← Scary Stories and Rain
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Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Real quick. Before we begin, I just want to remind you that if you want to subscribe to this podcast for just 2.99amonth.
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You'Ll get rid of all of the.
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Ads across every single episode and you'll be automatically entered to win all of my giveaways that I do every month. Right now we have a PlayStation 5 on the line, so if you want to be entered to win, subscribe for just 2.99amonth, get rid of all of the ads and you'll also be supporting the podcast, which is highly appreciated. And last thing before we begin, I just want to say thank you so much for being here and I really.
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Hope you enjoy this episode.
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Favorites and participate at McDonald's for a limited time. So this happened about three years ago when I was a sophomore in college. I had just moved into my very first apartment with my best friend Ron. On par with most first apartments, it was the cheapest four walls and a roof that we could afford. With that being said, we were witness to a lot of questionable activities as our complex was home to a fair amount of eccentric people. Yet the freedom of having your very own place is exhilarating and acted as a sort of counterbalance to the shenanigans that were commonplace and in our new community. In any case, we made sure to be vigilant and keep our doors locked. Well, most of the time. It was a Monday, around two in the afternoon and I was just getting back from my morning string of classes. Ron dabbles in gamer culture and would usually be going to bed when I got up around 9am so he was dead asleep. I was in sort of a rush as I had to finish up a paper for my 4pm class, so I went swiftly to my room. I pulled out my laptop, plugged in my headphones and began to type away. After about 30 minutes of typing ABBA blaring in my ears, I noticed my door begin to open. The movement was lethargic and cautious, yet it stopped abruptly after the door had been opened about an inch wide. More specifically, after I took notice, unable to see anything through the open sliver, I became inquisitive. Assuming it's wrong, I call out, what? No response? What do you want? No response, bro. What the hell do you want? The door remained cracked as I demanded answers until my annoyance became clear and my tone began to change. Then it methodically closed and as slowly as it was opened, so slow in fact, it almost didn't latch. Still, under the assumption it was Ron, I began to get even more annoyed. Ron and I have a colorful relationship, so we frequently yell or swear at each other. Bro, seriously, what the hell do you want? I'm trying to write a paper. Ron. Ron, stop messing with me bro, and just tell me what you want. After about the third yell, something makes my heart sink to my stomach. Bells begin to ring in my head and my gut is convinced something is wrong. It wasn't like Ron to mess with me like that, and even if he did decide to break habit, he would have come back and done the it's just a prank bro routine Long before I started yelling. I sprung up from my bed, heart racing, blood pumping, adrenaline flowing, I reach under my pillow and grasp the cold metal sheath of the M7 bayonet that my dad had bought me some years ago. I take the blade out and begin to move toward the door, cautiously calling out to Ron one last time just to make sure my paranoia isn't getting the best of me. Alright, Ron, did you need something? Greeted with silence yet again, I take that as my cue to exit the room. I grasp the doorknob and begin to twist ever so slowly, my stomach twisting right alongside it. With a distinctive click, the door unlatches and I begin to tenderly Open it. As soon as there's enough room, I peer my head out into the hallway. Nothing. I finally step out and as my body crosses the threshold from room to hallway, my adrenaline spikes. Knife in hand, I make my way to the living room. With a simultaneous sense of cautiousness and urgency, I make the 15 foot journey to the living room and do a scan of the area. Nothing. Upon seeing the empty, quiet living room, my body immediately relaxes. My grip on the handle of the bayonet loosens, allowing my knuckles to go from a ghostly white back to their normal pink fleshy color. However, my moment of relief was short lived as something dawned on me. The living room was empty. As in devoid of human presence. I turn back to the hallway and sprint to Ron's door. Unafraid to forego common courtesy, I barge right in. As the door swings open and I take my first steps inside, I am once again met with a gut wrenching feeling and a modest spike of adrenaline. Ron was dead asleep. With a mix of yelling and shaking, I finally wake him up. A very groggy and pissed off Ron mumbles what? Over my franticness. Already knowing the answer, I ask one question out of denial and hope. Did you open my door a couple minutes ago? No. What? As the sound of the most hated word in the English language fell upon my ears, I was already halfway out of Ron's room. As I re entered the living room, I gave things a second look. Upon further inspection, I noticed the absence of my Xbox, my roommate's PS4 and my roommate's backpack filled with expensive college textbooks and his laptop. I sprint out the front door and up the stairs to the outside of my complex, desperately trying to see someone carrying a backpack and or our game consoles. I run the perimeter and find nothing. Defeated, I make my way back to the apartment and find Ron standing in the living room. Still groggy and very much confused. I explain the situation we now found ourselves in. We called the cops, which took our statements and nothing more. The interactions we had with the PD is another long story. But to sum them up, the person who opened my door that day was never arrested. This is in spite of the fact it is considered felony home invasion since Ron and I were both home and my father and I literally figured out who did it. So unless it's to give me back my Xbox or Ron his PS4 and backpack, I really hope I never come into contact with this person again. Now, I am not very good at reading people, unlike my landlord. When I first met Karim, he seemed polite enough. He was super tidy, filled the house with amazing smelling cooking and best of all he stayed out of my way. I am kind of a loner and stayed holed up in my room with the company of my gerbils to quietly study and play Minecraft. We didn't cross paths often. When the school year started in September, he was the replacement for my housemate. It's a three bedroom apartment and I had been living with another girl, Nelly for a year already. She was pretty absent from the house as she was almost always at her boyfriend's place place and the third housemate had moved out early on. He was honest about some elements of his past that I should have taken as a warning but took as him being earnest. I had asked him during his mini interviewing process that Nelly and I were holding for potential tenants if he was 420 friendly. He was, but as it turned out he was a little too friendly. A couple years ago he had been arrested for illegal possession of weed and sent back to his home country Turkey for a year before being allowed back into Canada to continue his studies. I don't know how this kind of stuff works to be honest, but that's what he told us. I try not to be a judgmental person since he made it seem like it was a thing of the past, this was not the case. One of the first things I had noticed in September was was that he smoked almost constantly. Not to the point of missing classes, but the whole house would stink up multiple times a week in the evening. Normally I wouldn't mind a little smoke, but any stoner will tell you that each strain is different and for whatever reason his weed caused really severe panic attacks for me. Around late October I got sick of it and told him to figure out how to contain it to his room and he said the joints are hard to contain and that he needs a bong. I let him borrow my bong about two weeks later in November, Karim said that he had broken the downstem but that he would replace it within a few days. He did replace it, but it was the wrong size. Maybe it was a bit bitchy of me, but I told him to buy the right size. He refused, said it was too expensive. I don't know, it's my property, he broke it, he should fix it appropriately, right? What I know was not out of line however was what I did after what happened in mid February. After January, my landlord said we should start looking for new housemates, which was reasonable enough. Not to Karim though. My landlord has always been slow at responding to messages due to the nature of her job, but he absolutely hated her guts for it, called her a bitch and every name under the sun behind her back. Which made me feel weird considering I had been her tenant for three years now and we were on good terms.
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Savor responsibly Before I move on to the next part, I'd like to quickly add that at one point during the housemate hunting process, he asked me if I would be willing to move out so that his friends could move in and that it would be super amazing if I did. Obviously, I said no. My landlord later confirmed that he had asked her if he could sign the lease behind my back. As I mentioned earlier, we have forged a good rapport over the last few years, so it was a firm no. Karim got excessively antagonistic about my landlord's deadline when she wanted us to sign the lease, started looking up the law saying he legally didn't need to give her notice until X date, which was not true. He told me to quietly look for housemates and tell the landlord at the last possible date, which made me super uncomfortable since it was around midterms and was secretly grateful she was pushing for the deadline so strongly. I just wanted it over with. It was shortly before I signed the lease with my new housemates that he showed how truly two faced he he was. I dug through our Facebook messages. The gist of the conversation was this. Karim said, can I use your laundry after I move out? I don't have laundry on site. I responded no, that's kinda weird. Karim said, no, it's not. We'll pay you. I responded, we? Karim said, me and my housemates. I would like to note I never met these housemates before and still have no idea who they are. At this point I started getting extremely weirded out. I said no a few times, but caved and started saying stuff like I'll think about it to appease him. Though I had zero intent on letting him use my stuff, it seemed like the best way to get him off my back since for almost a week he would continuously pressure me and try to get me to say yes. Things hit the first of two crescendos when the day before we, me and the two new tenants I chose super awesome guys by the way, were supposed to sign the new lease back to Facebook and again, an approximation of our conversation goes like this. Kareem says, if you don't promise to let me use your laundry next year, I'm going to make a scene in front of your housemates. I responded a scene. Karim said, when they come sign the lease with her, I am going to tell them how awful our landlord is, that she doesn't care about us and is terrible at replying to our messages. If you let me use your laundry, I'll wait until they leave to tell her to her face. In other words, he was going to make my new housemates clean, question my judgment and make them think I was a bad person or something. Why else would he go off in front of them and my landlord and tell them she was a horrible and nasty person? He later claimed these messages were a joke to which I messaged back asking where the punchline was because I didn't see it. I felt like a badass saying that. Not gonna lie. Especially since he never got around to explaining this Supposed to joke at this point I had a bit of a breakdown. I called my landlord that night when Karim had left the house for a few hours, letting her know exactly what had happened, what he was planning to do the next day, even sending her screenshots of our Facebook messages and telling her I couldn't let her and my new housemates come over in good conscience. Call me a snitch, I don't care. This guy does martial arts three times a week and despite being shorter than me, could definitely send me through drywall if he felt like it. I felt threatened and didn't know what he would do if he found out. I told her and was the reason signing the lease was rescheduled to a different time and location. She believed me, especially when she read all the text messages. Full context, nothing conveniently cropped. She even saw the parts where I was playing along and calling her a bitch too. That's when she told me that she had seen straight through his act while he was signing the lease. Apparently he spent half an hour reading and re reading our lease, which is abnormal. Asking weird questions, being rude to her. After years of being a landlord, she could clearly see that he's the type of overly macho guy that likes to control women, but gave me the benefit of the doubt. Not to get political, but even as an anti feminist I am inclined to agree, especially looking in hindsight at how he's treated the women, me, the landlord, Nelly versus men in our lives. After losing all four years of my free time in high school to the feminist movement, you would think I would be able to spot someone as blatantly misogynistic as him, but apparently not. Turns out this special brand of douchebag isn't a boogeyman after all. At least now I know one when I see one. I signed the lease with my new housemates the next day at a coffee shop, telling Kareem that it was out of the blue that we were signing elsewhere and I had no idea why we changed plans and I thought that I had gotten away with telling on him until my landlord sent him a letter from her lawyer that very clearly stated that he would not be allowed to demand the use of laundry again and that if he came back to the house after moving out it would be considered trespassing. At first I thought it was an overreaction on her part, but looking back on those messages, I can see why she made that decision. He angrily knocked on my door and shoved the letter in my hands when he got it that day, aggressively and quite frankly melodramatically saying, you betrayed me, I bullcrap you not. Those were his exact words. I think he lost his grip on me since he could no longer pressure me now that the secret was out, which frustrated him. Anyone who has been treated poorly by a misogynist or a misandrist can probably relate to that particular type of control and how it feels to wiggle out of it. Things settled down temporarily. He retaliated in small ways, going out of his way to not sort the recycling in proper bins, not cleaning out the shower drain, putting plastic and metal in the compost bin, and smoking weed excessively. They were small but irritated me. It was the day after he moved out that we reached our second and final crescendo, which led to the police report. After months of stuffing a shirt under the crack of my door to keep the weed stink out and generally being freaked out to the point of carrying a small kitchen knife in my pocket whenever I left my room after the laundry incident, you can bet your ass I was counting down those last days gleefully. He said he left a few things behind from the kitchen. He came along with a friend and tensely but amicably we sorted out whose Tupperware was whose on his way out he spotted my mop and bucket. He claimed it was his and that he wanted it back. I had had this mop and bucket for two years. Why the hell was he claiming it was his? I said no and he started roaming around the house saying that he wanted his mop and bucket and that if this was mine, his must be elsewhere, which made me uncomfortable as hell. I defused the situation by saying I wanted to use it and would give it back later. I was planning on keeping it. I am under zero obligation to let him back in. Remember the letter that said him coming back in the house after he moves out is trespassing.
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He instantly snapped out of it. Later that day he even said I could keep it. Why he changed his mind is beyond me. The next day, Karim said that he had left two more items behind. I was irritated. At this point I just wanted to be left alone. I said I would leave it outside. I admit I definitely shouldn't have done what I did next. I was annoying and I cringe when I read my own messages. But his reaction was cool. Completely out of proportion. Karim said, I'll stop by in a few hours. I just got out of the shower. I responded, I'm busy. Can't you come by now? Just throw on some shoes and shorts and a T shirt. Nobody's outside by the way. At this point my town has been in COVID 19 lockdown for two months since it's a university town and I live in an area area almost exclusively populated by students. Nearly everyone was gone and it's been a ghost town for weeks. I should also note he had not been taking good social distancing measures whenever he was over and had zero problem getting up close even though he had recently been to a much bigger city with a bad outbreak. Just thought that I would point that out. Karim responds, fine, then give me my mop and bucket. I respond, you said I could have it. Karim says, give it back. I respond, no. I put the two items, a tray and mug on the porch. A few minutes later I heard A polite knock. I knew it was him and ignored it. A few seconds later, a ring on the doorbell. Another ring, A louder knock. He kept ringing the doorbell over and over. Exasperated, I opened it and he stood there smiling. Give me my mop and bucket. No. I quickly shut the door. Truth be told, I was worried he would try and stick his foot in the door and try and stop me from closing it. But he didn't move. He started knocking again and ringing the doorbell repeatedly. At first it was with some time in between, a few seconds, but it grew in frequency and volume. It went from firm knocking to louder, angry knocking. It felt like I was running a marathon. My heart was beating so fast since he started straight up pounding on the door so hard I could see it move. Literally screaming give me my things. Over and over at the top of his lungs. After about two or three minutes of him being aggressive in doing this, I can assure you it felt like hours. He stopped and I heard this weird metallic scraping sound, like metal on concrete, accompanied by a grunt, followed by a loud metallic. Metallic clang. Silence. I waited for a while. I stealthily looked through windows and didn't see him. I opened the door and to my surprise, saw that he had pulled my mailbox off the wall and thrown it onto the path leading to the sidewalk. I kicked myself for not filming the incident, but took my sweet time taking the perfect picture to show that he had made some kind of a attempt to destroy the property. I mean, not that it can do much. It felt like the right thing to do nonetheless, and I still have it. I ended up putting the mop and bucket outside and telling Karim to come get it and that I just wanted him to leave me alone. I even took out the battery of our door code since a part of me is paranoid that he'll try to guess it and break in. He came by and took it and I watched him leave from the window. He hasn't contacted me since I saw him on the street the other day and he gave me a warm smile as if we were friends. But I looked away and crossed to the other side to avoid him. I filed a police report of the incident the same day as advised by my landlord. She told me during our phone call that he had a documented history of aggression and I am not sure, shocked. I am surprised she gave me the benefit of the doubt though, and let him sign the lease in the first place. I guess this was a learning experience for all of us. When I asked her of her honest opinion of my new housemates, she said they were trustworthy. Plus it turns out the guys and I have a mutual buddy so I am not scared of them. I told them about the whole incident and they blocked him on facebook. They were super supportive and glad that I filed the report. They know who he is and won't let him inside. The thing that freaks me out a little is that he moved down the street. I can see his new unit from my window. So this happened to me two years ago when I was 18. I need to set up the scenery of my house so that the location makes sense. I live in an upper middle class neighborhood that resides in the middle of a golf course. The course wraps around the intertwines of the neighborhood. I live in one of the most remote locations of this neighborhood where we have no access to the main roadway. Furthermore, our house is a two story on about one acre. On the first floor is the kitchen, bedroom, office and living room with a couple of bathrooms. The second floor is just a couple of bedrooms along with bathrooms and a room we use for social gatherings. Along the back of the house we also have a deck with metal and wicker furniture now that the setting is out of the way. It was on a rare Saturday that I had gotten off of work and I wanted the day to relax and not go anywhere or do anything. My parents knew I never really got days off, let alone a weekend off, so they were okay with letting me stay home alone when they went out of town for the day. They decided that day they were going out of town to shop at a nearby mall and wouldn't be home until late. Honestly, I don't remember where my brother was. It was a pretty normal day by itself. A lot of nothingness was accomplished until it got dark. I decided to come out of my room and watch TV in the living room since my new dog wasn't accustomed to stairs yet and would hardly walk up them. So sitting on the couch I noticed my pup growling and the hair on the back of her neck standing up. For clarification at this point it's around 11pm and I cannot see outside at all. I try to calm my dog down but she's getting really hyper. I am getting anxious now too because something is really upsetting her. So I walk upstairs and pick up my BB gun I have in my room. I figure if someone is out there I just have to stand inside with it and they'll think it's real. Well, after coming down with the BB gun, I take a step over the baby gate. We have to keep our pup from peeing on the carpet and I hear tapping. Someone or something is tapping on the glass window next to where I was sitting and my dog had hidden behind my legs. I lifted the BB gun acting like I was going to shoot. When I saw through the window a figure jump over and off the deck railing. I quickly called my parents. Yeah, I know I should have called the police, but I wasn't thinking. Around midnight they got home and turned on the deck lights. We instantly noticed that one of the metal chairs was pulled very far out of place and positioned to look inside the house where I was sitting before. We never did call the police about the incident, but when I was coming home from work about a week later, I pulled into the driveway around 10pm where my headlights lit up a person hiding behind a tree. Tree. This was a full grown adult wearing a long black coat in the middle of June. We did eventually call the police about that, but I have an inkling that it was the same guy. I was a high school student living with my mother in a third floor apartment. I used to sleep in the living room. Because the apartment had only one bedroom and it was my mom's. I was happy with that little space I had. I was a happy kid. I always got up at 6am to go to school and my mom always got up at 5am to have time to shower and make breakfast before dropping me at school and heading to work. That morning I woke up and the lights were all on. Every single one of them. Even the one in my room. I went to grab my phone and it wasn't there. Odd. I headed to the bathroom and saw all the drawers and doors of every furniture we had were open. I was deeply confused. My mom came out of the bathroom and asked me what the hell I had been doing. I told her I didn't know what she was talking about and that I thought she did that since she is always up to one hour earlier than me. I also asked if she had seen my cell phone. Then I saw it. Deep inside her green eyes. The realization. I could see the fear in all the pieces inside her head clicking in place. She leaped to the kitchen and found the window wide open, a kitchen knife on the ground and some dusty fingerprints on the wall where someone put weight on to climb inside. It was then when my sleepy head put the pieces together too. Someone somehow climbed all the way up to our balcony, got inside the apartment and robbed us all. While I was asleep in my bed right there in the living room, she hugged me and asked me if I was okay. I said I never heard anything, didn't even wake up when this unknown person turned the lights on and rummaged through our stuff. It was super weird. I have the lightest sleep since I have memory and I still do many years later. They didn't dare to open my mom's bedroom door so she didn't notice a thing. My grandma says that some angel protected me in my sleep and that's why I didn't wake up. But I don't believe in that stuff. I don't think they knew I was there either either. Police never found the robber and we put steel bars on the window. We moved anyway sometime after that. This happened when I was still in high school. At least six years have passed. My mother and I moved from that apartment and now I am grown and living with my boyfriend. But to this day I am still paranoid and keep thinking why I didn't wake up. Though I am honestly grateful that I didn't.
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Healthcare nurse Crystal checked in on a patient.
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We do a routine call after surgery and I could tell in her voice that she was struggling.
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Crystal knew she needed help.
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I knew that this is very serious. This is like septic, this is life.
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Threatening and she knew just what to.
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It it's it it's it's it's it's it's.