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- [00:01]
Narrator/Host
This episode is brought to you by Prime Obsession is in session and this summer, Prime Originals have everything you want. Steamy romances, irresistible love stories, and the book to screen favorites you've already read twice off campus Elle every year. After the Love Hypothesis, Sterling Point and more, slow burns, second chances, chemistry you can feel through the screen. Your next obsession is waiting. Watch only on Prime Expedia and visit Scotland. Invite you to come experience the beauty that awaits in Scotland, the sweep of wild coastlines, quiet lochs and untamed landscapes, fresh cuisine that feels rooted in the land. Come experience the kind of stillness that stays with you long after you leave. Plan your Scottish escape today@expedia.com VisitScotland so
- [01:01]
Storyteller/Guest
good, so good, so good.
- [01:03]
Narrator/Host
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- [01:27]
Storyteller/Guest
Hey, before this episode begins, I just want to let everyone know that my film that I've been producing for the last two years, Gale Yellow Brick Road, is now streaming on Chilling. So if you weren't able to go see it in theaters a couple months ago, no worries. Click the link in the description to this video or just search Chilling in your app store and you can watch Gale Yellow Brick Road tonight at home. I really hope you enjoy. Please leave an honest rating and review on IMDb and Rotten Tomatoes. Thanks again. Hey, welcome back to the podcast. I really hope you enjoy this episode. And if you'd like to hear more stories like these with a different background sound, please check the description to check out my other two podcasts. And if you want to get rid of all of the ads, you can subscribe for just 2.99amonth. Last thing I really appreciate you being here and I'd really love if you would follow the podcast and come back again soon. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy. I am 23 and I'm currently living alone. Sleep paralysis and night terrors are so common for me to the point that I can recognize them instantly and break free from them on my own. But a few nights ago I experienced something very different. A few nights ago I awoke in the middle of the night. I reached for my phone and saw that it was roughly 4am I am a light sleeper, so waking up randomly like this has always been an annoying yet common occurrence. I sighed. My alarm would go off in two hours. I should try to fall back asleep, I thought. I kept telling myself to stop trying so hard. Let the sleep come to you. I even attempted meditation. But the more I did, the more I began to feel my brain inevitably waking up uncontrollably, racing through all the tasks that I needed to get done the next day. I accepted this fact and decided I should at least rest my eyes. I curled up on my side on one half of my queen sized bed facing the edge of the bed. All of a sudden, clear as day. I felt my mattress sank behind me like someone sat down on my bed. My eyes shot open. I froze, confused and terrified. I felt that sinking spot in the mattress shifted and heard the sheets shuffled as the person was dragging themselves across my bed behind me. I lied very still and shut my eyes tight, trying to regulate my breathing and heartbeat. I told myself as long as I can convince them I am really asleep, they would leave me alone. I felt the person moving closer and closer to me until they touched my back. I did everything to hold in a gasp. I didn't dare open my eyes because I feared what I would come face to face with. I could almost picture a haunting face leaning over mine and I did not want to witness that. As if they've made sure I was really asleep they retrieved. I let out a sigh of relief, disguised as one of those grunts you make when you're sleeping. I could still feel them sitting on my bed behind me. I slowly opened my eyes, but I didn't move another muscle. Trying not to move my head and neck, I looked around the room with my very limited field of vision. It's not real. I thought I was just dreaming. I was sure because I knew if it was an actual intruder, I wouldn't have reacted the way I did. And I wouldn't have tried to pretend to sleep. I would most likely put up a fight, try to escape or scream for help. But why is that spot on my bed behind me still sunken in? I looked at the room again. From what I could see, my room looked exactly like the way it should. You know how when you recall a dream that you had which took place in your room, your room would always look a bit off in your dreams. Well, I was very sure that I was looking at my room with my own eyes, so it had to be real. It wasn't a dream. Then what was? All of a sudden I felt a light tug on my duvet. I flinched, gasped, and closed my eyes. But it was too late. The person began pulling my duvet violently once they realized I was awake. I screamed and kicked and cried as I mustered up all the strength within myself to keep the duvet over myself the entire time. I didn't dare turning around to see who it was or what it was. I just pulled, kicked and wailed in the same curled up position, keeping my eyes shut, snot and tears covering my face. For some reason I believed if I let the thing pull my duvet away and expose myself, I'd be a goner. Then, as suddenly as it all occurred, it all stopped. I opened my eyes again and saw that the sky was brightening up. I sat up and looked at my bed and around my room. I was fully covered by my duvet. There was no sign of a tug of war ever taking place. There was no snot or tears on my face. I was sweating and my heart was beating out of my chest. What was that? I was beyond baffled. Usually when I see my room in my dream, I'll remember how off it looked once I have woken up. But this time nothing about the room I just saw seconds ago looked off to me. I was sure I was looking at my room with my own eyes and the mattress sinking. It all felt so real. Perhaps my eyes were really open and looking at my room in reality, but my exhausted brain somehow slipped into that realm between dreamland and consciousness and created this juxtaposition of reality and imagination. But I am open to any other explanation. I made a best friend in high school named Ayla. Ayla and I make every get together chill this Memorial Day. Get up to an extra thousand dollars off select top brand appliances like LG plus Get free delivery at the Home Depot. Tackle pool towels and camp laundry with a large capacity washer and host in style with the fridge serving craft ice, mini craft ice, cubed ice and crushed ice. Shop Appliance Savings now through June 3rd at the Home Depot offer valid May 14th through June 3rd US only. Free delivery on appliance purchases of $998 or more. See Store online for details.
- [08:24]
Narrator/Host
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- [09:19]
Storyteller/Guest
I were super close and we are still friends today. I just wanted to introduce her as she is an essential character in this story. She was one year behind me in high school and when I graduated I decided to take a gap year before I went to college so that I could help her finish out and be there for her. Her mother regularly left her all by herself in a big empty house, so I invited her to spend the night at my house almost every other weekend. This story is one of those times. It was a Friday night and Ayla and I had made our usual plans that weekend for after she was finished with marching band. That evening around 9pm she texted me to come to the school to pick her up and when I arrived she got in the car. I remember she looked rather sad as opposed to her usually upbeat, silly self, so I asked what was wrong. Her mom had said she was not going to be home for another three weeks after she had promised she was coming home the next weekend. Obviously Ayla was very disappointed. I asked her what she would like to do and Ayla said she would really like to see her mother's best friend who lived about four streets away from my house. It was around 10pm at this point and I was a little bit hesitant to drop by unannounced because she may not even be home. Ayla did not have her phone number and I lived in a bad part of town but Ayla was so insistent so we drove to her house. This person was like an aunt to her. We arrived on her aunt Road about 10 minutes later and there was no place to park so I decided to park on some gravel at the side of the road on the corner so that I was not in the way of incoming traffic. The gravel section was around a block away from her aunt's house so we had to walk to get there. We began the short walk and I got this really uneasy feeling like something was not right about the place. Even though we lived in a bad neighborhood, you could usually hear cars driving by, people shouting and dogs barking. Even that late at night on this night you could hear none of those things. The street was dark and quiet save for a single light about 50ft from the entrance to our aunt's home. The house is one of those places that is a single story, has no front porch, so that the door is flat against the house and has a long sidewalk to the entrance. I told Aayla I felt really uneasy, and she chalked it up to me being jumpy as usual. Can you blame me with the neighborhood I lived in? I decided not to push it, and she was already feeling down. When we got to the door, Ayla knocked a few times and rang the doorbell. She knocked and rang several times for about 10 minutes, and I said that her aunt probably wasn't home if she didn't answer after the first set of knocks, Ayla sighed and decided I was probably right. So we started walking to the car. As we turned around, Ayla and I noticed a short figure wandering into the orange glow of the single streetlight 50ft away. He was what looked like to be a cross between a man and a child, about 4ft tall with a really muscular chest and arms, scrawny, but with scrawny pencil legs. He was very disproportionate. His head and features were obscured in a sort of blur other than his clothing, and neither of us could make out exactly how old he was. Walking is not a very good way of describing how he moved. He sort of swayed with his shoulders in big, slow, jerky and dramatic movements, letting his arms that were too long and muscular for his body flop beside him and pausing in between strides, he stopped beneath the light. We stood in shock for about 30 seconds, and it was not until I urged Ayla to hurry to the car that the short man started to run straight towards us. He was fast and his swaying, jerky movements became swift, feet flinging, arms that flung violently into the air as he ran, and Ayla and I screamed and took off as fast as we could go. I remember hearing the pounding of his feet behind us when I flung myself into the driver's seat, starting the ignition and locking all the doors. I was so scared I couldn't get myself to start driving away because my hands were shaking so badly. And Aayla shouted, he's gone. And he was vanished without a trace. I glanced out the rearview mirror, and where before he had been 10ft or less behind us, there was no longer a man. The street was quiet once again. That prompted me to move again, and I threw the car into drive and took off around the corner towards my house. We Got there, we just sat for a few minutes and then went inside and tried to figure out what just happened. At that time, we decided it was probably an addict and tried to forget about it as best we could. But it was by far one of the scariest things that's ever happened to us. Growing up around the age of 13 or 14, my best friend's house was always where I stayed. Spent years practically living in her little trailer for the entire summer. I remember one winter, the year was rough and we got around 6 inches of snow during winter break. Of course, I was determined to spend the time off of school at my friend's place and it wasn't surprising when I ended up stuck there for a few days due to the amount of ice and snow snow covering the roads. The cold weather made for a day of cozy hot chocolate, movies, crafting, and the most important thing, a wood burning furnace. Me and my friend had just finished up making some crafts and as such, night fell on the sky. So to set this story up, the trailer had around seven rooms, a bathroom, four bedrooms, a kitchen, and an extension they built into the back that served as the living room. The room faced the woods that stretched for miles, which I knew because we frequently found ourselves exploring it. The extension held a couch, the furnace, a TV and a stand, a chair, and two glass sliding doors that pulled out onto a small deck where her dad kept the logs and her cats sat delicately as they ate. Past the porch and out of view of the glass doors by just a little bit was her father's workshop where he often spent his days and nights, only coming inside to add another log to the flame. Me and my friend spent a lot of time in the room because her bedroom was small and the couch in the extension could fold into a full sized bed. We kept blankets inside the couch so when it rolled out, we could instantly get in bed and go to sleep. That freezing winter night, we passed out under many covers across from the burning wood stove. I found myself hazily awakened by the cold of the door opening as her father walked into the room illuminated by the light of the television, which my friend finds necessary to keep on to fall asleep. Not until he began walking across the floor did I realize that I was beginning to fall float. I could see my body laying on my side below me next to my friend. I knew that it was impossible to be awake because I could see myself asleep as I stopped at the ceiling above the television. I could smell the wood burning smell and see the sparks as her dad lay a few logs on the fire, the small bits of snow, boot prints melted on the carpet before he stopped to say goodnight to our sleeping figures, before sliding the door over to go back out into the shed for a night of work. I watched our still bodies lay and the fire crackle for what felt like an hour or so before my eyes shifted to movement. The sight of something slide into view of the glass doors from the side of the bed caught my gaze. The object could only be made out as a black mass, like a shadow. Despite the vivid colors of television, television light that danced across the glass, reflecting back, the figure was void of light. Somehow it looked like the spot sucked all the rays into the total darkness of a black hole that was only there in one spot, in one shape. It was a few minutes of complete silence and dead staring at this mass before a shape began to appear, a hand sliding into my line of sight and moving the handle to the sliding door. A slow, jerky movement turned the handle and a creak sounded across the walls as the door slid along the frame and cracked far enough open for the darkness to slide through. The familiar cold climate greeted me as my body below my eye shivered under the covers. The creature had to duck down and bend in order to fit into the glass door frame, which was well above the height of a person. Only as it moved past the reflecting glass did the mass begin to portray the figure of a man. The shape was similar to a human, still devoid of features, entirely black, and even the color in the room seemed to have been absorbed into the void of its body. The thing walked unsteadily, as if it was unable to control its body, like a man with slinky knees as feet. With each step, its length seemed to stretch and bend like it was unable to control the way it portioned out. It bended back and forth, closer and farther with each inch closer it stomped as the figure began to illuminate what appeared to be the dark shadow of a hat upon its head. Rocked back and forth, the figure abruptly stopped and vibrated as it straightened and reached the edge of the bed where I laid closest to the doors. His body stayed straight, but only the middle section bent so the top part of its frame was facing directly down. Face to face with my closed sleeping eyes, the dark hand jerkily pulled up and made a formed line above where the eyebrows would be if the face of the creature wasn't a black hole, as if it was held, helping shield the TV light to look at my features better. And just like that, it stayed for another hour. Perhaps I could see myself shaking below, and sweat reflected pools of light towards me. It was as if my subconscious knew that this mass inflicted pure terror and stillness and worry into my body, and yet I could do nothing but watch myself cold and shaking below. I had no hand to shake myself awake, to pinch myself from this nightmare. All I could do was stare and watch as this thing stared, not so much as breathed or move the bed frame in the slightest, just observing me silently in the night when my brain tried to wrap itself around, all I could possibly think of as to how something like this could exist. How was the this real? Then? Just as insanely and unrealistically as it had appeared, all of a sudden, the creature straightened and hurriedly stumbled toward the door. The frame moved, opened and closed as he slid sideways out of view of the porch door. A slam echoed outside as the workshop door opened, hitting the wall. The familiar boot steps walked onto the porch porch, stepping in the ghosts of where the creature's feet had stepped. The sound of the boots marched to the door. Inside, my friend's dad, unbothered, peered into the reflecting glass before sliding to open the door. Adding another log to the wood stove. He left the room after completing his task and headed toward his room to sleep for the rest of the night. I watched as this familiar scene calmed my sleeping face as the snow once again melted into boot prints on the floor, realizing that the thing had never left a mark in or on the carpet. I sat floating for hours as the daylight lit the room and the darkness faded before I slid back into my body below to wake. I sat up as my dream was vivid and before I said a word to my friend, who was stirred by my abruptness, said that she had a terrible dream a few nights back and she knew that I had seen it too. My friend spoke about a man who peered out of her closet and was gone when she went to check it out. I was baffled by this entire experience, but I have never had sleep paralysis like this before or after, and a mutual friend of ours had claimed to see the same man growing up in that house before we even mentioned our story while we were camping. I know it seems crazy, but I am convinced that the house, the extension, is built somewhere it shouldn't have been. The creature was not just a physical energy, it was full of dread and malice and it was looming off of it as it stood near me. I just knew know that it did not want me to be there. It's been many years since I've been back to that house and I don't talk to that friend as much anymore. I can only wonder if it ever came back. This was over a year or two ago. I'm young, living in Southern California in the San Diego area and live with my family, including my older sister. We'll call her Eliza. We had a cousin who we'll call Jerry, visiting us from out of country, and as he and my sister are particularly close due to them being closer in age, she took it upon herself to be his tour guide since he hadn't been to California since he was a small child. Eliza and Jerry are big fans of pop culture, particularly pop music. There was a fairly famous pop singer performing in Los Angeles, which is a bit of a ways away from where we live. Eliza was a particularly big fan and she actually bought tickets specifically for Jerry and her so they could go during the visit. At first I was a bit salty that I wasn't included in the invite since I am somewhat of a fan too, but whatever. Not wanting to miss out on a fun day trip, I decided to invite two of my close friends who we'll call Savannah and Eric, who were something of a couple at the time. I don't have my license, but both of them do. So that way, once Jerry and Eliza go to the show, we could still drive around and do whatever. My sister drove the five of us to Los Angeles, she and Jerry in the front with Savannah, Eric and me in the back. Despite being a casual fan of the artist they were going to see, Eliza and Jerry played the artist on repeat the entire time we drove. With traffic, it easily was a three hour trip. Mind you, the artist only had like three albums out at the time and one of them was very, very loud and a bit depressing. My friends and I tend to like softer, more rock type music, so you can assume we got tired of this pretty quickly. Not only that, but both Eliza and Jerry felt the need to screech the lyrics out the whole time, and unfortunately neither of them had the most pleasant voice. Once we got in Los Angeles around noon, we were all hungry and in need of a restroom. Being in Los Angeles, it's hard to find available clean restrooms to use whenever. I suspect it's due to the constant use of the homeless and thus many places aren't open to the public or available to use without purchasing something. So not only was the constant need to find restrooms a bit frustrating, but finding food we could all agree on was ultimately also adding to the stress. Jerry had never tried ramen before, since traditional Japanese food isn't easily found where he lives. So we did our best to accommodate him. However, Eliza is staunchly gluten free due to health problems and Savannah has a severe peanut allergy, which caused us to have a little trouble finding somewhere we could all eat. These aspects aren't necessarily necessarily key to this story, but I want to build up the chain of events that led to my mood and later actions. Jerry and Eliza were totally in their own world, likely getting pumped for the show later that night. Eliza would ignore whatever my friends and I requested we do during our time there and definitely played up the I'm older than you and therefore what I say goes card with me. So at this point I was already getting pretty sick of being around her and Jerry and couldn't wait to drop them off at the show to be rid of them for a while so just my friends and I could hang out once we dropped the two of them off. The rest of the night was fun, just as it always is when the three of us hang out. We went to Santa Monica and watched the sunset, walked around a bit, and by the time we started getting hungry, we checked out Yelp and found a burger place that looked amazing and was well suited for our tight budget. I don't go to LA often Ready
- [27:22]
Narrator/Host
to soundtrack your summer with Red Bull Summer All Day Play, you choose a playlist that fits your summer vibe the best. Are you a festival fanatic, a deep end dj, a road dog, or a trail mixer? Just add a song to your chosen playlist and put your summer on track. Red Bull Summer All Day Play Red Bull gives you wings. Visit RedBull.com BrightSummerAhead to learn more. See you this summer. If we knew more about our sleep,
- [27:49]
Storyteller/Guest
what would we do differently?
- [27:50]
Narrator/Host
Would we go to bed at a
- [27:51]
Storyteller/Guest
consistent time or take steps to reduce interruptions to our sleep? With Sleepscore, Apple Watch measures your bedtime consistency, interruptions and sleep duration.
- [28:01]
Narrator/Host
Then every morning it combines these factors
- [28:04]
Storyteller/Guest
into an easy to understand score from 1 to 100 so you'll know how to take the quality of your sleep from okay to very high. Know your sleep score With Apple Watch
- [28:15]
Narrator/Host
iPhone 11 or later required Girl Winter is so last season and now spring's got you looking at pictures of tank tops with hungry eyes. Your algorithm is feeding you cutoffs. You're thirsty for the sun on your shoulders that perfect hang on the patio Sundress those sandals you can wear all day and all night. And you've had enough of shopping from your couch. Done. Hoping it looks anything like the picture when you tear open that envelope, it's Time for a little in person spring treat. It's time for a trip to Ross. Work your magic.
- [28:47]
Storyteller/Guest
So when we pulled up the directions and got there, I wasn't aware of which part we exactly were in. We were looking to park but a group of what seemed to be gang members stood in front of the spot we were to going going to park and started approaching the car and putting their hands on the exterior while looking into the window. Eric was driving and said something to the effect of you guys fine with parking here, not fine with parking there. Both Eliza and I told him we needed to pack it up and find somewhere else. I have always been extra cautious, especially in la, since I've had a few other unsavory experiences. Experiences including the time a man followed me and my friend into our car and we had to shove him out so there was no way I felt good about parking there. So we drove a few blocks, starving and ready to just forget it until we found a clear spot in a well populated area. The food was great and all was well aside from the bunches of homeless people I saw around me. Pretty common in any part of LA you find yourself in. I didn't even realize that we had been in the heart of Skid Row. Once we made our way over though, we discovered that the place we wanted to eat was in the midst of Skid Row. For those who don't know, Skid Row is a neighborhood in downtown Los Angeles that extends about 50 city blocks and is mostly home to the homeless. There are also a lot of dealers and ladies of the night that hang around there too. We were walking back to our car and I looked up to one of the taller buildings along the block and the sign at the side of the top of the building read Hotel Cecil. Low weekly rates 700 rooms. The Cecil Hotel could be a post in and of itself, but in short, it's an old hotel that briefly was in its property crime back in the 20s and 30s, but as the depression struck, the hotel and its ambiance went down with had been known for housing some of society's unsavory such as the homeless and those in the drug and sex industry, along with a few infamous guests such as the night stalker Richard Ramirez. It's supposed to be vacant as of now, but as far as as I could see, I'm pretty sure there was ongoing activity within the building and around it. Squatters, I'm assuming. I don't believe in the paranormal or anything like that, but I can definitely confirm the unanimous thought that the place gives off really sketchy, creepy vibes. Once I realized that's where we were, my friends and I booked it to the car on the other side of the street. We saw people looking into another parked car and they looked our way once we approached the area, but thankfully we took off in time. Thankfully nothing happened to us there, but naturally I was on edge a bit after that, we stopped to pick up some pie from a pie shop Eric was obsessed with. Since it was on our way to the venue Eliza and Jerry were at, we thought we had plenty of time, but by the time we got to eating, Eliza called me and demanded we come over immediately. I knew nothing was wrong, so I did hurry a bit, but we decided to finish our pies before heading off. Eliza kept texting me with impatience, saying things like waiting here is boring and where are you? We're tired, we want to go now. Typical bossy old older sister things. She was kind of a jerk to me the entire day, so I guess I used that to justify my jerkiness back. But then we had another bump in the road. The pie Savannah tried had peanuts cooked into the crust and she got so sick we rushed out of there and tried to stop somewhere for water and an antihistamine. Since she didn't have her EpiPen, she started feeling a bit bad better, but she was still really sick and I was really stressed and worried. Once we got to the venue, Eliza and Jerry took forever to come out. I guess they started waiting to see if they could meet the artist as she came out. Once they finally came in and Eric and I shuffled to the back seat, Eliza had the nerve to yell at me for taking so long. We had to stop a few times so Savannah could throw up and rehydrate too. On top of that, Eliza and Jerry continued to play the same artist on repeat again, along with their choppy videos of the show. Oh, and of course they were singing. With Savannah sick, Eric as aloof as ever and me stressing and on edge about everything that had happened thus far, I was ready to bang my head against the window. I know in the scheme of things things, these aren't big deals. But by the time they all added up, especially my sick friend and the bad attitude of my sister, it drove me up the wall. We dropped Eric and Savannah off first since their town was on the way before ours. It was around 1am at that point. I was sick and tired of the music and loud talking and cackling and just overall annoying constant conversations of my sister and cousin. I Was that level of mad where you're quiet angry. So once the two left, I got out of the car and demanded that I drive home the rest of the way, mostly so I could dj, but also so I wouldn't have to hear them be jerks to me and talk so loudly. Eliza made a fuss about it, but ultimately, due to Jerry's cooperation, went to the backseat once again, I am up the wall, very on edge from this. I play my music as I drive us home, and everything seems fine. It's when I'm almost home that something happens. Our house is off the major freeway in town, though it's a bit of a lonely, desolate area. To get to our place, you have to pass a hilltop with other houses on it and make a turn around it to get to our neighborhood. There's a cemented patch of grass between a stretch of concrete between the hill and the turn that's used as a divider between oncoming and ongoing traffic. As I'm approaching, coming up to make the turn around the hill on my left, I see something that's creeped me out and been on my mind ever since. At this point, it's like 1:45 or two. This area isn't too busy this late at night or this early in the morning, I guess you could say. On the grass divider and along the cement, there are people lined along the thinner cement part of the divider and on the grass patch, a small crowd of people. There were at least 15 people, and they were all wearing white. I could see them purple perfectly with my lights on and the brightness of their clothes. And they were moving around almost doing a jig when I came up. But as I was driving next to them, unable to take my eyes off of them, they started raising their voices and all talking at once. I could hear it through the window and over my music. And they started sprinting towards me, trying to get my attention and following along. As I pulled to the right, right to make my turn. They literally were following me and talking at us. It was the most bizarre, creepy thing. I can't say for sure, but they were dressed similarly to KKK members, though I'm not too sure if that's what they were. And I'm obviously having a WTF moment. I didn't have a clue about what I saw, but I knew I did see something. I scream in panic and ask Eliza and Jerry if they saw, and of course they had been dozing off and groggily said no, but I know I saw whatever they were Some of their faces weren't covered. And I know I saw a man with a mustache, one of the many people, and they were rushing over and I got the feeling they wanted me to stop the car or something. I know people sometimes create diversions or distractions like that for their own nefarious reasons to target drivers. So I'm not sure what that was or what they were doing. The town I live in is small, old and somewhat rural. We are known as one of the most conservative towns in the usa. So I guess it could have been something like the KKK due to the way they were dressed. There are also some known observers of the occult in the area too, though not so common these days. Eliza and Jerry got irritated with me because I drove around the block past our own a few times rather than immediately pulling into our street. I was pretty sure they weren't following anymore, but I just was so creeped out. I felt like I had to do something just to be safe. I told our mother about this. She believed me, I think to an extent. But I mean, it does sound really absurd. And my sister to this day claims that it never happened. She even refuses to believe or acknowledge that I was the one driving. Sometimes it makes me feel crazy, but I know at the very least I was the one driving. She says she was, but I 100% know it was me. I am 100% positive I did see something. Some mysterious group doing who knows what. Be careful guys. When you go out of town, especially to a place like Los Angeles, you can expect some weird encounters. But the strangest and possibly the most dangerous one was just a little over a block away from my house. Just lurking in the dark, waiting for some passing motorist to stop and talk to them. Or maybe something far more sinister than just talking. The events of this story took place around the Autumn months of 2004. I am not sure what would have happened if my mom hadn't heard this person, but either way, I am grateful she did. To help paint a better picture of the events I am about to describe to you, I must briefly explain the basic layout of my home. There are three entrances to my home. The front side and the back door, which was located in what was my bedroom at the time. The back door has a glass window that allows the perfect view of our quarter acre backyard from my room. This might not seem like much, but living in Salem, Oregon, that's as good as you're gonna get. To access the backyard, you must first walk down the driveway on the left side of the house. Leaving you visible to our next door neighbors. This is also where our brittle side door from the 1940s lies. At the end of the driveway is our garage and to the right of that our backyard, as unfortunately there was no gate at the time. But this incident and several others like it led to us putting up a roughly seven foot fence. So now that you know the basic layout of my home, you're probably noticing the potential for something sinister to happen. And happen it did, my friends. But one thing is for for certain, it could have gone a lot worse. This particular incident took place in the early morning hours of 2 and 3am as I've always been a hardcore insomniac, I was watching YouTube on my tablet as most 13 year olds do, when I'm startled by a beam of light illuminating the garage doors in my periphery. Before I even turned my head to look, I had already come to the following conclusions. 1 the familiar circular beam of light was that of a flashlight, and two I had a weapon under my bed that I use for target practice just in case. I decided to wait and see who this light was illuminating from, as it wasn't uncommon for our neighbor to come into our yard looking for his cat. It's a good thing I did too, because the flashlight was attached to the end of a weapon held by a uniformed police officer, complete with a ballistic vest, taser, baton and radio. Confused, I leave my bedroom expecting to see my mom sitting on the couch watching her favorite TV show Bones. Instead, I saw my mother on the tips of her toes leaning over the kitchen sink, looking out the window and peering, trying to get a view of the officer slowly and methodically creeping his way up the driveway and into our garage. Yep, he was definitely here for us, I thought as I began to ask my mom what was going on. Apparently less than 15ft away from my bed, a homeless person on who knows what had snuck into our backyard and accidentally kicked our glass recycle bin. Alerting my mom who was in the basement doing laundry, my mom tells me she then looked out the basement bathroom window where she saw the person making the kind of stance that one would trying to balance on a board, almost like the stance of a child would do when they are out of bed at late hours of the night, trying to be sneaky to fetch a snack. Regardless of their feeble attempts at being stealthy, my mom had seen them and they must have caught on too, because by the time my mom went upstairs to retrieve her phone, dial 911 and an officer arrived, they were gone. The cop told us that no one was in the garage or the backyard and I could almost feel the anxiety lift off my mother's shoulders, even more so when the officer offered to send someone over and survey the house until sunrise. So just to clarify, yeah, someone who wasn't supposed to be here was here. And not only that, but if they had gone one or two more steps forward, there's no doubt they would have seen me and I would have been none the wiser. You may be glad to hear that I am much more cautious nowadays. I have since updated my arsenal. We have also installed several security cameras, a fence in the backyard, and a motion detector light. I work at a small organic grocery store with a surprising amount of strange customers. We get a lot of conspiracy theorists who for some reason always want to talk to me. Those people are weird and sometimes get slightly aggressive and uppity when I don't respond to their monologues they had prepared for me, but they don't scare me. I am lucky to work at a Did you know if your windows are bare, indoor temperatures can go up 20 degrees? Turn the temperature down with blinds.com and get up to 50% off custom window treatments like solar roller shades and more during the Memorial Day Mega Sale. Whether you want to DIY it or have a pro handle everything, we've got you free samples, real design experts and zero pressure. Just help when you need it. This is your last chance to shop up to 50% off site wide during the Memorial Day mega sale@blinds.com rules and restrictions apply.
- [44:51]
Narrator/Host
Capture your favorite summer feeling with Pandora Jewelry. Discover a collection inspired by the sunshine, freedom and moments that make the season unforgettable. From sun kissed metals to personalized pieces ready to be engraved with your summer mantra, each design moves with you from beach days to golden nights and every memory in between. Shop Pandora Jewelry's new summer collection in store or online@pandora.net and let your summer unfold. Spring just slid into your DMs. Grab that boho, look for that rooftop dinner, those sandals that can keep up with you, and hang some string lights to give your patio a glow up. Spring's calling Ross. Work your magic
- [45:36]
Storyteller/Guest
place with a wonderful group of managers who have no problem taking over a situation if it gets out of hand. The guy who scares me the most rarely ever actually talks to me. He's a regular there, one of the many of the homeless population who will stop in every now and then. Most of them are lovely people if a little strange. This man works at a store nearby and Lives in his car, so he'll often stop in multiple times a day. He has said a multitude of crazy things to my co workers, unprompted and for ridiculously long amounts of time. He told one of my co workers that because he wasn't white, he was the son of the Antichrist. And I heard him growl at my cousin coworker once because he had to swipe his card again. Even customers have complained about him saying weird things to them. The worst thing he does is he'll just stand and stare at us, specifically the employees. Sometimes he'll just stand in front of the checkout lines, not holding anything, not wanting to check out. He just stands still and stares at us. It's starting to ramp up and I am genuinely afraid of him. The staring and the weird comments were bad enough, but this is the incident that made me fearful of him. I had gotten work done early, so I was doing some grocery shopping around 8pm, an hour before closing. There were very few people in the store. And of course our scary friend. We have lots of names for him, but I mostly call him Squinty. He's always staring with his eyes right really narrowed. Was wandering around again slowly as he usually does. I swear to you, every time I looked behind me, he was following me into that aisle, even if it was starting to hurt and I got the few things I needed, even if it was one he had just been in. He was waltzing right up behind me. My stomach was starting to hurt and I got the few things I needed and left as fast as I could. Later on I was convinced by a wonderfully kind manager to let him send in a report so they could look at the tapes. Ever since then, his behavior has gotten scarier. One night he came in exactly at 8:45. He has been coming in nearly every day for years. He knows what time we close. He also knows that I almost always close in the evenings and I usually work several days in a row. It was right as I was about to go count my till and I swear as soon as I turned around, he was standing at the entrance, hands in his pockets, totally still staring me down. My manager walked me to the office and he did not move until I was in that room. I had the store manager walk me to my car. He isn't the most sensitive person person. He wants to see the best in everyone, oftentimes against the wishes of his employees. But even he was telling me he never comes in this late. As I was putting things into my car, he said, oh, that's weird. I look up and sure enough, there he is standing by his car and staring in my direction. Once I see him, he slowly gets in his car and just sits in it, not moving. He didn't follow me out of the parking lot, but I still took turns and back roads to make sure he didn't follow me. I was feeling pretty good this week. He didn't come in very much and when he did my manager would see him and tell him to go sit in the cash office before he could even lay eyes on me, then come get me. When he left I felt safe and thankful for these wonderful people. Then the other night, close to closing, I turn around to get some bags ready and he is standing outside the window right in front of me, staring at me, hands in his pockets, mask on his face so I can't see his expression, just his squinting, glaring eyes. I was shocked and of course at that moment I had a rush of customers and no other workers around me to help. My manager was on break, the store manager was somewhere way in the back. I was the closing cashier and I was all alone except for the few very disinterested late night customers that were now impatiently standing in my line. I kept going. As he walked into the store. He disappeared for a moment, as is the layout of the store and later my coworker in another department, also a young female working alone, came up front to tell me he was slowly walking through those aisles, not looking for anything, not looking at anything but her. Finally my manager came back. I quickly told her I needed to go to the back and as I did the man comes moseying up to the front to stand in front of my register, once again staring at me. I turn off my light and she turns hers on and I work to finish the transaction I was on. He has nothing in his hands, he's not trying to check out, but he's standing there like he's waiting in line. I put my closed sign up, he doesn't move. As soon as I finish I all but run back to the cash office. He was there for another 20 to 30 minutes before leaving. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but every time he enters the store my sleep stomach drops. He's barely ever spoken to me, but I can't help but feel like he knows I reported him and knows that I'm afraid of him. Recently, in one of his long winded one side conversations with a different cashier, he said he often runs out of his medication at the end of the month as I'm writing This. It's the middle of February. If this is how he's acting on his meds, I'm afraid of what the end of the month will bring. I have an aunt that lives in a haunted house. The house was built in the late 1800s. The house has a weird setup. It is technically two separate identical houses conjoined as one big house. According to my mom, the house was owned by two women that were twins, with each twin living on their own side and each side connecting through a staircase in the attic. Legend has it the twins had an uncle that did bad things to them. That ended in one of the twins getting pregnant and having a baby. The other twins smothered the baby. Baby ending in both of the twins taking their lives. Weirdly, almost every family member that has had the misfortune of sleeping over at that house has left with a story to tell. To my dismay, I have on two different occasions. The summer after I graduated eighth grade, my older cousin was getting married out of state. Not all the family from our state could go, so just me and my aunt went. We had a very early flight to catch, so she figured it would be better if I spent the night at her house. I asked if I could sleep in her room. When she asked why, I was direct and told her because the house was haunted. As usual, she shrugged it off and angrily disputed that there were no ghosts. She said, if it'll make you feel better, you can stay in my room. As night drew near, I went to the bathroom, to the medicine cabinet and took sleep medicine in hopes that it would make me fall asleep before my aunt. Sure enough, it didn't. My aunt dozed off and I lay wide awake and scared, occasionally switching my eyes from looking at the TV to glance at the hallway through the open door. A couple of hours passed and nothing happened. I started to let my guard down and relax a little. I got a little more comfortable in the bed, and out of nowhere, the closet doorknob started frantically rotating as if someone was trying to get out. I immediately sat up, wide awake and in panic mode. The remaining hours of the night, I stayed awake in fear, watching the closet door, not sure who or what was trying to open the closet. But to this day, I am happy nothing ever did. Years later, the summer after I graduated college, I spent the night over at her house again. Like the previous time, we were traveling out of town the next day, and my aunt figured it would be better if I spent the night at her house so we could catch our early flight. The next morning. I unhappily obliged. As we retired for the night, I headed to the room where I would be sleeping. It was the room down the hall from my aunt's. I closed the door, put on my pajamas and sat down on the recliner in front of the tv. I had already mentally prepared myself and had expected to stay awake the entire night. The beginning of the night I browsed the web on my phone to pass time. A couple of hours passed and nothing happened. As soon as the clock approached 3am, I began to hear what sounded like heeled shoes walking whatever it was, walked up the stairs, down the hall and stopped right outside the room I was in. I immediately jumped up, went to the heavy daybed in the room room and pushed it in front of the door to prevent whatever it was from opening the door. The walking continued again and again. It would start from the base of the stairs, go up the stairs and down the hall, each time stopping right outside the door of the room I was in. Despite barricading the door closed, I was still scared. To lighten up the tense atmosphere, I turned on a channel that had stand up call comedy and tried to watch that, but I was still scared. The walking persisted for the entire hour. Eventually it stopped, but I kept the door barricaded, remained awake and waited until morning to open the door. Needless to say, I have not been back to sleepover at my aunt's house and never will again. Okay, so here in the UK we don't really have Ryan Reynolds here from Mint Mobile. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same Premium Wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities. So do like I did and have one of your assistant's assistants switch you to Mint Mobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do@mintmobile.com
- [56:44]
Narrator/Host
Switch upfront payment of $45 for 3 month plan equivalent to $15 per month required intro rate first 3 months only, then full price plan options available, taxes and fees extra. See full terms@mintmobile.com elementary schools, but the
- [56:59]
Storyteller/Guest
equivalents are called junior or primary schools. We go here from about 44 to 11 years old. So while I suppose they're not strictly American elementary schools, I suppose this story fits into the age bracket. Anyway, this is the scariest thing that happened to me while I was at junior school. The school I went to had a tiny playground. Like I think there were only about 100 kids in the entire school. So the little concrete play area was maybe only like 50 meters across, it was tiny. So if something happened on the playground, every kid and supervising teacher could see it, which I suppose suited them down to the ground. But it didn't suit me the day something happened to Lewis. Because one day we are all just legging it around the playground as little kids do. Not a care in the world. When I hear one of the teaching assistants scream really, really loudly, lewis. Lewis. I remember it was autumn because I was playing with some fallen leaves when I heard the scream. Don't ask me why. I spin around like every single other kid in the playground after hearing that blood curdling screech to see the teaching assistant kneeling down by Lewis, who was just lying on the concrete with blood pouring out of his mouth. Not a little drip. I mean a steady stream of blood that was just cascading out of the corner of his mouth and pooling on the ground beneath him. I mean, that was horrific enough, but the thing that really got to me was that he was totally unconscious and that his eyes had just rolled up into their sockets so you could only see the whites of his eyes while he bled uncontrollably from his mouth. Mouth. Loads of us just piled into the coat room. Some kids were crying, others were pale and in shock. And I obviously can't speak for any of the other kids, but I 100% thought that Lewis was dead. I had never seen any kind of injury like that before. At least when my friend Yan broke his leg when he fell off a swing set, he had screamed bloody murder. Until the ambulance came, I knew he was alive, even if it was really distressing. But Louis was out cold, bleeding like a stuck pig. And his eyes. I didn't know eyes could even do that. Back when I was that age, afternoon classes basically got cancelled. The kids were just distraught. So no one was in any fit state to be concentrating on lessons. We were just kept in our classrooms until we were all called into the main assembly hall to hear the news about Lewis. We didn't get all the gory details, only that Lewis had taken a fall in the playground and had banged his head. We were told that he had been taken to the hospital and that he was okay, but that he would be out of school for a week or so while he healed up. Lewis was back before we knew it. We were all super relieved to see him. I remember the first day he was back. We all gathered around him as he showed off the big scar inside his lip where he had fallen on his face. He had also lost a few baby teeth, which I guess was lucky as he was about to lose them anyway. I suppose that was definitely the most terrifying thing I ever saw during my childhood. I mean, I'm 32 now, it's been like 25 years or so since it happened, but I remember the whole thing as clear as day. It's just burned into my memory. Those eyes, the whites of his eyes, they're something I'll never ever forget. To start this story, I should mention my occupation. I am in my 30s now and I am a journeyman electrician. I often work alone and in people's homes. So needless to say, I often find myself in rather interesting situations. I am a rather small woman as I am only 52 and maybe 125 pounds. I am very aware of my limitations when it comes to physically dangerous situation situations, especially when it would apply as a target of just about any male. I served in the military so I have a rudimentary knowledge of hand to hand combat and I am adept trained and a concealed weapons permit carrier. I also had experience as a paramedic in a major city. Needless to say, I feel as prepared as someone my size and gender could possibly be for most situations. However, this situation triggered a visceral response so I thought I would share my experience with who I refer to as the man with the mannequin legs. In the interest of privacy and simplicity, I will refer to him simply as John Doe. It starts on a Friday almost two years ago. The time was 7:30. I had already worked an extremely long day and was just ready to get home. I received an emergency dispatch to an apartment complex several towns over. I grumbled as it was a Friday night. I just wanted to go home and shower. The dispatch was for a loss of power to a condo unit in one of the older lower income buildings. There are certain home and buildings I go into which automatically trigger a certain amount of caution. Upon seeing the building I had a gut feeling already that I would proceed with an air of caution. I don't know what it was, but for the first time in seven years of doing this job I had an extreme sense of anxiety and trepidation about walking into the property. Thinking that I was over exaggerating but wanted to trust my gut feeling and be safe. I immediately texted both my office manager, my boyfriend and my mother my GPS location with a message saying this is where I am. His name is John Doe. This is his address and unit number. If you don't hear from me every 20 minutes until I tell you I have left, please call me first. If I don't answer, please call the police. My company uses a dispatch software that tells them my location for every appointment, but my gut told me that I needed to make sure they knew where I was, that they needed to hear my gut feeling screaming as loudly as I could. When I rang the bell, a gruff voice of a man who smokes far too many cigarettes forcefully inquires as to who is there. I answer, stating that I'm the electrician who was dispatched. He hits the buzzer and lets me in. I walk up the stairs and the first thing to hit me is the smell of the building. A building full of unwashed bodies, unemptied wet ashtrays and stale alcohol. He opened his door and the smell intensified. He wore grubby, unkempt, ill fitting clothing stained with fluids bodily or food in origin, his fluid face thin and gaunt, unshaven, with dark heavy bags under his eyes. Entering the door, I notice a small table that was stacked with empty beer cans toting me the champagne of beers. A plastic whiskey bottle went thunk off the toe of my steel toe boots and skidded across the floor. I look up at him. Though on the skinny side, he was tall. I ask him for details regarding the loss of power and he explains that some things work while others don't. I won't bore you with the details, but in the end I had to see the panel. I told him I had to go run out to my truck to grab a different screwdriver and I went back out and got my concealed weapon. Shoving it in my pants, I went back into the home with a deep breath to settle my nerves. He leads me to his bedroom as I pick my way across a sea of discarded items. We pass the kitchen, the sink stacked high with plates unwashed with rotting food precariously balanced atop one enough like a perverse game of Jenga. Stepping over clothing, garbage and discarded alcohol containers, burn marks in the carpet from someone nodding out and dropping a lit cigarette, I enter his bedroom. A mattress with a tattered blanket and no sheets or pillows sits in the center. If you ask any person who regularly goes into the home of others, one of the signs that something is off with the resident is a bare mattress. I'll be honest with you, no person in their right mind sleeps without at least a fitted sheet on their bed. The furniture is all second hand and distressed, broken in places, water stained as if it were saved from some unknown curb which was not sold during the estate sale, the top half of a naked dirty mannequin appearing as if it were stolen from an abandoned storefront of a long dead store Lays in the bed I trip over something as I am making my way around the bed. Looking down, I see two things that make me take pause. The more alarming of the two happened to be a set of legs from a mannequin carelessly hacked from the top half with what looks like to be a very dull hacksaw, a hole crudely drilled between the legs, lines drawn at the natural human joints like a surgeon marking amputation lines on body. Its hard, hard molded plastic, white in color, posed on the floor like it was modeling the latest fashionable footwear. While trying not to trip, I see a dimly flashing red light coming from the ankle of my creepy host. It's a Department of Corrections GPS ankle monitor. My breath catches in my chest as my anxiety increases. He leads me to the panel, which of course had to be located in the bedroom closet. I think to myself, of course, why wouldn't it be in the bedroom closet? I have to turn my back on him to make the repairs which makes my hair stand on end. He watches me smoking a cigarette and sneaking to the living room often to take a swig from a brown paper bag, occasionally standing over me to view my progress. He stands behind me, his hot breath on the back of my neck. Keep in mind, I am now in a closet, working in the back corner on an electrical panel, keeping my body turned as much as possible while still being able to complete my task. Which unfortunately wasn't enough as I didn't see him come out of the bathroom on the side, obscured from my view. The apartment had one of those bathrooms bathrooms with a door to the hallway and a door to the master bedroom. What's the problem? He rasps suddenly making me jump. Well sir, your electrical panel is failing. It appears that only half of the panel is working. That is pretty common for this model at the end of its life, I reply, keeping my tone even and unwavering. I leave, telling him that I need a different type of breaker in order to get him up and running temporarily. I was not about to spend the several hours required in his presence to replace the electrical panel, but without getting too far into it, I could shuffle the breakers around in order to return power to about 80% of the circuits in the panel. But he had a very old panel and I had to go get some supplies to do it. I leave and head over to the supply store, all the while texting those who received my earlier texts regarding my apprehension of going into the home. I tell them that My gut feeling was perfectly correct and I did not feel comfortable. My office manager told me that she would understand if I was not comfortable finishing the repairs, but I told her that I wouldn't dump that on another one of my co workers, although they were male, I realized realized that I had more of an ability to protect myself than they would have. Although it didn't cross my mind till later that they would have been less of a target, I would go back in and finish my job. I returned still with my concealed weapon, taking comfort in its presence, but being extremely aware that if he came up behind me and smashed me on my head, I may not have time to remember react, taking solace in the idea that I would be safe at least until I had restored electricity to the home. Why attack the electrician until the job is done right? I make a few temporary repairs and tell him that I'll have to come back to finish the rest of it, stressing that this repair would probably only hold him over until the following week or until the panel has failed in its entirety. The panel needs to be replaced and I would send him an estimate to replace it. Realizing that this would be the most dangerous part of my interaction with him, I ready myself to get payment and leave. If there was a time for him to decide to act on more nefarious predilections, this was the time. I'd already prepared the invoice. I think he notices me gripping my folding knife, my hand inside inside my pocket, ready with a backup in case I cannot get to my concealed weapon in time as he had not done anything overtly threatening. I give him the benefit of the doubt and he doesn't do anything threatening. His hands shake and he fills out a check for the amount due, his hand shaking while holding the pencil. The kind of shakes you see in somebody who is an alcoholic or a drug addict. Again, not overtly threatening, he thanks me, all while eyeing me like a piece of meat. He watches me walk to my truck, following me to the apartment landing and to the main front door. I am almost running now and I jump into my work truck and lock the doors. I finally breathe. I finally feel safe until I see him in my mirror, staring back at me from the rear section of my truck. Not threatening, just staring. I leave without finishing my paperwork and go a few blocks down. I stop and start shaking as the adrenaline slowly leaves my system. I reassure my family that I'm safe and tell my boss that I cannot go back to that address. Within 10 minutes of leaving, the office manager contacts me and tells me that he has already booked an appointment for me to do the panel the following week. I tell her that I have not even sent him an estimate yet and if he can't afford it, to be prepared for a cancellation that following Monday. I prepare the estimate and with the permission of my boss, I overprice it about three times what it should cost, hoping that he will not ask me to come back. No such luck. Within 10 minutes of sending the estate estimate, my boss called saying that he had accepted it and wishes to keep his appointment. I told my boss I cannot go back to a guy who accepts an estimate that cost three times over what it should, especially when he obviously didn't have funds to spare. I beg and plead not to make me go back. Instead, they offer to send me back with another person and my heart drops. I look for a reason not to. After seeing the ankle bracelet, I knew he would have some form of criminal record. I quickly google his name and the name of the city he lived in. It was one of the first results and I find out exactly why he was wearing an ankle monitor. He had just gotten out of prison. John Doe, served two years in state prison for stalking a woman. A perfect stranger. A waitress he met at a local breakfast joint. When she threatened to report him, he broke into her home. He held her hostage as she begged him to allow her to leave. When she refused, he told her he would kill her and threatened to dismember her. He threatened to make her disappear in a way that her family would never know where she went. The article didn't say how it concluded, but the woman was safely able to get away and he was arrested. He then spent two years in a state penitentiary and received five years of monitored probation. He had only been released in the last year. It took less than a year for that apartment to get in that state. My heart leapt into my chest as I realized what this man may have truly been capable of. Here I was, a small woman in the service industry, just like that waitress. Him setting up the appointment. Overpriced. It was all so wrong. With the evidence of the mannequin staring me in the face, it appears his fantasy is alive and well. It appears that the last two years have taught him exactly what he wanted to do. I thought back over the last week and remember two occasions where a beat up old tan Buick had been following me, but not closely, not even enough to set off alarm bells. But again, I noticed these type of things. I can't be 100% sure it was him, but Looking back, it probably was. It just seemed like the car would spontaneously appear and follow me between appointments, never entering the neighborhood I was going into, but would follow me onto the main streets. Keep in mind my work van is essentially a 9 foot tall billboard for my company. I am impossible to miss, so you do not have to be very close to see where my truck is going. I do not have a rearview mirror, so if you are in the right spot, I cannot see a good majority of a car that's behind me. I can tell there is in fact a car behind me, but I obviously cannot see the front portion of it. The car would always be around for a few of my morning appointments, but once I would travel more than about 15 miles away from the town that John Doe lived in, it would vanish. When I'm doing estimates all day, I can easily drive about 200 miles in one workday. I can drive between job sites that are maybe 10 minutes apart or up to about an hour and a half from each other. I crisscross the northeastern half of the state all day. It makes it extremely difficult for somebody to follow me all day long. I assume he tried to find me by name, but without telling you my name, I can tell you that I have an incredibly common name to the point where when I was in middle school there was another girl attending the school with the same exact name. First and last. My name is so incredibly common that unless you knew me personally, you could not find me on the Internet. I keep all of my security settings on social media incredibly strict and I never post anything that will reveal my location. I even have this setting off in my phone that saves the location to a photo. I wouldn't say that I am paranoid per se, but I learned very young what the world is actually like that most people do not have your best interest in mind. I can thank the US army for teaching me, but once something goes into the Internet, it can never be truly deleted. I think this is why he was never able to find me, although I am sure he tried. He called my company almost daily for weeks to try to get me to go back out to work on his electrical panel. He even offered to pay me more money if I would come back. Luckily, I had shared all the information I had found with all of the office staff. I made sure a do not service was placed on his name and address. My company stood behind me and protected me, going as far as to make sure my name and photo were not on the website, that I was never tagged in any social media, and that my schedule was randomized, with me never starting and finishing at the same town or anywhere near the same location. I was never booked within 10 miles of his address. Needless to say, my company never sent any technician back to the man with mannequin legs. I ended up with nothing more than a story. A story that shows that no matter how prepared you might be for a situation, you never know exactly who you're dealing with. That you should be prepared for anything and everything that can come your way. A story that stresses the importance of trusting your instincts. It's.