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A couple of weeks ago, I noticed a smell around mine and my neighbor's property. I had noticed their dog had been gone for a while, so I thought the dog had died and thought nothing of it really. A few more days go by. The smell is getting worse and worse. On the day I found him, I was outside chopping up tree branches from the past few storms while my wife and son were playing in the backyard. The smell at this point had gotten so strong my whole backyard smelled. You could even smell it when you got in the car in our driveway. My 2 year old son was even making faces of disgust. A friend of mine comes over and started looking for where the smell was coming from. He follows it to my neighbor's yard, but the smell is so strong he almost throws up, doesn't see anything and just gives up his search. My wife at this point is is debating on calling the police. I tell her to hold off because what if it's just their dog? I tell her I'm going to hop the fence to see if I can come across it. I was going to go offer to bury it for my neighbors as they are elderly and maybe they just couldn't take care of it properly. So I hopped the fence. This isn't the first time I've smelled death, but this is the worst smell I have ever smelled. I take one step and that's all I needed. Behind their shed was the corpse of a fully grown man slumped over, grey skin, gray eyes staring back at me. He was wearing a red flannel shirt tucked into his blue jeans and work shoes, flies coming out of his mouth, his nose and his ears. My guess is he had been there for about a week in a muggy Georgia heat. I had a T shirt over my face to protect me from the smell, but being that close, I did almost throw up. I ran back to the fence, jumped it quickly, ran to my house and told my wife to call the police. At first I didn't believe my eyes. I told myself there's no way that I actually just found a body. So while my wife made the call, I went back out to the border of the property and shouted out for him. But I got no response. About 45 minutes later, an officer shows up and I explain what I saw. The officer seemed to not believe me. I wouldn't either. That is, until he walks back there himself. I follow along to show him, but before I even get back to the fence, I hear him say, yeah, that's a body. And he calls it in. Two sheriff's cars, three crime scene trucks, an investigator with his car, a coroner van, all show up within the next 10 minutes. I go and give my statement to the investigator and that was that. I talked to my neighbors about everything as well. They noticed the smell, but assumed it was a cat or something. They also explained that they were on vacation for a week, which is when the dog hopped the fence and ran away. They had no idea who this person was or how they got there. Aside from the police, I was the only one who saw the body up close. The image is stuck in my head and plagues my dreams. I can't look in my backyard without thinking about him. It's been a couple weeks now now, and we still smell him randomly sometimes. I work with bleach for a living and even at work I smell him. The cops told me that he was a John Doe and an od. It's nice to know my neighbors aren't murderers, but I don't know how to move on. My wife and I are talking about moving early next year, but I honestly feel this is something that will stick with me for the rest of my days. I'd like to preface this story by acknowledging that the truthfulness or reliability of asylum or escaped mental patients stories tends to be questionable. The reason why I'm skeptical of those stories is that large scale closures of asylums began in 1967 through the 1980s and were completely decommissioned by 2015. So I raise my eyebrow whenever someone talks about spooky asylum stories that happened within the last two decades or so. Still, I will be sharing my story as factually as as my memory allows and refrain from exaggerating any aspect. I often visited my grandparents home in Traverse City in northern Michigan during the summers with my parents. Traverse City is a beautiful place, produces 75% of the world's cherries, and was home to the Traverse City Regional Psychiatric Hospital, which operated from 1885-19. Since the United States Federal government officially deemed the hospital worthy of preservation for its historical significance, the buildings on the hospital grounds were guarded by patrolling security guards. The Traverse City Psychiatric Hospital was massive, including 70 or 80 buildings of various sizes. Some buildings have now been converted into restaurants, gift shops, tourism traps, cafes, etc. But many remain empty and abandoned. Underneath the hospital is a sprawling brick tunnel system which the hospital staff used to safely transport the patients from building to building in the frigid winter temperatures. I'm sure there were instances where the patients underwent cruel treatments or were subjected to the the care of horrible doctors. But the Traverse City Psych Hospital had a great reputation. Many teenagers, including myself at the time, were unashamedly fascinated with the hospital and its history. As a result, we would often break into abandoned buildings through unbarred windows or doors with pickable padlocks. While there were a few cases where teens would get caught and charged with the breaking and entering, as long as we were stealthy, stuck to our safe entrances and paid attention to the guards patrol patterns, we could go in and out without worry. I am not advocating for or trying to justify my criminal act of B and E, but breaking into the old hospital was almost a rite of passage for the Traverse City teens. The hospital's interior was terrifying. There was old stained and broken equipment and furniture, crumbling floors and walls, vandalism, strange old building noises, and complete and utter darkness in the tunnels, basements and lower floors. Using flashlights was too risky with the guards patrolling, so we often navigated the hospital by memory and our dimly lit phone screens. As you can imagine, our frightened youthful imaginations ran wild with horror stories, which is pretty ironic considering we made up most of those stories. Unfortunately, during my last trip inside, I encountered something that terrified me to the point I swore off ever returning. The story takes place around 10pm the moonlight was dim and most patrol guards left for the day. Clad in black, my friend Jason and I entered through the same window we always used and followed our regular path to one of the tall jutting spires to sit by the windows that overlooked the entire city. There was only one thing different about this venture from the others. A new, faint and unexplainable smoky odor. Not smoke, smoky like fire, but something more akin to incense. The smell was so faint we almost thought we were imagining it, but it grew stronger as we got closer to our destination. Rather than taking the stairs that led up to the spire, we followed the smell down to a different hallway until we reached a room with a deep red glow emanating from the doorway. Rather than doing the smart thing by leaving immediately, we couldn't resist the urge to walk closer and investigate. When we finally reached the room, I audibly gasped and felt Jason grip my wrist so hard his nails left marks on my skin. We found a large ring of red votive candles and burning incense circling a drawing of a pentagram with a sigil of Baphomet. In the center of the drawing was a dead, bloodied bird surrounded by black feathers. Bear in mind that I was raised devoutly Catholic, so seeing this image filled me with a sense of fear stronger and more paralyzing than any ghost sighting ever could. Later on that night, Jason told me I immediately started mumbling prayers, but I personally don't remember doing that. I wouldn't be too terribly surprised, though. While the duration felt infinite, I'm not sure how long we stared at the occult scene before hearing a man's low and ominous voice behind us saying, welcome friends. I promise you that there was absolutely nothing for friendly about the way that guy greeted us. Jason and I screamed bloody murder, whipped around and saw two nicely dressed but frazzled looking adult men smiling at us. The man in front of me held something in his hand and while I can't say for sure what it was, I remember thinking that it was a knife at the time, which wouldn't be too crazy of a guess considering they recently sacrificed a bird or what looked like a real bird. Jason and I sprinted past the two and I felt someone's fingers grab the back of my shirt. Thankfully, the occultist's hand didn't have a solid hold on me because I ducked and managed to escape his grip. The men shouted for us to stop running, which we obviously didn't. We heard their footsteps chasing after us for a little while, but thankfully Jason and I had broken into the hospital so many times that running through the unlit rooms, hallways and tunnels was no challenge. When we finally reached and vaulted through our escape window, the occultists were nowhere to be seen or heard. We kept running through the hospital grounds until we reached Jason's car with no concern for the patrol guards. We would have rather gotten caught by the guards than the occultists. I puked twice in the parking lot. Whether the cause was fear sprinting nonstop for a mile and a half or a combination of both, I'm not sure what would have happened if the occultists caught us, but I know for sure they weren't going to crack open a beer and sing Kumbaya by the candlelight. I'm not familiar with cultic practices or satanic rituals, so I'm not sure what the men were trying to do or if they were summoning something. Jason and I never returned to the hospital during that summer or any of the following summers. While we aren't close now that we're adults, I know that heart horrifying experience will keep us cemented in each other's memories until we die. There is a small town not far from me that has a nice little downtown area with a few blocks of shops and restaurants. I love coming to this area on my own since it has some different kinds of boutiques and restaurants where I would shop, grab some lunch or a drink by myself and just enjoy my own company. The area does not seem sketchy to me, but I always hear my Italian grandma's voice in the back of my head saying, you be careful walking alone. She brings this up almost every time I see her and I don't dismiss it, but I am cautious when I go places, especially when I'm alone. Once I found out there was a little hole in the wall hair salon on Main Street. I made it a point to go there as my go to hair place. The salon was trendy with an antique vibe. It was a narrow old looking hallway with a section to the left of four to five hair stations and then further down was the register counter near a back door door to a parking lot area. My appointment was One of their last times available. And the girls that worked in the salon seemed very new and took their time with every process. I don't mind them being careful with what they were doing, but they seemed to always have to walk away for a period of time from the chair to go get something from the storage room which was down some stairs. And that was a big meeting place to talk to together. While I was sitting in the salon, I could hear a little commotion going on outside along the street, like there was someone making a case to ask for money from people walking by. There was something unsettling about this since every now and then I would hear a loud yip or bark noise that seemed to be getting closer to the open door of the salon to the main street. I kept staring at the doorway and the window of the salon as I waited for my girl to come back. The people that walked by seemed to have such puzzled, horrified looks on their faces and almost broke their necks to turn back around to stare at something behind them again which was out of sight. I would hear the odd yip noise every now and then, but it seemed like it tapered off as the main street started to clear out. I brought it to the stylists and attention. When they returned by asking what did they think was going on out there, they seemed to brush it off with an uneasy giggle. Oh, it's fine. Probably just Fredo. With a giggle and a glance at her other co workers. I usually would not feel anxious, but it was visibly getting darker out and the main street was starting to clear out. I had a walk back to my car a while later. I was feeling good, about ready to leave the salon. I tipped my stylist and she told me she would meet me at the back register to pay for my service. I got up, walked down a short hallway and quickly made a turn to run to the bathroom before I had to pay my bill and go home. As I came out of the nook from the restrooms, I turned to my left to call out to my stylist that I was ready to check out. But when I walked out into the hallway, I was met with someone dressed in raggedy brown and black clothes standing in the hallway where I had to leave through. The person stopped in their tracks. The person had a pungent urine smell and not only were they raggedy, but they were wearing something over their head that looked like a mask or a headpiece. The person standing standing in the hall was wearing a full on botched taxidermied head and neck piece of a wolf or coyote with wild glass eyes and a snarling smiling mouth which looked like it was plastered onto some papier mache helmet which this person was wearing for God knows what reason. We both stopped in our tracks when we saw each other, but the man and the wolf head started to slowly inch toward towards me and the back door. I have no idea what this man's intentions were, but my heart sank when I saw him walk closer to me and the door. My instincts kicked in and I just ran for the back door. Ran through the parking lot as fast as I could until I found a restaurant that was open. I felt like I was in a dream or a video game. Everything was in slow motion. I thought any second that the man would jump out and grab me, but I just ran. Panic attacks are real. I felt like I could faint for about 15 to 20 minutes after reaching the restaurant. I requested an Uber back to my parked car and I noticed the hair salon didn't even call me to ask where I was to pay my bill. I called and left a message saying I would mail them a check. Just an answering machine picked up. I try not to let this experience deter me from coming back to this little town on my own. My Italian grandma's voice is louder in my head and it did take me a few months to come back, but I will never be around alone in this town again after the sun starts to go down When I was 15, I stayed with my dad in Ohio for the summer. At the time, he was living in a finished basement apartment in the home of my much older sister, his daughter from a previous marriage. My sister Mel has a daughter close to my age named Caitlin, who was 14 at the time. A week or two into my stay, Caitlin and I were left home to watch her younger sisters, Danny and Jamie, while Mel went into work her night shift at the bar. My dad normally went out to the bar himself for a few hours a night to catch the game and hang out with his friends, and this night was no different. We spent a few hours watching TV with the younger girls after dinner and finally sent them up to bed around 10 o'. Clock. Caitlin and I were enjoying having the living room to ourselves and listening to the Eminem CD that she had become pretty obsessed with over the last few weeks. Around 10:30 we were heating up something to eat when we heard a knock at the front door. For some context, my sister lived a few miles outside of a really small rural town, a good 30 minutes from the city city. Her house was located on the side of an old low traffic highway where the homes had large spaces and small patches of woods in between, still close enough together that you could see your neighbors but probably wouldn't cross paths with them the way you might in a regular suburban neighborhood. The road was dark with no street lights, so any light outside came exclusively from porch lights and nearby windows that this time of night. Caitlin looked at me, clearly surprised to hear the door at all, let alone this late at night. They didn't really know anyone nearby, and everyone that lived there always used the back door that led into the driveway instead of the front that opened directly into the yard. The knock came again, a little harder and more insistent. What if it was the cops or something? I was the oldest, so I straightened up a little, saying, I'll get it in the most confident voice I could manage. Kaitlin followed me to the door, trailing a little behind. I hesitated for a moment before turning the deadbolt, then cautiously turned the handle to open the big wooden door wide enough to peer through the gap and through the screen door on the other side. Hey, I'm trying to get a hold of my friend to come pick me up, but my phone died. It's really hot out here. Could I maybe trouble you for some water or something? Asked the boy standing on my sister's porch. He was about 18 or 19 from the look of him. He had a tall but slender build and shaggy light blonde hair that hung into light blue eyes a little as he talked. He was wearing a black T shirt and jeans and had clearly been sweating a bit from the the July heat that still hung heavy long after the sun had gone down. I paused, glancing behind me at Caitlin. She nodded and headed back to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for the guy while I stayed at the door. My anxiety about this guy was slowly fading, but enough held out that I decided to stay in my current position instead of opening the door anymore. So where are you coming from? I asked, making small talk as I listened to the sounds of Kaitlin running the tap in the next room. The boy jabbed a thumb behind him down the highway leading to a town as he explained that way. My friend is supposed to pick me up, but I decided to just start walking that direction until he comes along. I nodded, feeling Caitlin's presence come back behind me as she approached with a glass of water for the stranger. She flipped the latch on the screen door and held the water out, this time leaving the screen door unlatched as it slowly creaked closed behind her retreating hand. The boy took the glass and gulped the water down quickly, wiping his mouth off on his arm. As he took the cup down from his mouth, I noticed his face was covered in acne scars. Do you think I could use your phone? He asked next, offering a sheepish smile. Sure, kaitlin piped up before I could answer. I'll go get it. Can I just come in? The boy asked. Something nagged at me as I watched him shuffle a few inches closer to the screen door and start to pull it back. Instinctively, I slid my right foot up the next to the bottom edge of the front door where I was still holding it partially closed. I leaned back to allow the door to obscure my face from the boys as I looked at Caitlin, shaking my head as I whispered, I don't think we should let him in. She gave me an annoyed look, as though not understanding why I took issue with allowing a teenage boy inside. It was exciting and new and I was clearly ruining the only interesting thing to happen to us so far. I raised my eyebrows in a silent plea and she turned back to the door to address the boy. We can't let you in. Sorry, she said, genuinely meaning it. Why not? Are your parents home or something? The boy asked. He didn't sound like the thought made him nervous, and the itchy feeling that had begun to creep through my body grew more persistent. Yeah, my dad is downstairs, I said a little too quickly. I saw a spark hit his eyes as soon as the words left my mouth. He recognized the anxiety in my voice and I watched the shift in his expression as he saw through my lie. I'll be quick, he insisted. I really, really need to get a hold of my friend to find out where he is. He should have been here by now, he went on, giving the highway a cursory glance as though he was looking out for his friend's car. I saw him linger on the empty driveway as his eyes came back around to us. But what if he misses you while you're inside? I asked, trying to keep my tone cheerful and conversational. I wedged my foot a little harder into the the door as I spoke. Seriously, my dad will kill us if we let you in. A slow smile began to spread across his scarred face. The boy took a slow step forward, silently closing the gap between the screen door and the crack that I had left open. We were now only a few inches apart, the threshold of the door the only thing left between us. I slid slid my free arm behind the door, gripping the opposite side of the door frame to brace myself against it. I cursed myself for not sliding the chain lock across the door before opening it. If I did it now, it might upset him, I thought. He stared me down for a second, the smile never leaving his face. He turned to Kaitlin, softening his tone as he said, please, I'll be super, super quick. The sound of a door opening behind Kaitlin and I made us both jump. My dad came through the back door with a puff of his last bit of cigarette smoke trailing in behind him. What are you girls doing? He asked roughly. I snapped my head back to the boy at the door with wide eyes. It's my dad, I whispered. Hang on a second. I took advantage of his supply, surprised, to quickly shut the door in his face. Dad, there's a guy at the door. He wants to come in and use the phone, I told him. He's a teenager, Grandpa. Like our age. I think I know him from school, kaitlin added. My dad's expression darkened as he walked to the door and opened it halfway to confront the boy. What seems to be the problem? My dad asked the stranger. I saw the boy shift uncomfortably as he told my dad the situation about his friend picking him up. Well, you better get out there so he doesn't miss you, my dad replied. They were just giving me water, man. Relax, the boy challenged. It's hot out here, you know. I'm gonna give you five seconds to get off my porch before I call the cops. My dad growled, a sudden anger apparent in his his voice as he snatched the water glass back from the boy at the door. Caitlin and I looked at each other, confused. He sounded really mad. All of a sudden we both began to get nervous, thinking we'd be in trouble for opening the door. I watched through a gap between my dad's body in the door frame as the boy composed himself, gave him a menacing smile and slowly backed off the porch, disappearing as he walked back out into the dark yard toward the road. Without another word, my dad slammed the door shut and chain locked it, whirling around to face us. What is the matter with you two? Why would you open the door to a stranger like that when no one's home? How stupid can you be? He yelled angrily. Grandpa, what's the big deal? I told you, I know him from school. Why would you yell at him like that? Kaitlin whined. My dad sighed and sat down at the table. He looked back and forth between us as he gathered himself, calming his voice back down to a normal level while he shakily explained. Girls, he began, I'd be willing to bet you money that there was never any friend coming to get that guy. There's a place a ways down the road where bad people go. It's like a mental health place, but for criminals. He was probably from there. Why would you assume that? Kaitlin asked, clearly upset at the insinuation. I told you, I know him from school. Maybe you do, my dad replied, but there was something off about that kid. He softened his voice as he went on. Didn't, you know, notice he wasn't wearing any shoes? He had hospital socks on. This happened around six years ago when I was 15. We were living in a small town in the middle mountains of Northern California where my mom grew up and where her family still lives today. My younger cousins, I'll call them Drew and Robbie for the sake of their privacy, were spending the day with us and my mom decided to take us to see the Nut Job too in theaters. Drew and I, being several years older than Robbie, weren't totally crazy about seeing a kids movie, but the buttered popcorn was enough to keep us happy. The movie ended around dinner time and my mom offered to get fast food since we were already in town and my aunt was due to pick up my cousins an hour later, Robbie asked to go to Burger King, which wasn't my favorite. The food was alright, but I've always gotten an uncomfortable vibe from that place. The part of town where the restaurant was located was full of sketchy strip malls that bordered the freeway and it wasn't unusual to find all kinds of colorful characters walking the streets late in the day. Also, that particular Burger King, the only one in our entire town, seemed to be a magnet for strange activity. I remember watching a drunken fist fight on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant one night when I was about 6. So after everyone else in the car reluctantly agreed to go to Burger King, off we went. When we arrived a few minutes later later, my mom was preparing to turn into the drive thru when a man heading in our direction crossed the sidewalk in front of the driveway. Looking back, there wasn't anything about this guy that seemed unusual or set off any alarm bells. He was average height, but a little on the heavy side. He had dark curly hair covered by a baseball cap and was wearing a tight fitting white T shirt and dark jeans or sweatpants. Naturally, my mom stopped the car and waited for him to cross the street. When he made it safely to the other side and my mom began to pull in, the man suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. As we made the sharp turn into the small Parking lot this guy turned his whole body around to face us and kept his eyes fixed on my side of the car. The most unnerving part about it, the part that I can still see so vividly in my mind, was his eyes. They were wide open, unnaturally open. I swear it looked like something from the torture scene and A Clockwork Orange. Look it up and you'll see what I mean. I have never seen a person open their eyes so wide in my entire life. And like watching a car wreck, I couldn't manage to look away. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or my cousins in the backseat, but at that point, I was too creeped out to care. Luckily, I wasn't the only one who noticed. My mom didn't seem especially bothered and said something to the effect of, relax, dude, I'm not gonna run you over. As we passed by him. My cousin Drew, on the other hand, leaned over the back seat to catch another glimpse of the man. Did you see his eyes? He asked. Robbie, also curious, tried to turn around and stand up in his booster seat to see the man again. My mom seemed unbothered, but Drew and I were so put off by this guy that we couldn't let it go. The two of us turned around to look out the back window one more time and check if the man was still watching us. Sure enough, he was still standing in the same spot and staring at our car with his enormous eyes. I don't think he even blinked the whole time. At this point, my fight or flight mode was starting to kick in and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there. But then the man did something that sent my heart rocketing up into my throat. He started walking toward us very slowly, still staring dead at us. I really think he made a beeline for our car because the sidewalk on that side of the restaurant curved around behind a small real estate building that was hidden behind cypress trees, and I remember seeing this guy very clearly coming straight for us. I jerked my mom's arm and started pointing frantically out the back window. Mom, that guy's following us. My mom turned around in disbelief and I can only assume that seeing the man and Drew's worried expression finally made her realize what was going on. Alright, screw this, my mother said as she took the car out of park and followed the drive through around the backside of the building where the pickup windows were. I felt myself begin to relax a bit and I was incredibly thorough, thankful to be leaving the creepy man in the dust. Or so I thought. We turned the corner and to my absolute horror, the old beat up blue pickup truck was stopped at the window in front of us. The drive thru lane wasn't wide enough for two cars to pass through, so we were forced to sit there and wait until the truck either moved or the man suddenly reappeared from behind the blind corner less than 20ft away. My mom flipped the door locks and unbuckled her seatbelt, then began digging around in her purse. I knew what she was looking for. She and I had recently bought cans of pepper spray at my father's insistence in case of an emergency. I began to dig around for mine, but as luck would have, wasn't there. My family and I were big hikers and at a minimum I knew we usually kept a pocket knife in the glove compartment. I pulled open the drawer, but it wasn't there. It finally dawned on me that the only thing that could stop this man from getting to us, if that was his intention, was a glass window. Now, this wasn't my proudest moment, but I kind of started having a freakout. Anyone who has ever felt truly scared or endangered knows the feeling of adrenaline rushing through their veins. Sometimes that fear gets the better of you and you can't stop the emotions from spilling out. As I looked between the blue truck still parked in front of us and the back window of the car, I just remember saying softly, I'm so scared. It wasn't panicked or tearful, it was just like my mouth said the first thing my brain was thinking. My mother whipped around and very angrily told me, lily, stop it. You're scaring Robbie. I'll admit that looking back, I was angry at her for saying that. I know she wanted me to keep a cool head, which is what you should do in situations like this. But it felt like she was telling me I wasn't allowed to feel scared. Besides, I wasn't the only one losing control of myself himself. Drew reached over, unbuckled Robbie's seatbelt, pulled him to his chest, and held onto him tightly to protect him. That should have been more fear inducing than what I said, but Robbie actually seemed more curious than scared. I was glad that he was young enough to not know exactly what was happening. All in all, he handled it better than us teenagers. It honestly felt like hours just waiting. Waiting for that stupid truck in front of us to move. I started getting really angry, even though I knew it wasn't the driver's fault. But it was a horrible time for the people inside the restaurant to be moving so slowly. Just then my worst fear was realized. The man appeared from around the side of the building. I felt completely hopeless, and I was expecting him to run over and start trying to break into the car at any second, but that didn't happen. That was when I noticed he wasn't staring at us anymore. He was just shuffling very slowly along the sidewalk, looking straight ahead. As the four of us watched him go in tense silence, I started to feel confused. Why wasn't he staring at us anymore? Just minutes before, he was giving us the most unsettling look I had ever seen on a human face, and it looked like he was coming straight for us. What changed? I was starting to think that I had gone crazy. What if I was wrong after all? What if the whole thing was just one big misunderstanding on my part? But as the man climbed the hill to the right of the car, Drew suddenly said, aunt Janet, he's talking to himself. Sure enough, as I looked closer, I could see the man's lips moving as he stared fixedly into the distance. With the car windows closed, I couldn't hear what he was saying. Frankly, I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of there. When the truck in front of us finally pulled forward, my mom hit the the gas and drove out of there as quickly as possible. The four of us breathed a sigh of relief as we settled back into our seats and headed to a different restaurant across town. As you can imagine, the weird encounter was the only thing we could talk about for the rest of the night. When my aunt arrived to pick up my cousins, we told her the story. I was surprised but also grateful that she wasn't upset. Instead. Instead, she suggested that the guy was probably on something or had some type of mental disability. Her explanation seemed likely enough, and after about a week, I passed off the incident as just that, just another unhinged tweaker ruining our once safe, amicable small town. I had mostly put the issue to the back of my mind until a few weeks later when my mom brought it up again. One afternoon as we were talking in the living room, she started telling me that she read an article online about a woman and her family who were possibly followed by traffickers in Oakland. I don't remember the whole story, but to summarize, the woman, her husband, and their infant daughter were leaving a football game in Oakland when a man started following them. The woman noticed that the man was talking to himself, and she saw that he was wearing an earpiece. As they got to the car, her husband went to confront the man while she and her child got safely inside and locked the doors. A car that had been idling nearby suddenly pulled up. The man hopped inside and it tore away. The article warned that human traffickers will sometimes sleep, select vulnerable targets like women going places with their children, and communicate with a waiting vehicle nearby through an earpiece. Once in position, the men in the car will jump out and snatch the woman, her child, or both, and they will likely never be seen again. My mom suggested that maybe the man was wearing an earpiece. And by the way, he was looking at us, following the car car and talking to himself, he could have been talking to someone in a car waiting nearby. After all, he was wearing a baseball cap and his hair covered his ears. There was no way to tell if he was wearing one. Now, I never heard of any instances of human trafficking in my hometown, so I brushed it off as a wild theory. But the mere suggestion was enough to keep the memory of the incident from leaving my mind. To this day, I still have no idea what the man's true intentions were. I only remember the gut wrenching feeling I got when he stared at us with those unnaturally large eyes. Was the guy just another addict? Was he, in fact secretly communicating with someone waiting nearby? Was he just angry because he thought we were going to hit him with our car? I just can't seem to explain it, no matter how hard I try, and I know that I'll never get an answer. However, if the man was truly following us, I shudder to think about what could have happened if we had stopped at the menu board or had gotten out of the car and gone into the restaurant. Either way, the incident has taught me to always be aware of my surroundings, trust my instincts, try to keep calm when I feel in danger, and never go anywhere alone without my pocket knife and pepper spray. Your burger is served and this is our finest Pepsi Zero sugar. Its sweet profile perfectly balances the savory notes of your burger.