things after she had cleaned, so I was busy trying to unwind from the workday, trying to find some things that the cleaning lady had stored away who knows where and was thinking about what to make the kids for dinner. I didn't have much time as the kids would want to go out trick or treating soon, so I was a bit distracted. While I did notice a few odd things here and there in the house, I was not not concerned. First I noticed a large rock that was on the floor in the hallway area where my kitchen, dining room and laundry room meet odd. But I just picked it up and threw it away. I could not think of any reason for it to be there, but did not have time to ponder on it and just soon forgot about it. The next odd thing I noticed was that the long heavy stick that is normally kept standing up in a corner of the laundry room for a reason I can't even remember now was laying across Our bed in the downstairs master bedroom. I just assumed that for some strange reason the cleaning lady left it there. Again, very odd, but not concerning. I also noticed that the sliding glass door in our bedroom that opened to the backyard was slightly open. But again, I was not alarmed because I assumed the cleaning layer lady had opened the door to shake out a rug or something and just did not close it all the way. The sliding door was not easy to slide. I had been asking my husband to fix that, but he just never got around to it. So I thought perhaps she just could not get it closed. We are in a safe neighborhood, so I was not concerned about anything more than bugs getting into the house through the open door. And we have a six foot high security fence, so it's not like anyone would even know that the door was open. Next odd thing, just that day, a friend had asked if he could borrow our camcorder. So I went looking for it. We normally kept it on the counter below the china cabinet in the dining room, but I was not surprised when it wasn't there as I assumed the cleaning lady had put it away somewhere. But I looked everywhere I could think of that she would possibly have stored it no longer. I had no more time to waste on looking, so I called her to ask her where she had put it. She assured me that it was on the counter where she left it. I believed her and never for a moment thought she took it. So that was strange. It was nowhere to be found. Shortly thereafter, my husband came home. A few minutes later. He asked me why there was glass on the laundry room floor. Floor? I had not even gone in there after I got home. Just walked right by that room without a glance in my haste. So I hadn't noticed it. I was bummed because that meant we had to clean it up and would have to replace the window. I didn't have time for this. Still, nothing seemed sinister to me. After cleaning up the broken glass and while my husband prepared to gather the wooden tools he would need need to secure the broken window until we could get it replaced, I went back to my walk in closet to change my clothes. When I opened my jewelry box to take off my watch and rings I had worn that day, I saw that my jewelry box was completely empty. Not one thing left in it. Okay, now you have my attention. I went out to tell my husband and we were completely dumbfounded. Then I gasped as the sudden realization of what had actually happened came to me. We were robbed. I started putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone had Broken the window to our laundry room with the rock I found on the floor. That window was on the side of the house so neighbors would not see them. They most likely kept the rock in their hand to use as a weapon in case there was anyone in the house. When they saw the large heavy stuff stick in the laundry room, they figured that would make a better weapon, so just dropped the rock on the floor where I found it and continued into the house with the stronger weapon. They must have gone quickly through the house gathering up anything small that they thought was of value. Then they left through the sliding door in the master bedroom, laying the stick on our bed before they left. Then they would have had to climb over the six foot fence in our yard to get out since both gates on the sides of the house are locked. As it was the end of October, it gets dark as early as 4:30 or 5pm so they would have had the COVID of darkness to make their escape unseen. After a search of the house, there were many items missing, including the camcorder, a new set of walkie talkies we had just gotten for the kids that were kept in the cabinet above where the camcorder had been. Every single piece of my jewelry and a few more small items. Nothing from the upstairs was taken so they must have been trying to be quick about it. The only satisfaction I took was that all of my jewelry, which was nice and looked expensive, was all just costume jewelry. They thought that. They assumed that they had struck gold but would soon find out they would not get much for any of it and that made me smile. So we called the police. Police. And they came and took our statement. My kids and their friends were wide eyed with the police there and cops in our house and with the police car lights flashing. But my sister quickly whisked them off for their night of trick or treating. Apparently there was a full handprint on the upper window pane that the burglar broke as he must have placed his hands on the upper pane to try and slide it up before realizing it was locked or to push it up after he broke and unlocked the lower window pane. But those fingerprints were not in the criminal database system, so it wasn't anyone that had been caught before. We never did find out who it was, but we had our suspicions that it was someone in the construction crew that had been working on one of the houses in the cul de sac for weeks so they would have seen us leave for school and work. There was nothing taken that could not be replaced and I am just so thankful that no one was home when they broke in. If my son or daughter or even my husband or I had been home alone or walked in when the intruder was in there, he most likely would have used that weapon on us. I don't think of this incident often these days, but when I do, I shiver thinking about how tragic this one small home invasion could have become. The intruder holding that weapon while searching the house is proof he would have done us harm. We are so thankful that no one was home during that time. We have big dogs now and there is absolutely zero chance that anyone will be breaking into this house ever again. At least not without risking their lives. Come on in my dogs dare you. I am a 60 year old female now, so I grew up in a much simpler world. There were no cell phones, no computers, no video games, no social media. We spent all of our playtime outside. We used something called imagination and it was a fellow fabulous time to grow up. I was the youngest of the family. I have two sisters and one brother. We lived in a poor, small, close knit community outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania from the time I was born until I was 11 years old. My brother and my oldest sister had their own friends so I did not really associate with them outside of our house. The sister closest in age to me, Maggie, was always stuck watching out for me. But it wasn't so bad, at least for me as all of our friends were from the neighborhood and we all knew each other. My childhood, at least from my recollection, was idyllic. Maggie may have a different perspective as the one that was forced to always have me tag along. Those were the days when children spent every weekend and summer day playing outside. We only went home for lunch and dinner and only went in for the night once the street lights came on. Our parents never worried about us getting into danger. They did worry about us doing stupid things, which we often did. But as far as being hurt by strangers, that was not a concern back then by any of the parents in the neighborhood. The kids always traveled in packs so we were pretty safe on our own. I am saddened by all of the horror stories, stories that you hear about these days. All the creeps. And I used to just shake my head and think what has happened to this world. We never had to worry about creeps like that when I was growing up. I don't recall ever hearing anything about people like this when I was young and we were never lectured about stranger danger the way kids need to be these days. Back then adults were not to be feared, but were to be respected and treated trusted. And I did. But then I remembered three very specific incidents that happened when I was young. And I wonder if times haven't really changed much at all. I think I was just too young and naive at the time to understand the significance of what happened. Let me set the scene for the first two incidents. There was a park and a playground that was about a 15 minute walk from our neighborhood. And all of us anywhere from about 6, 6 to 10 kids would go there almost every day in the summer for as long as I could remember while we lived in that city. We would stop at the local dime store on our way back to pick up whatever treats our small allowances would afford us and then just hang out at the park doing kids stuff all day long. We had many fun days at that park. There was a dark, spooky path at the back of the park that led down through the woods. All of our parents threatened us with our lives if we ever dared to go into these woods. The woods were way too dangerous a place for kids our age to be entering with no adults. The water fountain and bathrooms were located at the very edge of the woods near the path. So we would be near the entrance to the woods quite a bit, but were forbidden to ever actually go down the path to the woods at that time. It was one of those things that we were always curious about but so far had not had the courage to actually do. We all pretended like it was because our parents forbade us to enter, but in actuality it was because we were all too scared. It was really spooky. The first incident happened in our local park when I was around five years old. Maggie was around six and a half or seven years old. Back in those days, even the youngest kids were out and about all day with no thoughts of the danger as long as we were all together. One day I was at the water fountain by myself getting a drink of water. Maggie and all of our friends were at the other end of the park. I just popped over to grab a drink and was intending to run back to my group. I hadn't even told Maggie as I was never supposed to be alone at the park. But she was busy doing something with our friends and I just didn't feel like asking her permission, so I went alone. While I was sipping water, a young man came over to me and said his puppy had run down the path into the woods and was lost and he asked if I would help him find his puppy. He even offered to give me 50 cents if I would help Rescue his puppy. Now, my memory could be way off on this, but when I think of him now, I remember him as being about late teens, very early 20s, and he looked like David Crow, if you know who that is. Anyway, hearing the words lost puppy and money, I was definitely intrigued. I had always loved puppies, but we were not allowed to own pets where we lived. Plus my weekly allowance was much lower than all of my friends allowances, and $0.50 back then was like $50 now to a poor kid my age. I was too young to understand that someone older than than me could have evil intentions, so I did not consider his request to be dangerous. My only hesitation was that if my mom found out I was into the woods, she would have my hide. Plus the fact that the woods were very spooky and I was scared to go in there, but I would be with an older person, so perhaps it wouldn't be so scary. So the puppy and the money incentive won out and I took the man's hand and we started to walk toward the path to the woods. I remember being a little scared of entering the forbidden woods and what might happen if my mom found out, but at the same time being so excited that I might actually get to hold a little puppy and have enough money to buy all of the yummy candy that I wanted. Just as we stepped on the path and were walking into the woods, my sister came running over and asked what I was doing. I explained to her that I was going to help this nice man find his lost puppy and that he was going to pay me 50 cents. She ran over and grabbed my hand and said no you are not. She dragged me forcibly back to where our friends were hanging out and told me to never go anywhere with someone I did not know. I was crying and upset that she ruined my chance at being able to find the puppy and earn money. I don't recall recall exactly what happened after that. I do not know where the man went, but now assume he took off running as soon as my sister grabbed my hand. And I don't remember if I was even told just how dangerous that situation really was. She probably just told me that I would get into trouble from my mom if she found out I went into the woods. I was too young to understand the true motivations of someone like that. All I know now is that my sister sister literally saved my life that day. I would either have been kidnapped or worse. No matter which, my idyllic childhood and possibly my life would have vanished forever. The second incident regarding the woods was the day we all actually did walk down the path into the woods. I was probably six or seven at the time. I cannot remember what led up to us actually taking that walk into the park. Park. But I can only imagine that there were days and probably weeks of planning and getting up the courage to do this, but we actually did it. Curiosity eventually won out. We had to know what was down that path. So off we went. Very nervous, but also excited. At first it seemed so nice and pretty and safe. We were wondering what all the fuss was about and why our parents parents didn't want us in there. But after about five or ten minutes down the path, the woods got thicker, which made the sky darker. Until soon we were in the midst of a very scary spooky forest and we did not see anyone else on the path. We had no idea where the path led to, so we weren't sure how long it would take to get to the other side. One by one, we started losing our bravado. But no one wanted to be the first to be called chicken. But we were city kids and had never actually been into the woods or forest, so this was all new and creepy. After about 20 minutes of trudging into the ever more scary forest, hearing wildlife sounds we were not used to, and worrying about what else was in the woods that might jump out at us, we started discussing whether we should turn around or keep going. We were struggling with what to do as we had come this far far and not to find out what was on the other end of the path was going to bother us. We were really spooked by the fact that there were no other people walking along the path. Either way, we know we had seen people enter the path to the woods before, so why wasn't there anyone now? We would have been so happy to see other people, to know we were not going to die in these woods alone. But there was no one. It was getting much too dark for us to bear. And without knowing how much further the path went on, and actually not even knowing where we would end up if we did take the path to the end, we all came to an agreement that we would turn around and head back. Just when we turned around and started walking back the way we came, we noticed a group of people walking toward us. Wow, were we ever glad to see them. We all let out sighs of relief and even briefly discussed how we would follow them and actually take the trail to the other end after all. But the closer we came to the group of people, the more worried we became. It was a group of about five or six older teenagers, girls and boys, and they did not look friendly. We collectively made our way to the right side of the path, heads down, hoping they would not pay attention to us and would just leave us alone. But that was not to be. They started harassing us us and were reaching out like they were going to hit us, which would make us flinch and they would laugh. I was the youngest of the group and I was terrified. Some of them actually took swings at some of the others in my group and we were no match for these older kids. I was crying and everyone was yelling and I was afraid we were all going to be beat to a pulp. I was so confused. I did not understand why they would want to hurt us. They didn't even know us and we had done nothing to make them mad at us. Just as things were getting really bad, thankfully there were some adults coming down the path and they ran over to see what was going on. The older kids that were bothering us started running in the opposite direction and we were finally safe. That's twice I was spared unknown horrors by the hands of strangers. Our race rescuers made sure we were okay and actually walked with us back to the park where we first entered the woods to make sure we made it out safely. Needless to say we never went back into those woods again. The third incident occurred when I was a few years older, probably around 7 or 8. I was walking down a small alley near our neighborhood with one of my best friends and her husky dog. I will preface this by saying that I was a very naive and innocent kid, while thankfully my friend was much more street smart. A car pulled up slowly beside us and the driver was a middle aged, nondescript looking man. Well, I say middle aged because in my young mind anyone older than 20 was old. He could have been in his 20s for all I know. His window was rolled down and he had said something in a low voice to it us. I had no idea what he was saying, but my friend just ignored him and told me to keep walking. I thought she was being very rude and as I said before, I was taught to always treat adults with respect. So I stopped and got closer to the passenger side window which was rolled down and asked him what he said. He repeated, would you guys like to play with this? I saw he had his hands in his lap holding something, but I could not see what it was. I assumed it must have been a toy or something. I have no idea. He asked us again if we would like to play with this. As I got in closer to get a better look, my friend grabbed my arm and said, let's go. And we turned around and started walking back in the opposite direction that the car was facing, back toward home. I was very confused. Confused. But my friend knew that to try to explain the facts of life to me right then was not something she wanted to do. So she just told me he was a very bad man that meant to do us harm. I had absolutely no idea what she meant and why she thought he was dangerous. But we never spoke of it again that I can recall. I didn't even realize exactly what that entire incident meant until I was much older and thought of it again. Again. So third time's a charm. I was yet again rescued from a situation that could have forever changed my life. It haunts me even today to think of how just a few short moments could have changed my life forever. I am a female, and when I was in my early 20s in the late 1970s, I drove a Volkswagen Bug that at that time had many mechanical issues. I loved that car dearly because it was the first car I ever owned, which I purchased while I was still a senior in high school. So I was determined to drive it until the engine gave out for good. At this particular time, there was an oil leak. I was too broke to actually repair the leak, but I knew exactly what to do to keep it running. I kept cans of oil into funnel in my car at all times. When the red oil light came on, I knew I had a very small window of time to stop and add some oil. Once the oil was added, it was good to go for another week. Yeah, sounds like a lot of hassle. But I was young and stupid and broke. Broke. And that was just easier than having to come up with the hundreds of dollars it would have taken to get it fixed properly. But I didn't mind. I just got used to it. I was living in Dallas, Texas, and my parents lived about 90 miles east of Dallas in a very small town. I would visit them on weekends sometimes. At that time in my life, I was heavily into partying at clubs. So much so that there would come times when I just needed a break from all the partying and would go to spend the weekend with my parents now and again. Sometimes I just needed that break. And they were such great parents and they loved when I came to visit them. This was back in the days when work days were not flexible like they were today. If you wanted to keep a good job, you had to be there every day on time, no excuses. So I had to Be at work on Monday mornings for bright and early. So now and then I would just get up early on that Monday morning and drive straight to work from my parents house. But since I was always paranoid about not getting up on Monday morning in time to make it to work on time, most times I would just drive home Sunday night. This particular trip, I drove home on a Sunday night. It was dark by the time I was on the road, but I wasn't concerned since I had my oil cans with me and knew how to change the oil oil quickly and easily like a Daytona 500 pit crew worker. And again, I was young and stupid and invincible as all young and stupid people think they are. My parents always worried about me driving so late in that rat trap of a car, but I assured them I was fine. So off I went, tooling down the highway about halfway home. Wouldn't you know it, the red oil light came on and by now it was pitch black outside. And of course it happened on a long stretch of highway with absolutely no towns around and no lights anywhere. But I had driven this road hundreds of times and knew exactly where the exits were. Thankfully there was an exit just up ahead and I pulled off and drove up this secluded roadway until I found a place to stop on a little side road. These little towns, towns in Texas were way off the highway, so there was nothing around where I found myself. Not even a gas station. Nothing at all. But I was not concerned. I had my flashlight and figured I would put the oil in and be back on the highway in a few minutes. Easy peasy. My car headlights shown up on a dirt pathway in front of where I pulled my car to and I kept the headlights on as it was the only, only light around. This being an old vw. Oddly enough, the engines were in the back. So while the lights wouldn't help me much during my oil endeavor, I wanted some light around me at least. As I was just about to open my door and hop out to do my pit crew thing, I looked up and noticed something in my headlights. At first I thought it was a big dog. That wouldn't have been unusual because if there was a farm further inland, they usually had dogs and the dogs always liked to roam around. I love dogs and was thinking how cute. Until I suddenly stopped and took a closer look at him. He was not a dog at all. He was a very large wolf and he did not look happy to see me. He just sat there a few yards in front of my car and was growling at me, baring his teeth. He didn't get up. He just sat there staring intently at me and continuously growling. My first instinct was to just drive to another area, but I knew that if I tried to do that, I would permanently damage my car engine and I would not only truly be stuck there, but I would be screwed without a car. When I say I had minimal time to stop and pour oil into that engine, I mean minimal. And. And I had already pushed the limit getting to the place I stopped. So I sat there wondering what I was going to do. There were no cell phones back then to just call someone to help. I was on my own. I figured I had only two risk my life trying to put oil in the engine or just sit there and wait until the wolf got bored and left. I opted for the latter at first. But this creature was just. Just spooky. He didn't move, he didn't blink. Just sat there intently staring at me and growling, showing those pointy, dangerous teeth. Not a loud growl, just a low, menacing growl continuously. It was just so eerie. So I just sat and waited. I turned off the headlights, not only to save my battery, since I was not sure how long I would be there, but I thought perhaps he would leave if I turned them off. He didn't. So I waited. And waited. At least an hour went by with him just staring at me and growling. Spookiest thing I have ever seen. But I was about to have to choose option number two as I had to use the bathroom so badly I tried to get my mind off of it. But after 30 more minutes, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. He did not seem to be tiring of this strange standoff, but now I was even more fearful of getting out of my car. If he could sit like that and just stare and growl for an hour and a half, he was not a normal animal. So I spent another 10 or 15 minutes going over in my mind exactly how I was going to do this. This was the only time I was so thankful that the engine was in the back. No way would I want to be walking toward him and be closer to him while I had to deal with the oil. No idea what he might have done if I was out of the car and closer to him. I was glad I did not have to find out. So with my plan in place in my head, I slowly opened my car door. I just did things very slowly, keeping my eyes on him to see if he was going to run toward me as I slowly opened the door. Bit by bit. He never wavered in his stance or staring or growling. It was so scary, I was terrified. Once I was out of the car, I walked in slow motion toward the back of the car. I kept the car door open so that if he came in my direction, I could jump back in. So slowly, step by step, I walked to the back of the the car. I didn't want to make any sudden movements that might set him off. Once back there, I opened the hood, unscrewed that oil cap and oil can, and put in some oil. I don't even think I put in the whole can. I figured I could put enough in to get to a gas station further up the highway where it was safe. And the whole time I did this, that creepy wolf did not move, still staring at me, still growling and baring his teeth, not budging at all. Once I slowly closed the hood to the engine, I inched toward my car door. Since I would now have to walk toward him to get back in my car. I was so afraid he would take that as a threat and attack. But I made it safely to my car and slammed that door shut, turned on my car engine and backed up to get on the road, which would lead me to to the highway. As soon as I put the car in gear to head toward the highway, I saw the creature turn around and just walk away slowly in the direction they came from. I don't know how any living thing, human or animal, could be so still and stare so intently and growl so unendingly for that long of a time. It wasn't normal or natural. I was shaking the rest of the the way home. I didn't even stop to put more oil in. And thankfully my red oil light did not come back on that night. After my parents found out what happened, my father showed up at my apartment the next week with a brand new car for me. They never wanted to have to worry about me endangering my life with a faulty car ever again. And needless to say, I never took that exit off that highway ever again. This story takes place in the summer of 2001 in Southern Rhode island, where I'm from. I am a female for reference, and I was 20 years old that summer, in between my junior and senior years of college, college at the University of Rhode Island. I decided to stay on campus and take some classes so my senior year would be a little lighter and be less stressful for me. So I rented a cute little apartment with a friend near campus. And we loved it. There were a lot of other college students around, and I enjoyed living so close to the beach in Summertime my schedule was pretty open so even though I was working and going to school part time, I I had a lot of time to myself and loved the freedom I had to do whatever I wanted. I have always been into fitness and exercise and one of my favorite things to do that summer was take my rollerblades down to the local bike path and listen to music on my earbuds while I glided down the long straight path. Every day I would drive to the bike path and park my car at the park close by to the path and rollerblade the mile long path until it ended and where another park began. At that second park I would sometimes rest on one of the benches and take a little break and drink some water before turning back around to go down the bike path again and ending up at the original park where my car was two miles every day. It was fun and great exercise right up until this incident that I am about to chronicle for you. On this particular morning I slept in and was running late getting ready for my daily workout. I could not find my earbuds anywhere. They were not where I normally left them on the kitchen counter and after spending some time looking for them around the apartment without any luck, I just said screw it and decided to go exercise without them. I get to the park, put my rollerblades on and start my first mile. It was a beautiful July morning and I was in enjoying myself when suddenly, unexplainably, about halfway through the mile, something felt very wrong. The temperature was in the 80s but I had goosebumps all up and down my arms and legs. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up and I had an intense sinking feeling of dread in my gut. I have always had a very strong intuition. I trust it with my life. I have felt this feeling before in the past and it has always served as a warning. But I kept on skating, becoming very aware of my surroundings. Fight or flight was kicking in and I didn't even understand why that is when I saw him. There was a man up ahead on the trail off to the side of the path. The first thing I realized was that he was taking steps backwards off the path. He was trying to hide from me behind a tree, but I could still see his face from a good distance away, watching me like a dead eyed predator. He stood there with his hands in his front pockets, not moving at all. I skated closer to him. The dread in my stomach grew. I noticed he was not wearing workout clothes. He had on an oversized hoodie, jeans and work boots. Nothing you would wear if you were there to exercise Now I had to quickly make a choice. Do I stop and turn around the way I came from, possibly endangering my life by losing the speed and momentum I had gained? Do I keep skating past him and hope he doesn't rush me from the side, pushing me off the path? The fear I felt turned quickly to rage. Quick backstory on me. I am no stranger to violence from my past, I thought. Why should I live my life afraid? Why should I be afraid of these men who think they can just take what they want from me? Do they think I'm just going to take it? I felt my hands ball up into fists, my jaw jut out in defiance, and I decided to stand my ground. Something told me that as I passed him, that I needed to remember everything about what he looked like. I noted his dark eyes and beard, his plain blue baseball cap, his hoodie and jeans and construction boots. I could tell my nostrils were flared and my eyes were flashing anger and I glared at him with an intensity that said, I see you there and I am ready to fight you if I need to. We maintained eye contact for what felt like a long time but could not have been more than a few seconds. Then he actually broke eye contact and looked away from me. I knew he had changed his mind about whatever he was considering doing, but I was still not safe yet. I flew as fast as I could to the second park and got off the bike path. Now I was in a tough position. My car was a mile away, as was my shoes and cell phone. I could not go back down that path again and risk passing him a second time. He might have moved. He might have been hiding in a better place, waiting for me, knowing I would need to go back down the path to get to my car. So I took off my Rollerblades and made my way over to the road that ran parallel to the path and walked the mile back to my car in my socks, carrying my skates. It probably looked a little strange to the drivers that went by, and that walk seemed to take forever. Once I saw my car, I ran to it as fast as I could and locked myself in and I never went back there to rollerblade again. Unfortunately, the story does not stop here. After this incident, I went on with the rest of my day. I went to class. I made lunch at my apartment. I got ready for work and went to my closing shift where I worked as a waitress. I returned to my apartment complex every around 10pm to find my neighbor yelling excitedly on his cell Phone in the parking lot, pacing and smoking a cigarette as he talked. He and his girlfriend lived upstairs from me. I didn't know them well, but they were friendly enough. She studied nursing and he was a business major. We had all hung out shortly after move in day drinking beers and smoking on their balcony. And I thought they would both be pretty nice people. I parked. I parked my car and started walking towards the building just as he was hanging up from his call. I nodded politely towards him and offered a friendly greeting. Something like, hey, how's it going man? Seeing his face closer now under the lights, I could tell he had been crying. He told me his girlfriend was in the hospital. She had been attacked by a strange man and was recovering from some various injuries. My most seriously, a head injury from smacking her head on concrete. As he described to me what happened, I felt tears rising in my own eyes and I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. What I said to him next made his jaw drop. I said, did this happen on the bike path? He incredulously said yes and demanded to know how I knew that. I told him I knew who did it and I explained what happened to me that morning. He immediately asked if I could talk to the police and give a description of the man. Because of the little voice in my head that told me I needed to remember everything about his appearance, I was able to give a full detailed description of this man to the police. For months after the incident, I checked the news to see if he was ever caught, but I never heard that he was. The girl he attacked did make a full recovery and shortly after returning from the hospital, she and her parents showed up in a moving van and packed up all of her things from her apartment. I never saw her again for a long time after that. I felt a lot of guilt about what happened to her. I felt that somehow her fate was meant for me. But I had skirted it and left it for someone else to suffer through. What did I do that she didn't? The last and most chilling piece of this story. The earbuds that I had lost the morning of this incident. The ones that I had looked all over my apartment for and that I had decided to forego using that day because I didn't have the time to look. I found them the next day on the kitchen counter, exactly where they were supposed to be. I know for a fact they weren't there when I looked. And I can't explain why they disappeared that morning. I know my roommate didn't take them. I can only Assume that my awareness of the situation was the thing that saved me in the end and some higher power was looking out for me that day. This just happened to me. Once I got off work. I went straight to bed and that was around 4 or 5 o' clock in the afternoon. I guess you can say I'm a night owl because my job schedule varies throughout the week. Either I'm working at night or I'm working in the morning. This day I had to work in the morning, so I stayed up the night. Earlier. I Woke up around 9pm I got up to talk to the family, watched some TV and then started getting tired again. This was around 1am and I decided to go back to bed and I actually felt the weight of sleeping this time. Once I got my bed ready, I put YouTube on for a little background noise and just started to drift off. Then all of a sudden everything was quiet. Then I dreamed about waking up in a building. A building I have dreamt of before, but not for a long time. I was laying on a sleeping bag in a decrepit room with no furniture. I wasn't scared, but confused. The door leading outside suddenly swings open and someone walking in, then slamming it shut. Then I was automatically pushed out of the dream as if I was jolted awake. I was laying there thinking, thinking maybe I was just experiencing sleep apnea. And tried to get up, but I couldn't. I couldn't move my arms, my legs. It's like I left my body for the next minute of what I'm about to tell you. I have had experience with sleep paralysis before, but not to this extent. Once I knew my body went numb, I started to panic, started to breathe heavily. It was unbearably long, longer than it should have been for me. It would last around 30 seconds at most. And I haven't even experienced the large weight on my chest yet. That's what I was actually waiting for. And I guess my body was trying to prepare for it because the dread was like a sharp knife point and it just kept jabbing me each passing second. Then I stopped breathing because what happened next made my heart stop and my blood. In close proximity of my ear, I heard someone say, hey. It sounded like a woman whispering in my ear. I was so disturbed. I tried to call out for help, but I knew that couldn't work because I couldn't even breathe out a syllable. I tried to break free of this invisible bind, but I gave up and I knew I had to rough through it. The next thing I know, something sits on my chest. But it wasn't the normal weight I would experience in these episodes. It was something lighter that felt less aggressive. It felt like fingertips caressing across my chest in a sensual way. Laying down on my right pec, it was followed by a leg wrapping itself on the front of my thighs. The next thing I know, the left side of my body was being weighed upon. Like someone would be cuddling up next to me. Just for the record, I don't have a girlfriend and I doubt anyone in my house would start sneaking into my room at night. I was frightened and confused. I still couldn't move. Then the voice came back. What are you doing? It said in a very quiet, sincere tone. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew I had to respond. So as calmly as I could, I said, I'm trying to sleep. That's when I noticed my face can move and my hands can move. But I refused to open my eyes because I didn't care for what there was to see. The next thing I knew, the weight on my left side started to diminish and my body can move again. So I shot up, looked around the room. No one is there. My senses started to come back and the sound of my computer comes back to me like it was never turned off. I didn't bother going back to sleep. I guess this is a wake up call. I need a better sleep schedule. Probably need to change a few things from now on, but my mind is still stuck on it. Was it a spirit? Was it part of the dream I was having? If it was a spirit, maybe it was just lonely and it just needed a body to lay with. Maybe it was a dream, but I don't dream that often. Especially if the touch I felt is real. I don't know what to think. I guess I'll just chalk it up to a hallucination and get on with my life. I am 23 years old now, but I still remember this experience. I am a male and was in, I think first grade, about six or seven years old. On Halloween night, my parents took my little sister and I trick or treating. And I remember feeling super excited. Halloween was always one of my favorite holidays. I remember we went to the rich people's neighborhood because they always gave out the most candy. I remember I got a bit too excited and went on ahead on my own. And as a kid I was so amazed at everyone's costume. I would often go up to random people, look at them and compliment them on their costume. I know it wasn't a good idea to do so, especially being on my own, but I was a kid so I didn't know any better. One of the people had a scary mask on and I was blown away on how cool it looked and I had to tell them, so I did. I went up to him and told him how much I liked his mask and he just stared at me for a few seconds. He pulled out his arm and grabbed onto my hand with a tight grip. I tried to pull away but he wasn't letting go. Instead, he continued to keep walking while holding onto me. I was so terrified that this stranger wasn't letting go and was taking me somewhere. I started screaming, but with crowds and crowds of people. Nobody realized what was going on. I was looking all over the place trying to find my parents and I managed to see my mom in the crowd not too far behind me. She also saw me and was calling out while trying to get through the crowd. The stranger must have noticed that because he immediately let go and took off. Very quickly I caught up to my mom and for some reason I decided not to tell her. It was only until a few years ago when I brought it up and she said that I never told her about it and was surprised about what I went through. It is a scary thought knowing that people out there kidnap kids and do really bad things. I was very lucky to have found my mom when I did. Who knows what would have happened. So some exposition this story takes place in northern illinois back in 2007. Ish. I was about 16 at the time time and we had moved into a developing neighborhood that was up and coming. The land of the neighborhood was hilly, covered in woods and led down to a small lake. Down by the lake there were some houses that had been there for years and were separate from the company that built our place. The neighborhood was exactly what my family was looking for. The lots were sizable and not too close to each other and most still harbored quite a bit of of woods, perfect for maintaining some privacy and getting in touch with nature, all without being too removed from society. At least that's how it was in our small cul de sac at the time of this story. There was our home and two other houses on our road, one of those being the model home for the development company. Our cul de sac emptied onto the main vein of the neighborhood, which was a steep forested road without any street lamps save for the one at the end of our street. It was a really neat road that led all the way down to the lake and my family actually hiked it often. It made for a Beautiful walk despite its hills. We had been living there for about a year or two when I had a weird, maybe mundane encounter. Some further exposition. We had two dogs. A boisterous, reckless, independent rat terrier named Belle and a sheepish, shy, but very noisy Sheltland sheepdog named Zuri. They were amazing dogs that brought so much love and joy into our lives, but also some occasional stress. Zuri the Sheltie was a nervous dog that barked at her own shadow. She was very sweet and wouldn't hurt a fly, but would soon certainly alert everyone about its existence. This habit of overreacting went terribly with Belle's tendency to find trouble. See, Belle wasn't the most well trained dog in the world. She was feisty despite her size and did not back down from, well, anything. She had a habit of cornering our previous neighbor's Great Dane if given the chance. And although she never outright attacked it anything, she was always acting brash and aggressive when it came to other dogs and wildlife. Even when people came into or near the house, she always had something to say, usually via loud barking. She was a spunky one, that bell. We didn't have a fence yet, therefore letting the dogs out at night was sometimes unnerving. Raccoons were something we saw occasionally being in the middle of the woods. The thought of Belle tearing up a raccoon, completely ignoring my pleas for her to stop was all too real. If she picked a fight with the wrong animal, it could end badly. That fear was always in the back of my mind when letting her out. In all reality, I should have always leashed her. But she had a habit of not wanting to go when on the leash, and a majority of the time nothing happened anyway anyway, so I didn't. One of the ways I mitigated my risk is taking the dogs out the front door and letting them do their thing in the front yard. Our backyard was pretty wooded, but our front lawn was just grass and landscaping. From our porch, you could see the whole cul de sac. There was the house at the end of the loop and then the model home at the start of the road, illuminated by the lone street light. There was still woods in the lots across from us that Belle could zoom off into, though, which, unfortunately, one night she did. She had her nose to the ground one moment looking to do her business, and then the next she was at full attention, glaring into the darkness beyond before peeling off. Zuri, ever jumpy and always ready to bark at the smallest disturbance, made a commotion. As I raced after Belle, I was frantically yelling crying and begging for her to come back as I zipped across the road. I was ready to dive into the brush to rescue my tiny, foolish dog, but instead saw her stomping along the tree line, hackles up and bossily smelling for something. Whatever she had charged after had taken off upon seeing her coming. Thank goodness I scooped her up and scolded her, carrying her back home in a spooked huff. I had been seriously shaken up from the whole ordeal, possibly because I hadn't seen her take off like that in a while. Usually she was really good for me in the front yard. Well, good for Belle. She was just too confrontational for her own good. It was the following night that I was watching Belle like a warden. I was standing right next to her in the front yard yard, monitoring for any body language that threatened she was about to take off. Luckily, she usually was pretty obvious when she was about to charge. Both dogs were sniffing around, taking their time, when I lifted my gaze to look around the night. It was early autumn and the sound of wind rustling the trees was all around me. Other than that, it was calm and quiet. I was studying the treeline along our cul de sac when my eyes finally found the model home and thus the street lamp. That's when I saw it. My heart bludgeoned against my chest in a sudden jolt of terror, and I wrestled with disbelief, unable to process what I was seeing. There, lurching and shifting and lumbering along the road as though the lamp was spotlighting him was a pale, naked person. I use those verbs, but they aren't exactly right. The way this person moved defies common description. It was rough and sloppy, but yet eerily smooth and effortless. If anyone is familiar with Voldo from Soul Calibur, that is the closest example of its movements that I can think of. They were tall, easily over six feet, and their limbs looked to be too long for their body, which made their strange dance across the pavement all the more unsettling. I say dance because the way they moved was more akin to that than walking. It was gaudily flinging its arms forward, then heaving its legs after in large arcs, clumsy but defyingly fluid. As it lurked along, one glaring detail pierced my senses. It looked as if they were completely devoid of any facial features. This person, this swaying, white, sickly person, did not seem to have a face. Nothing at all. Maybe it was a mask. I gawked in horror as the figure carried steadily along its route, passing right by our coldest and down the wooded, steep blackness of the main road that laid ahead. They never once seemed aware of me, but I was blaringly aware of them. Then, all too fast and violently, I remembered the little argumentative, confrontational dog at my feet and her very noisy sister. I dove for Belle and swept her up, overcome with terror. As my nerves were electrified, I bounded to the porch and opened the door to drop her inside, shutting it in a snap. All I could think of was Zuri spotting the person and barking, earning their attention. I ran to the sheltie, and by some miracle she was none the wiser to the visitor, just my alarmed state. I too picked her up and fled inside. My room was upstairs, with a similar vantage of the Culdesac, and I sprang up the steps, daring to get one last glimpse of the naked, faceless person. By the time I parted my blinds and pressed my face against the window, terrified but curious, there was nothing but the street lamp against the inky dark. Whatever it was, they were gone. I always let the dogs out in the backyard after that. Here are some theories. A possibility is that it was some streaker getting their kicks in, but there are a few problems with that explanation. First, although the texture of the person seemed flesh, like it seemed rubbery at the same time, almost shiny. I suppose they could have oiled themselves up, but it still seemed a bit too off to just be skin. That and its lack of face. Streakers can't just take off their facial features like an article of clothing. This leads to my strongest theory. Someone running around in a white morph suit. This would mark all the boxes that didn't get checked in the streaker theory. But it still doesn't adequately explain everything for me. The uncanny length of the limbs, the jarring, unnatural way it moved, the insurmountable dread that seized me. But fear is an unreliable narrator, as it goes. What do you think? Weird but innocent? Thrill seeker or something more paranormal? It's.