← Southern Cannibal's Scary Stories
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I was hiking in the Olympic National Forest a few years ago by myself and my two dogs. We were four days in, around 20 miles at least as a crow flies from even a known mountain road. I was camping at around 7k feet that night, or right where the tree line started thinning out. So when we got to the campsite, a big open meadow on top of a secondary mountain, it was about an hour from the sunset. My big dog usually runs around within proximity of the camp as I had put the tent up and make dinner, etc. But I noticed this time was a little different. He kept staring up this steam tree filled mountainside, tail straight up and barking. Not the bark when he sees marmots, not the excited oh you guys are so lucky because I'd rip you all apart if my master wasn't here. High pitched barks, but more like unsure, concerned barks. Now the day before I had a note left under a rock at the last landmark saying that there was a problem bear in the area that was harassing a party of campers just a few days ago. And I myself had seen big cat tracks the day before, so I was rightfully concerned that this may be a bit more than just ground squirrels. I decided to go climb some of the boulders at the foot of the hill while I took my time looking up the hillside for movement before I went to hang my beer bag up there. They were the only trees around to hang the back. I didn't see or hear anything, but my dog kept quietly whining like there was something up there. So while still concerned, I started hiking up this steep hill to hang the back. It was so steep I had to use the trees to balance and lean against so I didn't go tumbling down before making another five six step push to the next tree I could lean against. Anyway, I'm slowly making it up to this hillridge, hopping from tree to tree to keep my balance. Then I get about 100ft up the hill and I hear a whole lot of big movement about 50ft in front of me. My dog immediately goes from a deep low growl to a savage slobber flying everywhere type barking. Now my heart starts pounding out of my chest and I start to panic. A million thoughts go racing through my head in the matter of seconds because if this is a bear, my dog is going to try and save me in which he will most likely die and I'm stuck here. If I have to get off that hillside fast, I am almost 100% going to trip and fall off the 1215 foot cliff onto the boulders below. Like literally hundreds of five, 20 foot boulders. So, yeah, I'm feeling pretty screwed about now. Then I hear my other little dog start barking and freaking out down at my campsite while which was just out of my sight. I had her zipped up in my tent so she didn't wander off while I was away. So, yeah, I'm absolutely panicking at this point. A few seconds after, I kinda snap back to it and I take another few seconds to start to put my survival priorities in order. And I call my dog back to me. He comes and sits against my feet as my back is against a tree. So I'm kinda pinned and stuck there for a moment. But my dog was seemingly trying to separate me from something up there. So I let him lean against me while I tried to collect myself. This is when I realized that I had completely forgotten that I had my headlamp on. I reach up so fast to turn my headlamp on and I basically punch myself in the face. I'm having some serious adrenaline dumps going right now. So much that my knees are starting to shake. I get my lamp on and peer up the hillside. I figured I'd at least get a reflection of eyes or whatever's up there. Hearing nothing. But I had just heard something. We both did. And whatever it was didn't get away or sound like it made it too far. I knew something was there. So I'm kinda just steadfast at this point. I need to know what is up there because I have to sleep here tonight. And you know, I'm out here in the middle of nowhere alone. Better to face it than just wait like a sitting duck all night long was my thought process. So, yeah, as I'm looking up this hill and at one point my dog lunges forward, unpinning me. He does a fake bluff charge up the hill about 15ft. And I mean, he's snarling and foaming at the mouth at this point. As he does this, I finally see movement. Something moving up and breaking the line of the horizon and sunset. My dog's bluff made whatever it was below its cover. So I'm zeroed in. I called my dog back and silently watch. And what I made out made my heart completely stop. There was a man crouched about 75ft directly in front of me, wearing no camo clothes, but some raggedy crap with a hood that blended into the environment perfectly. It was actually almost like a makeshift ghillie suit, but with his face fully exposed, I couldn't see his eyes and his face was covered in dirt or something. But I knew we were staring right at each other at that moment. So I stare for what seems like minutes. No words. I felt like I was trying to subconsciously convey that I was going to stand my ground. I wanted him to know that I saw him, But I guess I was just too shaken up to speak. As I'm staring, my little dog back at the campsite started to bark her head off again, like she was scared. I also had to get off that hill before it was totally dark or I could be seriously hurt or risk dying trying to get back down. So carefully, I start heading down the hill with my dog, who doesn't want to leave but listens periodically. I would stop with my back against a tree holding me up and look in that direction again just to make it even more clear. I saw him. And eventually I make it down to the boulders at the bottom. By the time I finally jumped down and hit the boulders, my little dog had finally stopped barking. I could only see the top of my tent from the bottom of the boulders. I thought that she was barking just to bark. Dachshunds tend to do that, or at least barking back at my dog. But when I get there, my little dog had somehow gotten out of the tent and was walking around the camp growling, with her tail sticking straight out, still trying to hold it together. I thought, okay, maybe she just got her nose between the zippers and worked her way out. But I was positive that I had zipped it so the zipper tab and openings was at the very top of the tin door, out of reach. So in a mixture of being terrified, pissed off, and the feeling of needing to do something, I reached into my day bag and pulled out my 40. I fired a single shot into the air as the sun was setting, Climbed into my tent without eating, and I lay with my gun next to me until first light. As soon as the sun came up, I was packing up my crap and leaving, Heading back down the mountain. It sucks. It was all downhill back, but I still couldn't cover the ground to get back to my car in one day. It was dark by the time I made it to the last camp, about four miles from my vehicle. But thankfully there were other people there. We sat around a fire they made, and I felt pretty relieved and safe. They start to tell me that they're planning to head that way, where I was the night before in the morning. So I tell them my story in detail. Needless to say, we're both walking back to our cars in the morning. Screw all that. The thing that still creeps me out to this day, though, is when I get home and start reading reviews of the same hike I was on. Other people had similar experiences like mine as well. Even a man found dead from a fall around the same boulder range two years ago, and a woman found murder just last year. I don't think I'm ever going back. This started when I was at my childhood friend's apartment for what was supposed to be a fun little movie night. We hadn't hung out in a while and we were catching up. Her place was cozy, a little disorganized, and full of girly decor. We were in our comfiest sweatpants, about to watch princess movies. Her apartment isn't the most tidy, things are a bit scattered around, but it's clean and so authentic, which always made me feel at home. We decided on ordering pizza for dinner. She mentioned that Sherwood, someone I hadn't met yet, would be bringing the pizza over. At first I wasn't happy to hear that. I thought that meant that she had invited other friends, a boy over to join us, which wasn't what I had in mind, but I was in for a surprise. Sherwood turned out to just be our delivery guy for the night. He wasn't joining us when he got to the apartment. There was this awkward air about him. He was obviously nervous, fumbling a bit with the pizza boxes and not quite making eye contact. My friend introduced us quickly, and it was clear from her overly thankful demeanor that Sherwood did a lot more for her than just fetch dinner. After handing us the pizza, there was this brief moment of forced small talk. My friend was super nice to him despite his awkwardness. He wasn't the best conversationalist and seemed really out of place. Then Sherwood asked for my number. I was in a tough spot because our mutual friend was sitting right there, so I just gave it to him. Yeah, we chatted for maybe five minutes before my friend gave him a cue to leave with something like thanks so much for dropping this off, and he seemed to get the hint. We both gave him a hug before my friend said something like, well, drive safe, giving him another kind of cue to leave. When I asked my friend what that was all about, she basically explained that Sherwood was her unpaid personal assistant. He did her grocery shopping, he dropped off pizza, and he did all this other stuff too. I think Sherwood was just a really lonely guy, desperate for interaction, especially female interaction. My friend and I were both young and immature back then. We were about 23, but I think we Both knew something was seriously wrong with Sherwood. It was a little hard to articulate because we couldn't point out exactly what his problem was. Sherwood started a group chat with my friend and I. He just sent a meme or two every week. It felt like he was trying to stay relevant without being intrusive. Maybe he was used to being sidelined or even blocked by other girls in the past. It felt like he was trying to make me remember him. But I'm also carefully trying not to give me a reason to block him, too. I can't speak on his behalf. That's just what it felt like. Sherwood also offered help with errands the first time. I said thanks for asking, but no. He asked every weekend after that. One day, I made the mistake of actually accepting his help. I knew better. I had recently found a great deal for a new washing machine on Craigslist, but I had no idea how to pick it up and install it. When I mentioned it in the chat, Sherwood excitedly volunteered to take care of the whole thing. He handled the whole pickup and installation like a total champ, which saved me so much hassle. I tried to pay him for his efforts because I wanted to show appreciation, but he wouldn't accept any money. I insisted. Eventually, he suggested that I could repay him by joining him for a hike. Like what? I was uneasy about this. It felt a bit too personal and almost like it could be mistaken for a date. But Sherwood framed it as nothing more than a friendly outing, like a transaction. To balance out the favor, I agreed to the hike. I rationalized it by telling him that it was a fair trade for installing the washing machine and that it was genuinely a form of payment, especially since I didn't think he had too many friends. This hike felt like maybe a way for him to have some companionship. I thought it might be nice helping him. Part of me was still uneasy about spending time with him in such an isolated setting. The day of the hike, Sherwood picked this trail that was nearby. I'd been there before. It's gorgeous. As we walked along together, he had chatted about ordinary things like work, the weather, and his hobbies as well. Everything seemed normal until he suggested that we go off the main path to see something special that he wanted to share with me. Like, what could that even mean? Well, we reached the secluded spot, and there was. How do I explain this? Well, there was a dead body. My heart pounded so violently as Sherwood stood there, so eerily calm and nonchalant. The casualness in his demeanor made me feel even more uneasy. It felt like he wasn't just showing me a dead body, but also revealing this darker side of himself. It smelled bad, but not like in the movies. I didn't know how long it had been there. I am not a biologist, but my guess is that it had smelled a lot worse before. But now it had gone down. At that moment, I mumbled some excuse about needing to get back quickly and started walking briskly towards the main path. I was urging Sherwood to follow me. I thought maybe this was just some twisted mind game, like a way to intimidate me or show me that he wasn't just some harmless little boy. Maybe he was trying to send me a message that said, you should know I'm familiar with things like this. Oh, there's another possibility. Maybe he just wanted me to think about him more. Sometimes when I talk to people, I feel like they only notice me for the time that we're together. And then they won't think of me again until the next time we meet. It's very possible Sherwood felt that way with me, and maybe he thought showing me a dead body would make him less forgettable. I really have no idea. But on the surface, he seemed oblivious to how inappropriate this was. As we walked back together, I was in full fight or flight mode, instinctively looking around to see if there were other hikers or rangers, anyone who could make me feel like I wasn't alone. The moment I had spotted someone else on the trail, I called out. Not to expose Sherwood, but just asking for directions back to the parking area. I wanted to make sure Sherwood and I wouldn't be left alone together. I asked this gentleman to walk us back to the parking lot. I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I kept pretending like I was confused about his directions, and eventually he agreed to just walk us there. Getting help from that guy was my way of re anchoring myself to safety and normality while I was still under the shock of what Sherwood had just shown me. We got into the parking area. There, I called my friend and I told her I was with Sherwood. I suggested he could drop me off with her and that we'd be there in 20 minutes. Sherwood agreed that was my way of making sure that if anything happened, it was on the record that Sherwood was the last person to have been with me. Also, I immediately texted my friend what had happened to get that on the record, too. When I got to her apartment, we said thanks to Sherwood and kindly told him to go away. I had already told her through text, but then I had started to Go into all of the details. The fact that the body had insects, the fact that the face was decomposing but still recognizable, etc. Her reaction was pure terror. Not just about the dead body, but also how nonchalantly Sherwood had treated the whole situation. She confessed that she had always sensed something was off about him, even though she had never imagined anything this disturbing. We both agreed that we needed to remove Sherwood from our lives. She admitted that she felt stuck and she had become too reliant on Sherwood just to fire him cold turkey. We planned out how we would do it. It was this gradual phasing out plan. We would limit our interactions to times when others were present. We would slowly reduce our responses to his texts. I would never ask for his help again, and my friend would ask for less and less help. Sherwood kept texting during the weekends, offering to run errands or asking if we needed anything, to which my friend would reply, I'm trying to work on being more independent, but you've really been such a good help. Eventually, as my friend had started dating someone new, she had introduced Sherwood to her boyfriend. Sherwood never contacted her after that. I had called the cops the same night of the incident, but it was a while before we heard more news about it. At least a full month later, a news report confirmed discovering a dead body in that area where Sherwood had taken me hiking. They made an arrest not of Sherwood, but of this other guy that Sherwood followed on Instagram. I have no idea if Sherwood was connected to the murder. Reflecting on everything, I think there's one clear moral of the story. Trust your instincts. It was almost 20 years ago that this happened. It's an old story and I'm pretty sure no one is in imminent danger. My family has some property that backs up to Carson National Forest in New Mexico. It's been in the family for years and my sister and I both spent our summers up there. It's gorgeous. Nice and green, cool mountain air in the summer. It was always a relief to get up there and away from the dusty ranch. My dad was ex military and having two daughters, let's just say we did lots of outdoor stuff. He taught us survival skills and how to defend ourselves. We hunted and fished and did lots of camping and hiking. To us it was always a fun time, but I guess he felt the need to pass on his skills to us. We spent several weeks in the summer up there, hiking with them and exploring the old cabins, mining communities and checking the Big Ditch project that was built for the Red river back in the late 1800s. I think that's the correct date for that project, but I'm not quite sure. Anyways, it's a really great place to hike with some beautiful high mountain lakes, streams, lots of wildlife. You get the point. This happened when I was in college and my younger sister was still in high school. My dad was still at home having to work and would come up every few weeks to spend time with us. We were up there with our mom and she mainly spent time in town or around the property, painting. We spent our time on the jeep trails or hiking and sleeping. It was late June, maybe early July, I think, and we decided that we were going to go hike up to Lost Lake. It's one of my favorite lakes up there because if you look at it from a certain angle, it looks like a heart. We set off in the morning and we were prepared and we both had a small hammock we planned to set up once we got to the lake so we could just enjoy the area for a while. I will admit to being an outdoor type and swear when it's quiet enough, you can hear the trees talk. We also both always carried a knife when we hiked. My dad always insisted we have something just in case an accident happened or if we just needed it. The hike was going good since the summer cabin is pretty far up the valley. We just sat out on foot to the trailhead. To get to Lost Lake, you take another trail that goes up to Middle Fork Lake. Then you break off that trail for Lost Lake. We ran into a few other hikers, but they were going to Middle Fork Lake. And we were pleased because it looked like we could possibly have Lost Lake all to ourselves. It's a pretty good hike with some long switchbacks at the end, but totally worth it because the lake is just beautiful and it's a very pretty emerald green in color. Well, we got there and we saw that we did have the lake to ourselves. We hiked around the lake and decided to hike back for a bit to find a good spot to set up our hammocks. We walked into the treeline and the first thing my sister said was, do you smell that? And yep, I did. It was a dead animal with the strong scent of blood. We had both done lots of hunting and we knew that smell well. And that's when I saw was a deer carcass. But what was around it is what disgusted me. Placed around the deer carcass in a circle were its organs, entrails, etc. But it wasn't like it was being cleaned. It's like they were placed in a certain arrangement with little piles of rocks between everything. Now, I know how some people get disgusting with their kills. And I've had some guys try to gross me out, but I don't fall for crap like that. But this made me uneasy. It wasn't just being cleaned. It was like it was set up in a certain meaning. Or it had meaning. I stepped back from the weird circle, and then my sister started to say my name, but stopped. Because then we see the guy who had done this. He looked like he had just climbed out from inside the deer because he's covered in blood and he doesn't have much clothing on. At first I thought he didn't even have anything on. But honestly, I didn't try and check him out much. He was standing back away from his gruesome little circle, just standing close to a group of trees that were pretty close together. He was maybe 20ft from us. I think that he was maybe trying to hide, but not sure. But my dad had always taught us that if we ever found ourselves in a situation where we didn't feel in control to do everything in our power to try to take full control of the situation. Do something that's going to take the other person by surprise. Don't do what they expect you to do. So this was raging through my brain, and I also could tell my sister was about to freak the hell out. So I stepped up and said, hey, pretty good kill you got there. Did you use a bow? The guy just stood there, his eyes all crazy wide, like he was stoked out of his brain on planet Pluto. So I'm thinking, great. We ran into this guy getting his hunt on, and he had lost it and was getting blood crazy with his deer. He was staring me down, and I was staring right back. And my sister was getting ready to run. I still don't know what came over me, but I then put my hand on my knife that I kept on my waist just to show him that I wasn't completely helpless. I don't know why I did it, but something told me to let him know that I wasn't going to back down or be afraid. I kept eye contact with him, and I would guess that he was maybe in his early 30s, but I'm really bad at guessing people's ages. He was pretty dirty, though. You could tell that with even all the blood he had everywhere. I started to back off, and my sister had moved behind me. So I spoke again and said, so you have a great hunting day Again. The Crazy man didn't say a thing. Just stood there like he was a statue or something, or like he thought I couldn't see him if he didn't move or make any sound. We moved back to the lakeside again and then booked it around the lake. My sister stayed up front and she was shaking pretty badly. I was mainly pissed off at first because if he wanted to get all crazy in the woods with his deer, then he should have gone further back up in the forest. We got back to the trailhead and we had stopped to get our bearings and looked at each other. I was scanning the forest line just to make sure we weren't being followed, and my sister was just in shock. We started down the trail pretty fast, and I was hoping I could keep my sister together until we could at least reach the Middle Fork Lake Trail or that we would even run into some more hikers. But the odds weren't good on this particular trail because you have to get an early start on the Lost Lake Trail, and by now it was late morning noon. We were making good time and hadn't even discussed what we saw. Just started hiking back down. I started to get that feeling when you just know you aren't alone. I kept checking, but I didn't see anything or even really hear anything. At first my sister refused to look back and just kept going. But I felt that I had to keep checking to make sure that the idiot wasn't following us. That's when the first stuff came flying at us. It was some small pebbles, but it really pissed me off because it was obvious someone was throwing them at us and it could have only been him. My sister was almost running at this point, but I'm a mouthy smart aleck. I blame the Texas upbringing. And dang it, this was my forest. I had grown up here, and these were my legs, my trails, and I wasn't about to let some crazy dude ruin it for me. I started yelling back that he needed to go back to his deer and leave us alone. At this point, my sister is telling me to shut up and just come on. And I'm thinking, no way. This guy is just trying to scare us. The pebbles stopped and then we started hearing barking and growling noises. My sister then said, now he's growling at us. And I just told her to get down on the trail and ignore it. He was behind us pretty much the whole way, growling and making these barking noises every once in a while, but I never caught a glimpse of him. Once we got close to where the trail joined with the Middle Fork Trail. He seemed to back off. I never caught sight of him behind us, but I could hear him and I just knew he was there. We started down the rest of the trail. My sister refused to stop or look behind her, so I kept checking every so often. I didn't see anything or hear anything. We started to discuss what had happened and she felt like he was very sinister and felt like we had been in a dangerous situation. I felt like he was just getting his kicks out of scaring two girls. I mean, he had to have heard us coming around the lake. We weren't being quiet, it was the opposite because there are black bears up there and we would always be pretty loud while hiking, hoping to scare off any bear in the area so we wouldn't come up on one. To this day she still thinks he was sinister and I think he was just trying to scare two girls and was getting his kicks out of it. We told our parents and my dad didn't like what he heard. He did teach us some more up close defense skills after that day and he forbid us from ever hiking alone or just the two of us again. We didn't hike up that trail for several years with anyone. It really freaked out my sister and I just didn't like remembering a time where I was scared in the forest that I considered my own. I didn't know it at the time, but after we had gotten back to the house and told my mom, she had called some neighbors and a few of the men hiked up there the next day to check things out. They did find the deer carcass and some empty hiking packs like what day hikers use, but they were empty. They also found a rustic campsite further back in the woods that had been cleared out as well. Preamble. I am a late 20s female and this happened fairly recently. Nothing bad happened to me, but I'm really lucky it didn't and it easily could have. There's a conservation area that I used to like to walk in regularly. It's beside a golf course near an ordinary subdivision just off a busy road and is pretty popular with dog walkers and photographers. The conservation area is fairly well maintained and alerts its users that there are hidden cameras everywhere. My point in bringing attention to all of this is to say that by all accounts, this is a very safe, vanilla, urban wooded area in a populated area. One big thing about me is that I really like isolation to recharge. I dislike crowded trails and by convention going off peak hours or when the weather is unpleasant. Not dangerous, but unpleasant. For example, when it's too cold, lightly raining, foggy, etc. I stay safe. But I like there to be as few people around as possible in a city in daylight. I don't feel like I'm taking any risks by doing this. The first encounter there was one day I went in around 4pm or so on a frigid rainy Monday in November. On days like that, there are maybe only one or two dog walkers. But today there was no car in the parking lot except for a dirty blue pickup truck with a man sitting in it. I noticed that he was looking at me, but that didn't really bother me. I was just happy to see the trail was empty. On this particular day, I went to the area to practice my navigation skills. I was learning how to use a compass at the time, and it's good to practice that skill in an area that you won't get lost in. So I decided to go off trail to a big pine plantation, which is a big open area with large mature pine trees. If you're not familiar, it's not a hiking area or really interesting in any way, and definitely off trail. You wouldn't get there unless you really wanted to get there. So I pick my first landmark and sight it using my compass and I'm pacing towards it. I find myself about halfway there when I hear rustling through the bushes. And I turn around to see the man from the dirty blue pickup truck there entering the pine plantation. Mid 50s white man, a little pudgy, wearing a baggy beige cardigan and blue slacks. I feel pretty alert at this point. Feels out of place somehow. I take note, but pretend to keep walking around with my compass because I don't want to seem weird. I look at him, he pretends to ignore me. I'm getting a really bad gut feeling about the situation for some reason at this point, and I feel like he's following me. But I have an anxiety disorder, so I try to not freak out for zero reason and I don't want to ruin my relaxation time. I mean, it's just a guy walking around, no big deal. To see if he's following me, I pivot 180 degrees and I walk directly towards the trail. Again, he's still following me. I walk through the bushes onto the trail, still following me at this point I was freaked out. The pine plantation entrance is only about 50ft on the trail. So this guy would have walked 50ft, enter the pine plantation and then decided that was it for the day. Bad odds. Yeah, he was definitely following me. I quickly exit the trail, and when I'm leaving the parking lot, I see that he's still looking at me. I take the long way home. The experience freaks me out, and I only visit the area once before the second encounter. Now on to the second encounter. This time I want to go bird watching. A week prior, I had seen an owl in the same pine plantation and I wanted to see it again. I was practicing navigation again. I had seen it about an hour before sundown, so I figured that was a good time to try and see it again in the same area. I checked the parking lot and there was no blue pickup truck, but there were two other cars with men. One was a red sedan with heavily tinted windows, and it looked like the other one was empty, so I went on the trail again. Today is muddy, wet and cold. Area should be totally empty. Good. Unfortunately not. So about 20ft on the trail, I hear footsteps behind me. I don't like when people walk behind me, but it's not a crime and I'll lose them soon. When I go to the pine plantation. I'm sure you know where this is going. When I walk on the pine plantation, there is the same rustling of the bushes from before. And when I turn around, I see the same man from before. I feel a wave of terror and dread overcome me. Alone in a muddy forest with a possible stalker. But it's still so calm and it feels so mundane. To confirm my fears, I walk over to the area where I saw the owl just last week and pause to look for it. Who do I see next to me? The same freaking guy from before. I'm terrified at this point and every part of me is screaming, run. So I walk as fast as I can to the trail again. I pass some other random guy in the same pine plantation and smile at him. Just totally on autopilot. He smiles back. It wasn't until I was in the parking lot where I get freaked out that there was a second person in the same pine plantation. Could they have been connected somehow? I stop briefly in the parking lot and take out a small notepad to quickly write down the license plates of the two cars. This allows the original man to catch up to the parking lot. I'm booking it out on foot out of the parking lot, and he yells towards me, hey, can I give you a ride? And I just shake my head and keep walking. As I walk away, he begins to follow me in his car. He waits at the intersection to see which direction I'm going in. And I decide to walk in a Busy park to lose him, he pulls into a nearby hidden driveway and just stares at me and then he takes out his phone to presumably take a photo of me. He notes what direction I'm walking in. Then he does a U turn and drives fast the other way. I took the long way home, filled out a police report and the police opened an investigation on it. I have not gone back to the conservation area since, and this experience has definitely left me with an ongoing nervousness about being alone. Doubly more because I do not know who the second guy is. I passed him so quickly. I only know that he was about mid-50s, had glasses and he was bald. The police unfortunately told me there's nothing they can really do at this point, so the best I can do is stay vigilant and to try to not let it freak me out too much. Unfortunately, this has totally ruined my love for going out into the wilderness alone. Nothing bad happened, but I think that was more because I was able to escape and lose him before anything happened. This is truly the scariest, most horrible thing that has ever happened to me. I've never been so petrified in my life. To this day, I still don't know who this man was, what he was trying to do, or if he still is where I saw him. I'm sorry for how long the geographical description is. I just want everyone to understand how secluded I was when this happened and how badly it could have ended if it wasn't for my parents. I was back home for the summer for the first time in a year after starting uni. Our home was and still is just outside of a small town with forests all around. There was also a small man made lake which diverged from a river that ran for miles through the forest and ramified into a few streams. East of the lake near my home, there was a small grassy path that led to the river following a stream. It was a long walk, but one I used to go on often as a child. I knew the forests there well. I knew where I could cut through the dense trees to meet the stream. The walk I would go on always led me off the path which turned northwest slowly so away from the stream and then took a sharp turn to the west after a few miles of walking, at which point the stream was hidden quite deep into the forest. I'd continue to walk north and follow the stream through the forest to get into the river, then follow the river west to get into the lake. It's easy to get lost in this forest because the terrain isn't just A slope down to the water. It goes up and down and you end up completely surrounded by trees. I'd spent many days wandering around there, alone or with my dad over the span of 18 years, never seeing anybody else in the forest. I went there twice that summer, both times alone. Ish. The first time I left in the morning. I walked along the path away from the stream to the sharp bend, then come back into the forest. I reached the stream after an hour or so. As I was running my hands in the water, I had heard a bell from far away, coming from the north. Something was making a bell ring fervently and periodically, which I found strange. I listened well, wondered if it was just a lost hunting dog and started moving towards the sound. Yeah, I bloody know I'd be the first person to die. But I was heading north anyway, so what the hell. I realized that it couldn't have been an animal. I could tell that the bell was way too heavy because of how clear the sound was to be on a collar. I kept moving and the bell was moving away from me. It stopped completely after five minutes. The stream wasn't big enough or strong enough to carry a bell that could have been enclosed in a tent or something. And the river was too far. Still, I thought of everything, but nothing really explained the sound apart from one obvious thing which I just didn't feel comfortable with. For some reason I knew it had to have been a person. I stopped thinking about it and just walked on normally until I found a badger. A bloomin dead one, carefully decapitated. It had obviously been done with a knife. It was still fairly fresh, the body was still limp and there wasn't too much smell coming from it. The wound was full of maggots, but I knew that happened soon after exposure. The sound of the bill had been following the stream. So had I. So the badger was put there, maybe even killed there, at least decapitated while I was walking that way, I suppose. I don't know really. Nothing else happened that day. One week later I went back for the second time that summer and the last time ever I left home at around 6pm I made it to the stream and then walked to the river in an hour. Then decided to go back the way I came because it was getting late and was raining quite heavily. The sun set at around 9pm I was walking as fast as I could. The sound of the rain in the trees was surreal and loud. I was somewhat trotting with my head down for a while through the clearest and most open part of the forest when I bumped into something heavy. The smell was sickly. It was the decomposing body of the badger with his head strung to his front poles. That area looked a bit like a ham because of the way it was tied. Just swinging from a tree like an almost literal load of bollocks. It was this putrid bag of stench, wet and dripping green liquid. I had started gagging. I had some sort of mucus textured fluid in my hair. It was repulsive. At first I just stared at it, slightly gobsmacked. Then I started fidgeting violently because I felt like I was drenched in its juices. I was soaking from the rain. My senses became confused. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been thrown over me. When I realized that I'd walked the same way to get to the river. So someone had strung up the body after I'd passed it on the way there. Someone knew that I'd seen it. So was someone watching me. And running around the forest were the faint sounds of the branches breaking around me, not animals. I looked around and started jogging. I was half running, half walking away from the stream back towards the path for a while when I heard the bell again. I proceeded to call my dad while running. I told him to meet me on the path where it sharply turns west. It was the closest part of the path to me. And I told him to go as fast as he could. And that someone was in the forest. I can't explain the feeling I had. It was like I just crapped out my intestines and stomach. I literally felt the hairs on my neck rise despite being soaked. It was dark. I jogged as fast as I could. I was panicking because the path was still a bit far away. Just too far to feel safe. It was still raining. Every single sound was muffled. I felt like everything was further away than ever before. The bell went on for way longer than the last time. On and off. I felt like it was surrounding me. At one point, the fear, combined with my compromised hearing and the fact that I couldn't flipping breathe properly was making me slightly lose my sense of direction. I was automatically heading southwest. But I really wasn't sure what I was even doing. I was breathing like a dang horse, coughing my lungs up, kind of crying out loud like a toddler does. Tripping over leaves and twigs like an idiot. I stayed on the phone with my mom, who was on her way with my dad. I kept hearing sounds, but I wasn't sure what they were. My mom was screaming on the phone. At the same time that they were on the path, that I needed to run, that my dad had gotten out, and that he was heading east from the path bend. I was terrified. So I went into survival mode. I was doing the half running, half speed walking thing again because I was so out of breath. Then I heard branches break clear, footsteps for the first time from down in the forest, and the bell ringing louder. I didn't want to, but I looked over my shoulder. That's when I saw what was in the forest with me. A tall figure creeping in my direction at the very end of the clearing, bringing this bell slowly in front of his stomach. I could tell he was staring straight at me. Now, I don't know if I had a hidden secret sprinting ability or instinctual, adrenaline induced superhuman powers, but when I tell you I ran for my life, I freaking didn't look back even once. I screamed as much as I could. I lied. I'm on the phone with the police right now. They're on the path. Dad, I can see you. I'm here. I wanted to yell, dad, please, where are you? But I kept that to myself. I felt like something awful was going to happen. I felt like the man was right behind me. I kept telling myself not to look back. I was gasping and wheezing, crying so hard and screaming for my dad. I felt shivers on my neck and then switched off. I just ran. I even dropped my bag and only realized that I didn't have it anymore. When I was in the car, I felt like my phone was my only way home. Things no longer felt real. It was like my legs were moving by themselves. I didn't know if the man was still following me. I could only hear my own heart beating in my ears. In the bell. I finally heard my dad shout my name. And I knew that he was coming my way and that he could see me. Because of the intonation of his voice. I pretty much lunged at him. When we got to each other, my dad heard the bell too. My mom could hear it on the phone. She was waiting with the car, ready to leave fast. And we got the hell out of there. I never went back. And I'm never going to again. The story ended up being much longer than I had originally anticipated, and I apologize for the long read. I will say that in all the years I've told this story, people usually respond with, wow, that's the craziest thing I've ever heard. So I hope you take the time to enjoy it. The story occurred in the summer of 2008 I grew up in Oregon and was acquainted with the outdoors at an early age. My favorite hobby came to be hiking, particularly in areas that are either very dangerous or isolated. The health benefits of hiking were secondary to the thrills of walking the edges of exposed cliffs. Being in cougar and bear territory, and knowing that I was far from help. Into the Wild was released in the fall of 2007 and I immediately fell in love. Being a high school senior, I could barely go another week living at my parents house. The movie spoke to my sense of adventure and inspired me to hike the California portion of the Pacific Crest Trail. Upon graduation I made it from the Mexico border to Northern California without much incident. I saw rattlesnakes and black bears experienced dehydration, but nothing happened that made me fear for my life. Somewhere in the Lassen National Forest in northeastern California, I walked around a bend in the trail only to be startled by two people sitting on a rock. Dressed in nearly all white, their faces were dirty, their appearance disheveled, and the man had a long unkempt beard. Both seemed to be in their 40s. They looked like the couple who kidnapped Elizabeth Smart. What struck me as odd about the encounter was encountering anybody at all. I frequently went days without seeing a single human being. Their wide clothes could be explained away by the need to escape the California summer sun. Their scruffy appearance could be explained away by the fact that most thru hikers abandoned personal hygiene on the trail. After I said hello, they said nothing and simply just watched me as I passed. Even that I didn't find too odd. I chalked it up to them being foreign and not knowing what to say. I camped a few hundred yards off the trail that night as I always did. Following bare precautions. I hung the leftover food I had cooked that night from a tree approximately five feet off the ground. Packing up camp in the morning, I noticed the food wasn't there. I immediately thought a bear had entered my campsite and so I began to look for paw prints. I didn't find any paw prints, but I did find boot prints circling the campsite. Two pairs of them. One of these prints led right up the rope from which the food was hanging. I thought of the couple I'd passed earlier and everything clicked. I quickly packed up and left. My mind was racing the entire day, but I figured the couple was just simply hungry. If they had nefarious intentions, they would have come for more than just the food. Several days passed and my mind was at ease again. I had begun to circle my campsite with sticks to wake me in the event of an intruder, animal or otherwise. I awoke in my tent one night to the sound of those sticks crunching. I grabbed my hunting knife. I tried to relax by telling myself that in the middle of nowhere, the source of that noise is much more likely an animal than a person. Then I heard frantic whispering. It was impossible to tell which direction the voices were coming from, though being in the dark, surrounded by trees a hundred miles from the nearest city plays tricks on your senses. I debated yelling out, claiming to have a gun, but instead decided to be silent and retain the benefit of surprise. I heard footsteps circling my tent and I was ready to slash at whatever opened it. But just like that, it was over. No more footsteps, no more whispering. I lied there, frozen awake in my tent until sunrise, and opened my tent to find nobody there. The only evidence something had actually happened were the boot prints, the same as before. Several more days passed and I was now in Shasta National Forest, probably 50 to 75 miles from where I first encountered the couple. The trail became more or less a goat trail. Being on the side of a mountain and above the tree line, I could see the trail winding for miles in front of and behind me. I stopped for water in the rear shade and noticed two hikers miles behind me. All I could see were two white dots moving along the mountainside. I immediately said out loud, screw this. This trip is over. I pulled out my map and looked for the nearest town, which appeared to be Castella, located off I5. The only problem was that it was 25 miles away. I hiked well into the night, trying to gain as much ground as possible. I kept losing the trail and decided to set up camp, this time far off the trail and into the forest. I got in my tent and tried to sleep, but every little noise kept me awake. After a few hours in my tent, I heard the tell tale signs of another bad night. The footsteps, the whispering, the sticks breaking. Sound travels far in the absence of other sound. I knew they were close, but wasn't sure how close. All I could think was, this is messed up. This is so messed up. Damn it. Finally, a flashlight hits my tent, lights up the entire thing and goes dark. I unzimmed my tent and climbed out, carrying my knife, yelling nonsense in the dark. It was sort of like that cliche scene in movies where people in the wilderness hear sticks breaking around them and then the camera pans around the trees because the people have no idea which direction the sound is coming from. Then I heard footsteps running towards the tent and barely made out a figure moving in my peripheral vision. I turned and ran deep into the forest. I tripped several times and ran into several trees. After running for approximately five minutes, I tripped, rolled, and came to rest next to a downed tree. I got under the tree truck and laid still. I saw the flashlight moving around in the distance. I laid under that tree for hours. I was certain they were gone, but I didn't move. Eventually, birds started to chirp and I knew sunrise would come soon. Once it did, I made my way back to the trail, abandoned my campsite and I walked the rest of the distance to Castella where the Pacific crest trail crosses i5 I hitchhiked my way to the town of Mount Shasta and spoke with the police and Forest Service. They put me in a motel for the night. I and my parents drove from Oregon to pick me up the next day. I followed up with the police and Forest Service months later who told me that there had been similar reports of items disappearing from campsites all throughout the surrounding national forests. However, there had been no reports of the terrorizing that I experienced. As far as I know, nothing ever came of the couple. I live in a small rural community in the eastern United States. It's a nice little town. Because of my work in the medical field, I've met some interesting folks. I'm also familiar with law enforcement and emergency personnel. Small town life is not as dull and uneventful as people think, especially since everybody knows somebody who knows somebody. I have a lot of stories to share, but since this one just happened, I'll start here. Because it's still very recent and the investigation is ongoing. I have to be vague with some details, but I needed to tell someone. I'm single and I live alone. Due to a stalker. I've moved twice, but that's another story for another time. However, it is relevant for this story for multiple reasons. The first reason being that I have a dog for the sake of protection as well as have motion sensors and outdoor security cameras. The second reason being the location of my home, which is literally down the street from the fire department and a couple of blocks away from the police station. I can see the fire department from my living room window. However, next to the fire department is the road department, which is basically a parking lot where they park their road equipment and empty garbage trucks at night and on weekends. Oddly, it doesn't have a security camera. Small town life, I suppose. My house sits on a hill with a good view of that side of the street due to the incline. The large Trees in the front yard and the half cornfield on the property next to me. Most of the people on the street below me wouldn't notice me in the backyard unless they were actively looking. However, I can see the street clearly. This incident happened Saturday evening. The county was holding its annual Independence Day spiel with a community barbeque, music, fireworks, etc. I didn't attend because it's just really not my thing. Plus, I have a dog and the sound of fireworks could be traumatizing. Before the big show, I took the dog out to relieve herself in the backyard. There was still at least an hour of daylight, but the entire neighborhood was pretty quiet because mostly everyone was at the fairgrounds or various other holiday events. So when an unfamiliar large white pickup drove slowly down the street, I noticed it must have turned around at the end of the street because I saw it again moving in the opposite direction only about 20 seconds later. This time, it turned into the parking lot of the road department. Now, people have been known to toss things into the empty garbage trucks, usually at night, to avoid getting caught because they don't want to or are unable to make the trip to the landfill themselves. Usually it's things like furniture or broken equipment, but I didn't see any of those things in the back of this truck. The driver was a somewhat stocky guy of average height. He took three large black trash bags from the bed of his truck and then he tossed them one by one into the hopper of the garbage truck. Then he left. Now, I swear I'm not one of those meddling rear window types who always thinks activity is suspicious and that their neighbors are up to no good. But something about this didn't sit right with me. Normally, when I see people tossing their garbage into the trucks and leaving, I don't bother reporting it because it's relatively harmless. But this time I had a gut feeling. So I called the police. If anything, they could get the guy for illegally dumping trash from a barbecue or whatever. While I'm on the phone with dispatch, I put my dog inside to cut down on distractions while the officers investigate. A few minutes later, an officer arrived and I crossed the street to meet him. I gave him a description of the events and pointed out which of the trucks the man had tossed the bags. He found the bags. He took photos. He put on gloves and told me to stay back. The bags were tied in a knot at the top and it took him a minute to untie one of them because of the gloves and how tight the knot was. But eventually he got it open and looked inside for a few seconds, then twisted it closed and took a few steps back. Damn, he hissed under his breath. What? What is it? I asked. It's a body. I felt sick. I could tell he felt sick too. I saw him grow pale. His hand was trembling when he held the radio. Even his voice was shaking as he gave the code to dispatch. The dispatcher sounded confused when she asked him to repeat it. Within 10 minutes, the county sheriff was on the scene. Even he looked sick at the contents of the bag. The Coroner arrived about 10 minutes after that, and the officer walked me back to the house along with another one who arrived at the same time as the coroner. Though I showed the first cop via the app on my phone when I described the events initially, I now showed them the video on a larger screen. The camera caught footage of the truck as it drove by both times, as well as pulling into the parking lot, though unfortunately not a clear view of the license plate or of the man tossing the bags out of the frame. We watched the footage over and over, pausing frames, the officers taking notes. Ultimately, they requested this footage, as well as a copy of the files from the past week to see if the truck had been to the area before. I've also been saving footage until the road department installs their own camera this week. Because this is still fresh. I don't know many more details. I know that the body was in pieces, but I don't know the age of the victim, the gender, cause of death, or any of that. The information hasn't been released to the public. I don't even know if the coroner has been able to identify the body yet. A police cruiser has been parked at the fire department next door for constant surveillance in case the guy comes back. The guy who dumped the body was likely a local. How else would he know he could dump there? He probably thought he'd get buried in other people's illegal trash accumulated over the holiday weekend, and the sanitation crew wouldn't have bothered to investigate. When I think about how this guy probably lives in my community, it makes me physically ill to think that he had clearly scouted the area for a dump site, that it may not have been the first time that this had happened, that this could happen again. If I hadn't called it in, if I hadn't been in the backyard at the exact moment, or if I had ignored that gut feeling, the victim would have never been found, may never find potential justice. Their loved ones may never have closure. In fact, there's a possibility that it just might happen again to another poor soul. I hope it's not me. Dear God, please don't let it be me. I think it's time I moved again. Third time's a charm. Ryan Temporary housing acquired I'm moving out. I've been trying to decide whether to post something about this and where none of the home security subs really fit or have posts like this. I think I just need some subjective feedback on how to deal with this using my throwaway account because I don't want people to know the layout of my house. Sorry for the length and thank you for any advice. So my partner and I just moved to a desert community in the American Southwest. I've always wanted to live down here and so far I absolutely love it. I love the quiet living on the outskirts of town with desert to the horizon in my backyard, how friendly people are, the stars at night, the wildlife, the space. I'm not bothered by the occasional snake or scorpion or coyote out in my yard, but recently I've been getting the feeling that there have been other creatures in my yard as well. Even if I'm not imagining it, I don't know if this is worth doing something about or what I can even do. I'll explain My partner got a lucrative job offer from a hospital here where he covers the night shift for his specialty at most of the local hospitals in three states. Small hospitals in remote areas often offer nice incentives to bring people in from larger cities, and since we were looking to move here anyway, we decided to take the position for a couple of years and see if I could find a job in my field here in the meantime. At the moment I'm working remotely and I stay on the night shift to be able to see my fiance more. We get up 2 3pm and he goes to work early enough for me to run around to do any shopping and chores in the afternoon and he gets back at work at 5am and then we head to bed at around 7am it's an intense schedule, but he has every other work week off. This is important later on. So after 5pm I'm home alone all day at the duplex that we rent from an elderly couple down the block. We used to have a medical resident living on the other side, but she would never talk to us and she just moved out. Apparently she tore the place apart so there are contractors working in the other side during the day most days, so I sit at the kitchen table and work during the night, occasionally going out to walk our old dog, get the mail, or to water the plants in the courtyard. The entire house is visible from the courtyard because there are windows and glass doors leading to basically every room from there. From here, I'll just detail the incidents as they've occurred with minimal editorializing. 14 weeks ago I went back to sleep after my apartment left for work. About an hour later, at one point I woke up and I realized that my dog had been barking for an unusually long time and doing this danger kind of bark. The lawn guy and delivery folks come into our courtyard and we just moved in, so I figured it's something like that. Still, he knows the delivery guy is in neighbors by now and they usually leave pretty quickly. He must have been barking for two minutes by now. I sit up in bed and look out into the courtyard. There's a man that I don't recognize and he's acting weird. He looks kind of like Willem Dafoe. He's near the front door trying to look into the windows, around the side, looking into windows, progressively getting further from the door. Without thinking, I call out I'll be right there. Thinking he needs a signature or something. The guy steps back, quickly turns around and then speed walks out of the courtyard. As he does so, he gives me this extremely malevolent stare. I have never quite seen anything like it before. It startled me because he looked right at me dead in the eye through the window and just look disgusted and hateful. But during the day you can't see through the blinds from the outside. I've checked. How did he know where I was? I admit this event freaked me out and may have laid the groundwork for my impressions of the potentially perfectly normal events outlined below. I flashback to this moment regularly. For some reason two, three weeks ago, strange stuff started to happen. My partner offers to work some extra shifts on what would normally be his week off, so I'm often home alone. A few times I hear what I think it must be one of my elderly neighbors around the side of the house, and when I go over, there's nobody there. I started to hear someone walking around the outside of the house at night. The area is surrounded by gravel, so unless someone steps slowly, you can hear things moving around. When I'm laying in bed working on things a few times, I become acutely aware of noise just outside of the bedroom window. Late at night, I start checking the area with the flashlight. When I go outside, I hear bipedal footsteps on the roof multiple times during periods when the neighbors confirm that no contractors are supposed to be up there. Often at night, the feeling of being watched a lot at night begins and I start leaving the outdoor lights on all night while I'm there, especially in the courtyard. I don't take showers alone because I sometimes hear footsteps on the roof when I'm in there and there's a skylight over the shower. I research, buy and install a security system and a couple of cameras in the courtyard. 3. 2 weeks ago this is when things get more serious. I pulled into my parking space and see one of the elderly neighbors peering into my bedroom window in the afternoon. I greet him and he says he's going around the side of the house to activate the sprinkler system that happens to have the hub on our property. Unclear if this is related. I put up opaque clings in the windows of the bedroom to block some of the light when we're sleeping during the day. As soon as I do, I stop feeling watched from the bedroom window but begin feeling uncomfortable that my view of the courtyard is now obscured. I feel better for two days. The next night I started feeling watched from the living room windows while I'm working and eventually from the kitchen window. Especially that night I had a small panic attack and spent a lot of time in bed under the covers with my dog in the room with me. I don't know the source of my discomfort and I keep telling myself that I'm being paranoid and chalk it up to reading some creepy stuff that I read the week before. I have to cancel an event because I'm up all day unable to sleep due to extreme anxiety. I talked about at length with my partner about getting more cameras, but we don't have the money and I'm still in denial about the reasons for my discomfort, so I drop it. Stuff in the courtyard is sometimes moved around and I watch the camera to figure out the neighbor woman did it. Beer cans and some other stuff is found around the property that isn't ours, but I think it's the wind. Things related to our cars and garbage cans start being messed with, but you can see around for miles and there aren't really many people here. I hear tapping on a window and ignore it. 4 Last week we were traveling for part of the week and when we got back we were in good spirits. My partner went right back to work and my nights became predictable, feeling good and doing things until a few hours after it gets dark. Suddenly feeling crappy, not wanting to do things that put me near the windows, I decided to curl up in my bed with my dog in my room and refuse to move until my partner Gets home. This has happened every night this week. Finally I noticed my dog kept staring at the kitchen window with both ears facing toward it, ignoring commands or questions for long periods of time. My very curious cat repeatedly kept trying to see something outside of it as well during the night. This finally jogged me back to reality and I realize that I feel this oppressive sensation of being watched every night starting at around 10pm and continuing until dawn. It's mostly from the kitchen window, but honestly, the whole house freaks me out now. There isn't really anywhere to run that doesn't have windows except the garage or bathroom. I take my phone and a knife with me everywhere I go. I constantly check the courtyard because every room has a door leading to it. Tonight I took my dog out and I heard someone walking towards us from the side of the house and I called out and shined the flashlight over there, but it stopped and I saw nothing. Normally I would have gone to investigate, but I had the strongest feeling that I shouldn't. The same thing happened later in the evening when I took the dog out. Yesterday around midnight, someone was coming across the field that I took him to with the flashlight and when they got near me, they shut off the flashlight and I didn't see them after that. They didn't respond to my calling out. I feel like I'm in a slow motion horror movie. But during the day and my partner's weeks off, everything is usually fine. So I don't know what to think. I can't tell whether any of this is real or not. I don't have any close friends here. I'm planning to buy a camera and motion lights for the back when I have money next week. But, and I know this sounds crazy, I don't know if that's a good idea. I think whoever it is, once I've seen them, they're going to escalate. I don't know why. I think that my partner wants me to get my concealed carry and another younger dog. This isn't known to be an unsafe area at all, but the properties are spaced pretty well. Please give me your honest advice about this and thank you for your time. I wanted to provide some additional information. I'm a mid-30s female who's not easily spooked. I've worked in law enforcement in search and rescue and I feel confident in my ability to defend myself. The landlady was very insistent that we not change the locks. She said that a cleaning person who stole some of their things had a key to the lower one so to not use that one and to just use the deadbolt for which supposedly only she and I have keys. The only other thing that happened last night after I wrote this post was that I was sitting in my normal spot and then heard a cough at around 2am and I got chills. Then I was like why am I so freaked out? And then about four seconds later I remembered that there was no one in the other unit and I was supposed to be alone. It sounded like it came from the kitchen window. It sounded like an old man coughing, if that's a thing. So screw that noise. I've purchased a bunch of equipment, but I didn't make it back in time before sundown to put it all up, so I'm hoping this is my last night without outdoor cameras. A few minor things happened today. First, this woman drove by the house and slowed down and took photos. Twice. She took photos of me in the yard and everything. I assume it's because they're listing the other unit. My mail wasn't there today even though I got a USPS informed delivery thing. It was just flyers, so maybe it was a mistake and it'll be there tomorrow. I don't know, but it's usually there the same day. Also, when I was coming back just after dusk, I heard something digging in the plants behind my courtyard wall. It sounded big, maybe a person or a dog. I called out and nothing replied. I've spoken to the police and I'm going to send them some more information tonight. My name's Beth and I've always liked being outdoors. There's something about walking, especially alone, that calms me. It helps clear my head. I live in a small, quiet town in Florida where things don't usually happen. People leave their doors unlocked here, smile at each other in the grocery store, and spend weekends at the park with their kids. It's peaceful and that's why I love the trail. It's a two mile path behind the community park, surrounded by trees and just far enough from traffic to make you forget you're in town. I went there almost every day during lunch hour. The sun was always high, the trail quiet, Just me and my thoughts and the sound of my own sneakers on the gravel. That Tuesday started like all the others. I filled up my water bottle, grabbed my keys and drove to the small parking lot at the trailhead. The air was warm and sticky, typical Florida weather, and a few clouds drifted across the blue sky about 10 minutes in. And that's when I saw him. He was walking from the opposite direction, medium height maybe in his 40s, with messy brown hair and wearing jeans. Despite the heat, as we passed, he had slowed down a little. Good afternoon, he said. Name's Chuck. I gave a quick, polite nod, a hi there. Then I kept walking. It wasn't that strange. People on trails sometimes greet each other. I didn't think twice about it, but the next day, there he was again. This time, however, he was sitting on a bench along the path. He stood up as I walked by. Hey, it's Beth, right? He asked. I blinked. Um, how did you know my name? You told me yesterday, he said casually. But I knew that I hadn't. Something about him felt different this time. I nodded slowly and kept walking, my pace a little faster than before. That moment stuck with me for the rest of the day. Over the next week, I saw him more and more. Some days he'd just be ahead of me on the trail. Other times he'd showed up behind me. He never said anything threatening, but it felt wrong. He'd hum quietly, comment on my clothes, or mention that he liked how I always came around the same time. So I had started changing my schedule, walking earlier rather than later. But somehow he was always there. Like he knew. One day I got to the trail and didn't even get out of the car. I just sat there, staring at the entrance. No sign of him. I thought that maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe he just liked walking, too. So I got out, took a short walk, and returned to my car, feeling relieved. That is, until I then saw a note on my windshield. It was a scrap of notebook paper, handwriting, sharp and uneven. I like your routine. See you soon. My hands shook as I crumpled it up. The parking lot was empty, just trees and the sound of birds. I didn't go back after that. I spent the next week locking my doors twice, peeking out my windows, and jumping at small sounds all around my apartment. I kept the note folded and hidden in a drawer, not sure if I should report it or pretend it never happened. But the trail haunted me. I missed it. So one cloudy Monday, I decided to take it back. I dressed in a hoodie and sunglasses to blend in and tucked a small can of pepper spray in my pocket. No music, just silence. Just me listening. The trail was empty when I arrived. Everything looked normal, peaceful, even. I was about halfway through when I heard the footsteps steady behind me. I turned. It was Chuck. He was walking quickly, his eyes locked onto me. This time he wasn't smiling. Beth, he said, like I had done something wrong. You weren't supposed to stop coming. I backed up A step. Leave me alone. I just wanted to talk, he said we were getting along. I never wanted to talk to you. He stepped closer. I pulled out the pepper spray. Don't come any closer. He tilted his head, confused, like I was the one acting strange. I'm not gonna hurt you. Then he lunged at me. I screamed and sprayed him full on in the face. He screamed, too, dropping to his knees and clawing at his eyes. I then turned and ran. Branches whipped past me. My chest burned. I didn't stop. I heard him behind me, cursing, crashing through the brush. Then, up ahead, I saw two people, a man and a woman, jogging toward me. Help. I yelled. They froze, and seconds later, Chug burst out from the trail behind me. The man stepped between us while the woman pulled out her phone and called 911. Chug stopped, panting, still wiping his face. She. She attacked me, he mumbled. Hey, man, back away, the man said firmly. Don't move. Chug had actually tried to take off at this point, but the other man was huge, like 6 foot 5, over 240 pounds, if I had to guess. And he held Chuck down on the ground until the police showed up, which was only about another 10 minutes. I gave them everything. The notes, the time I saw him, the way he followed me. I had to talk to the police at the station, though, and give a statement on everything that happened. Turns out Chuck had actually gave a full confession to them. Chuck had been staying in an old abandoned cabin in the woods that was near the trail. Not only that, but he wasn't even from around here. He was a drifter who had decided to settle in Florida for a bit. Oh, and his name isn't even Chuck. It's Bradley. When the cops asked why he called himself Chuck, he told him that it was his way of being anonymous when passing through. Well, good job messing that up, buddy. He said that he was going to eventually move on, but then he saw me for the first time on the trail and decided that he couldn't leave, that he wanted me. He actually told the cops that he was, of course, arrested. The cops also told me that he hasn't worked in years. He spent the last three years of his life just hitchhiking through random states. He also had a history of stalking his exes. Big shocker there. I pressed charges and got a restraining order for obvious reasons. It took time, but eventually I returned to the trail. I walk it now with a different mindset. I carry my pepper spray in one pocket and my phone in the other, and I always, always look behind me. It's really nice to be able to go back because like I've said, I love it and it really is my place to escape the world and just relax and enjoy myself. I'm so glad to finally be done with Chuck. My name is Drew and this is the story involving myself, my girlfriend Chelsea, and our dog, Rocco, when we went camping in the Appalachian Mountains. For some background, I'm 25 and Chelsea is 23. Here's the story. Last fall we decided we needed a break from work, the city noise and people. We were exhausted. We had been dating for almost three years, living in a small apartment outside of Asheville, North Carolina, and while life was steady, it had also become a little too routine. So we picked a weekend in October, packed our gear and headed for the mountains. The Appalachian stretch north of us had dozens of trails and little known campsites tucked away from the more crowded parks. I found a spot on an old camping forum. Nothing official, just a few GPS coordinates and a note that it was quiet, flat and by a creek. It sounded perfect. We left early Saturday morning with our dog, Rocko, our tent and sleeping bags and way too many snacks. Rocco, our golden retriever, was practically vibrating with excitement in the backseat, his tail thumping against the window. He always knew when an adventure was coming. The drive up was beautiful. Sunlight cutting through red and orange leaves, the road twisting like a ribbon through the forest. It took us about two and a half hours before we reached the narrow dirt road that led to the trailhead. There were no other cars around, just the three of us in the quiet woods. We hiked about a mile and a half in before we found the clearing. It really was perfect, just like the post said. Flat ground, fire pit built from old stones, tree space, just enough to hang a tarp if we needed to. We could hear a small creak running nearby, the kind of peaceful white noise that makes everything else just fade. Chelsea looked around and smiled. This feels like our own little world, she said. We set up the tent, gathered firewood, and we let Rocco off the leash. He ran in wild circles, nose to the ground, tail wagging just non stop. I remember Chelsea laughing as he had splashed into the creek and came out dripping wet. I hadn't seen her in that light in a while. That first night was everything we needed. We roasted hot dogs, made s', mores, and we sat by the fire watching the flames dance. We talked about our dreams, moving to a place with more land, maybe even a dog friendly house. One day we fell asleep inside the tent with Rocco curled up between Us, warm and peaceful. The next day was pretty much just as good. We hiked, took photos of the fall colors, and we found a small waterfall off trail that looked like something out of a postcard. That night we made soup over the fire and drank cider from a thermos. Rocco curled up by our feet while we watched the stars blink. Awake. It felt like the kind of trip we'd always remember. But that changed on our second night. It was late, probably close to 1am when I woke up. I didn't know why at first. Everything was still and quiet, except for the distant rush of the creek. I thought maybe it was just the cold seeping in, or Rocco shifting positions. But then I noticed he wasn't asleep. He was sitting upright at the edge of the tent, ears perked, head tilted. Chelsea stirred next to me. What's wrong? She whispered. I didn't answer. I was listening too. And then I heard it. A slow, quiet scraping sound. It was coming from just outside the tent wall. At first I thought it was just wind rubbing a branch against the nightline. But there was no wind this night. The air was dead still and the sound was way too smooth, too controlled. It sounded like a scraping sound. Then I paused. Then it happened again. It moved, trailing slowly across the side of the tent, like someone was dragging something sharp. Rocko then let out a low growl, not loud, but deep and steady. He didn't bark. He just stared at the tent wall, stiff as a board. Chelsea sat up, her voice tight. Drew, what is that? I moved slowly toward the zipper of the tent, my heart thudding in my chest. My hand shook as I reached for the flashlight. The scraping stopped. I waited a few seconds, then yanked the zipper down and shoved the flap open, shining the light Outside. Nothing. Just darkness and trees. I stepped out, sweeping the beam across the clearing. I didn't see anyone. No movement, no flashlight. Not even the sound of retreating footsteps. Just the rustle of dry leaves. Rocco bolted out behind me, barking wildly, darting toward the trees. I followed him a few yards in, but stopped when my flashlight caught nothing but brush. No one. Chelsea was still in the tent, calling out for me. I brought Rocco back, both of us on itch, and then zipped up the tent again. We had stayed awake for the rest of the night, huddled together, waiting, listening. We heard nothing else. When the sun finally rose, we stepped out to pack up. Everything looked undisturbed, but on the back side of the tent, scratched into the nylon with something sharp, were three still watching you? Chelsea was so shocked, she put her hand over her mouth. I felt like my chest had been filled with ice. We didn't speak much after that. We tore down our camp, stuffed everything into our bags, and made the hike back to the car in near silence. Rocco stayed close, ears flicking at every sound. We drove home with the windows rolled up and the doors locked. I checked the rearview mirror at least a dozen times, half expecting someone to be following us, but the road stayed empty. Back at our apartment, we stood in the living room with our gear still in our bags. Chelsea just shook her head and said, let's never go back there. I agreed. We haven't gone camping since. Sometimes I think it was just a prank, some stranger messing with us. But then I think about how quiet it was, how we didn't hear a single footstep, how the writing on the tent was at eye level, clean, intentionally placed where we wouldn't see it until morning. Whoever it was, they were close, too close. And they knew exactly what they were doing. Around 2007, I was getting my PhD at the University of Florida. I, a 30 year old female, lived in Gainesville in a condo that I owned by myself. I had a friend who was walking across the United States. We'll call him Captain. Captain decided to spend the winter at my house, so he got a mutual friend to drive him from Alabama, where he had last stopped walking, to my house in Gainesville. We had a pleasant Thanksgiving and then Captain just kind of chilled at my house for the next several months. It wasn't too big of a deal because I was mostly just staying at my boyfriend's house, but it was a little bit much. When it was time for him to get back to walking, he asked if I would drive him back to the exact location that he had left in Alabama. Looking forward to having my house back, I agreed to drive him one day when I was out of school. I don't remember what route we took or where it was, but I remember that the drive wasn't that long. Relatively speaking, it seems like it should have been, but I guess it was about five, six hours one way. I dropped him off early in the evening and headed back for Florida. This meant that I was driving at night by myself in an unknown part of the country. Conveniently, the GPS technology that we had at the time gave me this extremely backwards route back to Florida to get to where I had dropped off. Captain. We stayed on the freeway for most of the time, and then it was about 10 miles off the freeway. Well, Google Maps, or whatever the app was, had decided that the faster way was to Take me on all these little back roads through Alabama backcountry. Some serious Deliverance vibes. Seriously. So I'm already freaked out a little and occasionally checking in with my boyfriend to let him know where I am. I've driven at night alone tons, but my history with respect to strangers has made me hypervigilant. At some point I became aware that there was a car behind me. I didn't assume that was anything weird until the car stayed with me for several miles. Again, I just shoved it off to maybe Google Maps, giving them the same weird route. But because I was paying attention to the car behind me, I didn't notice when I pulled through some small town that I was taking a left at the wrong intersection. There were two intersections very close together and I was accidentally in the left turn lane to turn left of the intersection before the one I was supposed to turn at. No biggie. I figured it's like two in the morning. So when the light changed, I drove straight through the intersection and took a left at the next intersection. The car behind me did the same thing. I realized at that point that I was definitely being followed. I immediately called my boyfriend and asked him to look up the not emergency police number for the area I was at. I tried to give him my nearest location, but like any dude who's never been the victim of any kind of assault, he thought I was overreacting. He was in the middle of something and therefore didn't even look up the number for me. In retrospect, I should have absolutely just called 911, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of something that could have been nothing, but that nothing was quickly becoming something indeed, because I'd been on the back roads in Alabama without a gas station for a long time and my car was in great need of gas. That meant that I would have to exit the vehicle at a gas station that was probably not well manned at this time of night by myself. I was low key, freaking out. It also didn't help that I couldn't see the driver of the car behind me. It was dark and the car had dark tinted windows. Also, Alabama backwoods roads are pretty dang dark. I kept looking in the rear mirror, but I couldn't get a glimpse of the driver. I honestly could not figure out why this person targeted me, and at first I had laughed it off as some kind of southern football vendetta. I had a UF license plate frame Go Gators. And I was trying to convince myself that this person was just trying to scare me because they liked one of our rival schools. Given that I am a tall woman, it may have been difficult to identify that I was a woman in the car. But either way, this person was clearly following me. And given that I had to stop my car, I was feeling increasingly at risk. Finally, my backwards woods route took me to a relatively larger metropolitan area. I was finally on streets with streetlights and businesses were still lit up. I started to feel safer, but I still had to stop for gas. I had already made a plan as far as that was concerned, but I wanted the guy behind me to know that I was on to him. So at the first intersection that was well lit, I turned fully around in my car seat and stared at him while pretending to talk on the phone. I did this for the entire time. The light was red. I wanted it to look like I was describing his car and his features to whoever was on the phone. Not long after this, I had found a gas station that was well lit up. I was driving on fumes and praying that I wouldn't run out of gas in backwoods Alabama. I pulled into the gas station so that my driver side door was adjacent to the door of the gas station. Then I jumped out and ran inside. I let the attendant know that I was being followed and he walked out from behind the counter and walked to the windows and said that no one was there. I was sure that the car had been behind me when I pulled into the station, but seeing that I ran inside, they must have driven off. I still have no idea what the guy's intention was, but he followed me for easily an hour and a half, like a hundred miles. It felt predatory as hell. Thankfully, I was able to gas up my car under the watchful eye of the gas station attendant and the attendant told me the quickest way to the freeway. My trip was uneventful after that, but I was still shaking and thoroughly pissed off at my boyfriend for not taking me seriously. Stay safe out there. It's been two years since I worked maintenance in two really shady apartments in Birmingham, Alabama. I had made such poor choices and my life was rock bottom. 200 bucks a week in a crappy apartment. Not bad for a struggling drug addict. I had been working with these apartments for about three months when I met Tony. He was an Average, high, late 30s, early 40s Native American man. He kinda came out of nowhere, but that's not uncommon in that kind of living situation. He dressed nicer than most in our situation, but other than that, he seemed normal. Now these apartments are under Code at best. Their whole purpose is to get the homeless off the street. So I was a little grateful for what little I had. But these units were in such terrible shape that Tony and I's job of maintenance is almost comical. Tony was very skilled in flooring and plumbing, and he was a pretty funny guy, real quiet, but he'd made quips every now and then with a northern accent. Over the next two months, Tony and I became friends, I guess. Well, if you can call it that. We worked together, lived next door to each other and used together. You see, Tony was very reserved until he did a line of coke. Then he'd start really opening up. He'd start talking about an Indian mafia up north in north, Midwest. He talked about how he was born into it. And I've gotta be honest, I was high and so was he. So I just started laughing because it just sounded so ridiculous. And I was pretty sure it was a joke. However, I'll never forget the look in his face and his eyes. It was this dead stare with a slight smirk, like he was somewhere else reliving something, and it was terrifying. I said, hey, man, if you ever need to talk. To which he then replied, nah, man, it's fine. Another life. Let's go get some coke. So we called up this guy and went to go meet him up the hill like usual. The guy's cousin called back and said, our dude got hemmed up. Then he hung up. Tony then said, damn, well, I know this other guy. And he proceeded to call him up. And as the guy rolls up, I kinda had this feeling in my stomach something wasn't right. Tony had our money and was leaning in the car. And that's when I heard Tony then yell, nah, screw that. And the guy tried to peel off. Tony had a death grip on this man, dragging him through the driver window. Tony screamed, you trying to stiff me, punk? He hit this man so hard, I swear he was trying to punch through his face. He wouldn't stop. Blood and flesh mixing with gravel on the ground. I then screamed, tony, stop. Screw this, man. Let's go. Screw you, man. Check his pockets. Tony yelled. I then said, I've got it, man. Let's just go, please. His face, his eyes, he just looked possessed. With one more kick to this broken man's head, we fled. We fled into the dark. What the hell have you done, Tony? What did you do? I'm a freaking white guy, bro. You're a Native American. We stick out, you idiot. They're going to freaking kill us. You've killed Us, man. I shouted with tears in my eyes. They won't do a damn thing. I punked him out. Besides, that little punk didn't see you. If he comes around again and flashes his 9 millimeter, I'll dome him. Tony said in a cold matter of fact tone of voice. His tone of voice sent chills down my spine. I've never met someone as terrifying as Tony in my life. The next morning he told me a bit more. Still totally coked out, mind you. Look, without saying too much, Tony told me that he worked in a series of Native American casinos as someone who dealt with loans and collections. If you couldn't pay up, Tony and another person like Tony would show up and handle it. He said things are different on the reservations. That's what people don't get as he then took a sip of his beer. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty fascinated with his stories. And I mean, come on, they were just stories, right? Over the next few months my worry that someone would come for us settled down some and we moved on with life. Fixing up apartments, doing drugs. Rinse and repeat. Until one day we were working on a sink, kind of tweaking a little. And up until this point I would listen to his Mafioso stories with a childlike wonder. But on this day he told a story that kind of made me feel sick. He told me about this Social Security scheme that basically consisted of him and his bosses cashing Social Security checks of people that had cashed in their souls. He said, yeah, we had six going until it started falling apart. Someone tipped off hey, y' all finished yet? The drunk tenant said. Yup. Tony smiled and said, cleaning up his tools. He smiled and walked out right by me. I was still stunned. From what I just heard, if he was telling the truth, then he's a cold hearted monster that's still also on the run. And if he's lying, then he's incredibly messed up in the head. At 3am that night I found out I was woken up by the loudest bang I'd ever heard. After the bang, a flood of blinding light filled the entire apartment complex. A lot of shouting from outside. What the hell's happening? I yelled to my elderly roommate. I ran to the front door and opened it to an armed and armored U.S. marshal and a sea of blue lights. Get back inside right now. The marshal said sternly with a rifle pointed downwards but definitely in my direction. So that's what I did. Seeing cops rush our apartment complex is nothing new, but this is the most intense I'VE seen. The next morning when I came outside I noticed Tony's door had been smashed in. Holy crap. I thought. While I was walking to the apartment manager's office, I asked what the hell happened last night? She proceeded to tell me that Tony had been on the run for quite a while and had somehow fooled his way into a government funded HUD apartment complex as well as a job with said government funded apartments with an assumed identity. She then turned to me and said with a shocked look, tony hurt a lot of people. Every hair on my body stood on end and all I could get out was oh, I'm not much for conspiracies, but there is nothing on the news about this arrest. I can't find anything on Google about it either. Then again, it's pretty embarrassing that a state funded homeless program let in an on the run fugitive and then paid him to work maintenance. I only mention this because we had a murder on the apartment grounds and what little news there was was so incredibly vague that you never really know where they were and were really careful to not mention that they were HUD houses. So yeah, I guess you never really know what's going on in the head of the man next to you When I was about 11, maybe 12, my family and I moved down to the middle of some abandoned strip mines in rural Alabama. It was awesome. Going swimming in quarries. Lots of abandoned equipment and cliff faces to climb keep caves and miles and miles of trails. There were abandoned dirt roads used by the mines. It was a lot to explore. The trade off was that there was a lot of venomous snakes and at night it was dark. No street lights, just the occasional porch light. Maybe every mile or so on the main road. One day in particular, my friend Pia and I were out on one of the dirt roads that went off to the side of the main road. We hadn't been down that road before, but it was like 10am On a bright summer day and we figured why not? We had gone maybe a mile down the road and came to a left hand turn. Beside that left turn and alongside the road we were walking on was a small lake. We walked up to the lake and we were watching small frogs and a turtle just swimming around and when I caught movement across the lake, I saw a man walking away from us heading up the hill. I poked pee and pointed. Who's that? Why's he out here? We were miles into the mines. No people anywhere, no houses nearby. We both stood up and as soon as we got right on our feet, he had stopped walking In a split second, he spun around and came running in our direction. We bolted and I mean ran like Forrest Gump. I looked back and he was running faster than any human I've ever seen. He covered the distance. He had to run down that hill and around the lake to get to us. That route was easily 300 yards. And he did this in like seconds. He grabbed me and we jumped off the road and into a ditch behind some bushes. I peeked out and he was maybe 30, 40ft from us, spinning around in the road, making this God awful grunting sound while he did so. And weirdly enough, I swear he had an entire cooked chicken in his hand. He was wearing completely destroyed overalls, dirty boots, and he had what I can only describe as a CRO Magnon brow. Huge. My memory might not be super accurate given how long it's been, but it seems like his forehead stuck out a good 4 inches over his eyes. He was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. He spun around in the road and started running back the way he came. We stayed there in that ditch for almost an hour, afraid to move, listening, watching, in case he was hiding and waiting. We crawled alongside the roadside all the way back to the main road. From there we walked, but we stayed in the treeline until we saw the main paved road. And then we ran. We ran all the way back home. We got home, told our fathers, and both of our fathers and P's older brothers loaded up and went looking for him. But they never found him. All these years later and it still haunts me. And oh yeah, my girlfriend recently took me out to her grandmother's house. It was to meet and spend time with her family. And where does dear old Grammy live? Right on the edge of those same strip mines. I told her the story and she looked really serious and said, y' all are lucky. There's all kinds of bad things that happen in those mines. So, yeah, every visit to Grandma means that the glock and the 12 gauge ride along with us. Anyway, that's my creepy encounter story. I forgot about this until I was telling my dad about riding this here. He reminded me of something. I had gotten beaten up really badly my last day of summer school. So to make me feel better, my parents bought me a Kawasaki motocross bike. My dad had an old Honda racing bike. So we tried to ride out there any chance we got. One day we're out deep in the mines and I saw a wooden crate off the road in the bushes. Me being a nosy kid, I walked over and looked inside. There was a ton of hay, a blanket and an old pillow. I called my dad over and showed him. I remember. Then he looked around and said if someone's living in that way out here they don't want to be found or bothered. Lets go home. We hopped on the bikes, rode home. No problems at all. But the weird thing is that my dad sat out on the porch with the light off most of the night just staring at the edge of the woods. Never said why. And I cannot believe I never put the two incidents together. But now I think I know. But apparently he never saw anything or anyone because he came in late that night, then he went to bed and never set out there again. I grew up in a small town in Alabama a little bit after I graduated high school When I was 18, I had started dating this guy in his early 20s from a nearby city. He was a very handsome, tall, muscular male that we'll call Sean for the sake of this story he told me on our first date then he used to be part of a very well known gang in the United States. Sean explained that he had only been part of this gang in his younger years because he had grown up in a bad area and hadn't really had any other options including being aware of gang signs associated with the said gang and having tattoos associated with the gang. And I did google to see if the tattoos and gang signs were in fact associated with said gang since I knew there are some people who like to lie about being ex gang members along with other things for some reason to seem cool. Sean didn't seem like the type to lie about that though. I gave Sean the benefit of the doubt because he didn't really give me any bad vibes. I remember that he was always a gentleman to me and he treated me very well. So of course I didn't really suspect anything about him. We dated for a few weeks before the night that I found out the truth about him. I was staying over at Sean's apartment one night and everything was seeming pretty normal. This was the first time I'd ever stayed the night at his apartment since I do tend to be a bit cautious, so regardless of his background it wouldn't have mattered. I just don't really like staying over at people's homes until I get to know them a bit more and I do have an at least three day rule. I'd been too busy before that to really stay over at his place. So that night when I was staying over, Sean's best friend was visiting for a bit and that's when the red flags started to show up. It did seem kind of weird to me to have a friend over when the girl you are seeing is staying over for the very first time. And it was revealed to me in private that Sean's friend was another ex gang member from a well known gang that is the enemy to the gang Sean had been a part of. Of course I can accept that people all have their backstories, but it was definitely just a weird thing to suddenly tell me out of the blue. Additionally, Sean had not even told me his friend would be at the apartment that day in the first place. And an additional note, Sean's friend did corroborate that he and Sean were both ex gang members. Then after Sean's friend had left, we were hanging out in his room and the guy had a literal arsenal in his room. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he had enough weaponry to arm a small militia. This included things like grenades, bulletproof vests, and an AK47 or a gun similar to it, just to name a few of the weapons that he had in his room. Needless to say, that was the second red flag of the day. That night we were in bed together and I can't remember what led him into revealing to me what he had said in our conversation. He confessed to me that he was still in fact part of the gang that he had told me. He said he was out of now. So of course I immediately am giving him this look like I'm sorry, what? Then he proceeded to go on and tell me that he was actually a hitman for the gang. And while he hadn't been active as a hitman as of lately, he would still accept hits if they were given to him. The entire time he said this, he just looked me dead in the eyes with the most deadpan, casual look, no feeling in his eyes, and he spoke like he was just talking about the weather. It was extremely creepy. And I knew right then that this guy was a straight up sociopath. I don't doubt that he was lying. I've met people who try to get clout by lying about things like this, and he was definitely not one of those types. I stayed the rest of the night and then left the next morning and I never talked to him again. I was definitely not going to keep dating someone like that. There's not really anything to the story after that. He never really tried to contact me after that. I'm sure that some people will probably wonder why I didn't just leave right after he told me he was a hitman, I didn't think it was a good idea to react strongly and immediately storm out of the apartment. I also didn't actually feel like he was a danger to me personally, but he definitely had the vibe of someone who had killed people. The reason why I recognized that kind of vibe is a whole nother story. He was always very polite to me, but regardless, there was no way I was going to keep dating him no matter how hot he was. So I'm a 13 year old male and I live somewhere in Alabama with my family. So my dog Boomer has some pretty good genes in his blood, so he's a good dog. He's a Doberman mixed with some sort of hound, so he has really good guard dog genes in him. And he's a hunting dog too. So Boomer had different sounds for different things. He has a whiny bark for when he needs something. He has this kinda deepish bark that's equivalent to hey, what's that? Then he has his aggressive bark when the thing he's barking at gets too close. And then there's the ghost howl, a chilling howl when he finds something. So I'm inside reading some stories on Reddit when I hear Boomer switching between his whiney bark and his deep bark. I go outside to check on him because he might be stuck and maybe he sees a dog or something. So I go outside and Boomer's looking at the area behind him while pacing back and forth while looking at me in the field area. I get closer to Boomer and his ears go back and the fur on his lower back stands up and he starts barking aggressively when I stupidly get too close to find out what he's barking at. And when I get out of Boomer's chain length, a man lunges at me and out of reflex I jerk backwards and back to Boomer. Boomer barks some more but the guy doesn't get the hint and he keeps coming at me. Boomer barks a final time before jumping up and biting his arm. The man screams in pain, alerting my grandma who looks out the kitchen window and sees everything that's happening. She calls the police while my grandpa comes outside with his gun ready. The man kicked my dog and then ran off into the night. The police never found the man, but he knows if he comes back he's getting bit and possibly shot. Who knows what would have happened if my dog wasn't a guard dog. And I want to mention to anyone who has a problem With Boomer being chained outside, I understand the frustration, but I'm only 13 and I don't really have a choice where Boomer stays. It's my grandpa's house and he decides. It was around 2004, I decided I'd had enough of the bitter cold Rocky Mountain winters. I'd spent most of my time since I was around 16 listening almost exclusively to Jimmy Buffett music, except for small breaks to listen to things like Journey's greatest hits. And he was pretty much my entire musical life. I would listen to him talk about these far off places and these great adventures and weird characters that he'd come across. I read his books, which talked about pretty much the same thing. I read interviews where, you guessed it, he talked about pretty much the same thing. So my young 22 year old brain was filled with these ideas that adventure was out there waiting for me, that all I had to do was go and find it. Why was I rotting away in a frozen hell when there was so much more to see in more tropical climates? And it is this thinking that led me to pack everything I own and stick my thumb out of the interstate. I was headed for Mobile, Alabama, which is Jimmy's hometown. Then I headed for Florida, where most of his songs are based. Then, well, the possibilities seemed endless. Maybe find work on a boat in exchange for passage to some place like Jamaica. You can go ahead and laugh at me, it's fine. It's been around 17 years. So wisdom and life experience has allowed me to see clearly how stupid I was. For all of this. I can take the ribbing. I've been getting grief over it for the better part of two decades. More on that later. My journey took me through Texas and Arkansas. There are many funny stories along this journey, like the time I was picked up in the desert by an old guy named Buddy in a hippie van. However, these stories are not the focus here because they aren't creepy and are not the focus. Along the way I also passed through Falk, Arkansas and learned about the Falk Monster. Fascinating little bit of folklore. There's a fairly detailed Wikipedia article on the subject if you're interested. So anyway, my journey took me down to South Louisiana in Interstate 10. When you head down the section of highway between Lafayette and Baton Rouge, you have to pass over the Atchafalaya Basin, which means crossing over 18 miles of swampland via bridge. According to Wikipedia, this bridge is the third longest in the US, second longest in the United States interstate system and the 14th longest in the world. That's a lot of bridge and the shoulder virtually non existent from what I've been told. Police are quick to nab anyone foolish enough to try crossing this bridge on foot, so I was stuck for hours on the Lafayette side of the bridge, attempting to thumb a ride across. Eventually I was successful, and this is where things take an unsettling turn. Of course. A white van pulled up when the door opened. There was no one in the vehicle but an old man. He looked to be in his late 60s or early 70s, quite obese and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. I climbed in and thanked him for stopping as we took off. When the Sun Goes down by Kenny Chesney and Uncle Cracker was playing on the radio. Due to the events that followed, I have forever lost any liking I had for that song. We were headed across this massive bridge with nowhere to stop and nowhere for me to go. The man started looking at me like a dog might look at a particularly meaty bone. It was making me uneasy already. Hey, boy, he said in a thick Cajun accent. You got a big dick. Excuse me? I asked. I looked back at him, then out the window of the moving vehicle. No escape route. I'll bet it's pretty big, he said, smiling at me. I really don't want to discuss this, I said. Nothing but guardrail on the right and swampland below. That jumping out would be deadly. I'd sure like to see it, he said. No, I don't think so, I replied. What I was thinking was you can wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which one fills up first. Undeterred, the man went on, I'd like to take you into the swamp. Oh hell. If I'd once thought that this situation couldn't get any worse, I would have been so, so incredibly mistaken. No, I don't think so, I repeated. Oh, come on, boy, he insisted. It'll only take about 30 minutes. Please understand that I'm making his English clearer for those reading. But it was thick Cajun. As I said before, it was more like it only take about 30 minute, which made it way, way creepier. At this point the man had asked to see my genitals and had expressed his desire to take me into the swamps. I couldn't help but wonder if he was even going to give me a choice, or if he was just going to take me there by force. If he did, I would be virtually helpless. I wasn't from there. I didn't know the area. I certainly didn't know the layout of the swamps. I would have been at his mercy for him to do with me as he pleased, and whatever it was that he was pleased with took a lot of forms in my mind. Would he take me somewhere and violate me and then feed me to the alligators? Would he hold me prisoner and torture me before killing me and feeding me to the alligators? Or would he just kill me immediately and then feed me to the alligators? For some reason, every single scenario involved the alligators. I don't want to go into the swamp with you. No, I said as firmly as my overwhelming fear would allow. As I'm here today writing this, it goes without saying that I didn't end up as gator bait. He didn't take me forcefully into the swamps. He didn't do anything to me physically. Psychologically, however, his terrifying comments were torture as the bridge went on and on and on for what seemed like forever. When we finally reached the other side and he let me out, I thanked him for the ride as politely as I could manage. When he pulled away, I could have fallen down and kissed the ground. I was safe. I was not dead. My journey continued for several days until I ultimately ended up in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. There was another incident before I got there where I was picked up in Walker, Louisiana, by a man who wasn't so creepy as he was potentially dangerous. By the time I ran into him, I was physically exhausted and dirty and hadn't had decent rest in days. When he and his wife offered to let me stay in their guest room for the night, I was so grateful to not have to sleep in the woods or in a ditch along the side of the road or in the bag booth of some diner that I took them up on it. Desperation and exhaustion will cloud a person's thinking. As we pulled away, he said in a genuinely friendly tone that I was welcome at his home and that he wasn't dangerous. I genuinely believed him until he pulled out a gun from between the seats and then warned me that I better not be dangerous either. Oh boy. Why did I still go with them? Exhaustion and desperation, like I said. So I'm in the guest room of this trailer in a comfortable bed for the first time, and I'm pretty sure it was a couple of weeks. I'm relaxing there when his sister comes over. I don't see them being in a bedroom, but I hear them in the living room. She's suicidal and wanting to die. That's all. She keeps talking about wanting to die and wanting to kill herself. Finally, I hear the man get up and snap. Do you want to die? He screams and he says it again. Then I hear a gunshot. Oh my God. There are several seconds there where I'm again terrified of what's about to happen to me. This man just shot his sister and I'm here in the house with him. I'm a potential witness. I look up at the window wondering if I can fit through it and escape. I cannot. Then I hear her speak up. You shot a hole in the ceiling. So apparently he hadn't actually shot his sister. He was just a trigger happy lunatic who had just shot a round into the ceiling to emphasize his frustration. To be fair, they were actually very nice people. After the commotion, I ended up staying overnight. Anyway, call me stupid if you like. I was really that tired. And anyways, his wife took me back to the interstate in the morning. We had a nice conversation along the way. Wouldn't stay there again, ever. One star rating. But my hosts were very polite. When I got to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, I ended up getting picked up by a lady who lived in Mobile, Alabama, who ended up taking me in. And she's my foster mother to this day. I love her to death. This horrific trip ended with me finding a new life and a new family. So there's silver lining to every dark cloud, I suppose. Her husband, who's my foster father, has never stopped giving me grief about any of this in almost 20 years. He's never tired of it. Did I learn anything from this? Well, if you're asking if I learned to not hitchhike, no. I went on several more journeys over the years before I finally decided that I'd had enough. Enough of the adventure. Someone will surely think I'm stupid for this. Young people tend to be stupid, so there's no argument there. If you need any further proof of this, watch MTV's coverage of spring break sometime. Watch how dumb those young people act as they party on the beach. As a word of advice to those who might be considering hitchhiking, just don't. You can meet a lot of really interesting people. You can have a lot of positive experiences. But you can also end up getting picked up by a total maniac. And you might not be as lucky as I was. I was about 8 or 9 and lived in a small town in Alabama where everyone knows everyone. We lived in a subdivision of Duplexes. The front of the neighborhood had a small rent office with the tenants mailboxes outside on the wall. My favorite task was going to get the mail. This particular day, my sister, around five or six, asked to go with me. Our duplex was right behind the office up at the top of a grassy hill. The backside of our home had faced the office. So my sister and I get to the mailbox and as I'm removing the mail, a white middle aged couple pulled up to the front of the building. This is relevant and I'm going to explain this. Being Alabama in the 80s, our neighborhood was all black. The white people lived on the other side of the railroad tracks. I knew a lot of them as most families were here for generations, but I had never seen this couple before. The woman on the passenger side rolled down her window and then said, excuse me, can we ask y' all a question? We need directions. I knew about stranger danger, so I had planned to just ignore them. My sister was starting to walk to the car window as my back was partially turned, locking the mailbox. I ran and grabbed her hand and said to run to the house. She had tried to ask why. As the woman continued calling us to her car, I raised my voice and said to get up the hill now. She started running up the hill. I turned to follow when the driver, who was a male, opened his door and in an angry voice then said, hey, bring your little asses here now. At this point my sister was up the hill and I started running up the hill too. When I got to the top, I saw that the driver was standing a few feet from the bottom of the hill. I just started laughing and mocking him, telling him that I beat him, that he was too slow. I even stuck my tongue out at him. He turned and walked back to his car. My mother wasn't home at the time. I don't even remember where she was. I just went into the house and stupidly never mentioned this incident until I was much older. I was around 15 or 16 when I remembered and understood the actual danger that I had been in. My mother was shaking when I finally told her about it. I have never shared this story except strangely enough to my teacher. At the time, I was in the first grade at Northside elementary in DeSoto, Texas. We lived about three long blocks down, as my mother liked to call it. I personally feel like it was a lot more My sister and I were brought to school on a regular basis and walked home. My parents decided to divorce right at this time. My dad moved out and we started seeing him every other weekend. My mom began dating someone else and I remember she no longer became interested in taking us to school as much. She became very preoccupied with her new relationship and I remember that she often had me Walking to school as well as coming home. Thinking back on it now, I'm not sure why I was late. There might have been a doctor appointment or something. I remember that it wasn't very late at all. Maybe just an hour or so after school had started. My mom pulled up in the car and I got out. I remember hoping that she would wait there to watch me go up the flights of stairs and inside. But she drove right off to my dismay. And this is when I saw him. A man, pretty normal looking, stepped out of a car looking directly at me. My mom had pulled off and this man was the only person around at this point. He crossed the street quickly at an angle, coming directly towards me. I remember turning and running up the steps. There were three flights of stairs with landings in between. When you're a little girl, these stairs seem much bigger. I remember looking over my shoulder and he was literally running up the stairs after me. And I had that horrible gut reaction and ran as fast as I could. I remember the double doors in front of me and I panicked, thinking I wouldn't make it. At that young age, I felt the energy coming from this otherwise normal looking person who looked like a dad. I remember the huge intrinsic feeling of doom and urgency to go through those doors. And I did. I immediately turned around and saw him standing on part of the second set of stairs. And he just stood there looking at me as I looked at him in return from inside the building. He then looked very frustrated, then turned walking away, back to his car. I remember telling my teacher about it. Maybe a week later, a police detective showed up to interview me about what happened. This makes me think that it may be connected to something that happened in that area at the time. I don't think I've ever been that afraid in my life. And it was a powerful internal fear. It was like my body told me to immediately run. In college, I was an avid metal detectorist. I knew of an old military trail and river crossing way back in a secluded portion of woods that I knew not many others were aware of. I finally decided one winter morning that I was going to go and metal detect it finally. The trail is about a mile or two from a city park along the South Concho river in San Angelo, Texas. I parked my truck, got all my gear and began my trek through the raw woods and brush for the trail. About halfway into the trees, I get into a clearing and find a tent and campsite about 40 yards back from the river and very, very isolated. There's cans laying all around it. Some Clothes and some other stuff that made it evident that someone was using it. I didn't hang around it for long and I just kept on my way. As I was getting past the tent, this haggard looking guy came out of the brush just a few feet away from me. I startled him as much as he startled me, and after some innocent chit chat back and forth, he asked what I was doing in the woods. I told him about the old trail, my metal detecting stuff, and lied that it was a pretty well known site for hobbyists like me. The latter seemed to get him a bit anxious. He starts asking me if I've messed with his campsite and I told him no, except for accidentally stepping on one of the cans. He was mostly concerned if I had looked in the tent itself though, which truthfully, I hadn't. The guy related that his wife had kicked him out of their apartment a few days ago and he was just staying in the woods until he got back on his feet. Didn't really add up in my head, but I didn't ask anything else about it. Finally I told him that I was going to get on my way and with a weird look on his face, he then suggested that I not go behind his campsite because he had recently used the bathroom back there. Whether there was fresh fertilizer back there or not, no way I was going to be hanging around much longer. Regardless, I went a little further towards the trail that I wanted to metal detect, but I never felt quite comfortable. So I made a quick turn towards the river and headed back to my truck fairly rapidly. Never saw the guy again until about two years later. His picture was in the local news for being apprehended by authorities for the murder of his wife. He killed her and then he buried her in the exact area of the woods where I encountered him on that very day. Apparently, even though I can't recall, it was the very day of the crime or not, he had just completed the crime right when we met. When I was 10 years old, I lived in a relatively small town in Texas in a small house with my mom. My mom has always had a very caring heart for those in need. So when my uncle called her one night and told her that he ran into a homeless girl at the local park, my mom had offered to help her out for a day or so, just to help get her back on her feet, that sort of thing. When the girl arrived at my house, she said her name was Laura. Laura told us that she was 16 at the time. She seemed like a shy girl when My mother had asked her what she was doing on the streets. Laura told us that she had been kicked out of her home by her mom because her mom had accused her of sleeping with her boyfriend. Laura then told us that allegation wasn't true at all. She told us her mother's boyfriend was the one who came onto her. My mom gave Laura a place to sleep in the guest bedroom that night. The next day, after breakfast, Laura had asked to use my mom's house phone to call her mom to see if she could get some of her things from her mom's house. Laura's mom never answered the phone and we felt bad for her. As a 10 year old girl, I couldn't imagine what she must have been going through. Later that day, I remember watching TV in the living room and just minding my own business. Business. But I could feel someone staring at me. So I turned my head where I felt the gaze. Laura was sending me a glare so cold that if Lux could kill, I would have dropped dead. I was confused and a little startled. I turned my head away from her quickly and went back to watching tv. But I could feel Laura's cold gaze. I couldn't understand what I had done to her to cause her to look at me with so much hate. The next day it happened once more. I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water when I could feel someone looking at me. I turned my head to the side and I saw Laura's head peering around the corner at me. Her eyes were dark and laced with hatred. It frightened me and I felt so confused as to why she was looking at me like this. I didn't want to cause any trouble so I didn't bring up Laura's death glares to my mother at all. Later that night, my uncle had joined us for dinner. He had stopped by to see how everything was going with Laura and if we had any luck finding her a place to live with one of her family members. After dinner, I was washing my plate in the sink when I heard a loud growling sound coming from the dining room. I turned my head to see Laura shaking and growling like some sort of wild animal. My mom and uncle looked disturbed and worried. Laura then threw herself onto the floor and began thrashing around and screaming as if she were possessed or something. I was absolutely terrified. It was a scary thing to witness. I grew up very religious. My mom and uncle began praying out loud for Laura while I ran to my room and just closed the door. This went on for two hours, but it felt like an eternity of horror. I could hear Laura screaming like a madwoman and growling like some sort of deranged beast. I don't think any of us knew exactly what was going on. After my mom and uncle had prayed for Laura for what felt like forever, Laura told us that she was free from an evil demon that had taken over her. None of us were sure what caused her behavior. None of us were sure what had even happened. I peeked out of my room to see Laura smiling happily while she had curled up on the couch with a blanket. Her eyes opened and she shot a cold glare at me. I then quickly closed my bedroom door in fear. I placed a chair in front of my bedroom door and then went to sleep. I was woken up the next morning by my mom waking me up. She told me that she was taking me out to eat to my favorite restaurant. When I asked her if Laura was going too, she gave me a serious expression and spoke. Your uncle's gonna take Laura back to her mom's house. He slept on the couch last night after what happened. He and I were talking when the two of you had gone to sleep. And we pieced together that Laura had made the entire performance up last night. She then continued. She's not stable and we think she's dangerous. As I heard my mother say those words, relief washed over me. I got dressed and went to the car to go to the restaurant with my mom. When we got into the car, we saw Laura and my uncle getting in his truck with her. Laura looked angry. Her expression was of a child's when you don't give them what they want. She got into my uncle's car and they drove away. I'm 22 now and I've never forgotten about this horrific incident that happened in my life years ago. After that day, I never saw Laura or heard anything else about her ever again. It happened 24 years ago in July of 1996. I had finished my term of service for the Army. I was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas and decided at midnight I would out process and travel back to Wisconsin. All day I was so anxious to go that I had trouble sleeping. Finally, at 11:45pm I got out of bed and went to sign out with the desk sergeant. Of course, knowing people wanted to sign out at midnight, he decided to do his rounds. You can't leave until you get your final sign off with the sergeant and then turn in your room key. So I waited and waited and finally at 2:45am he returned. I turned my key in, got the sign off, and at 3:30am I was on my way. At first I was so full of adrenaline that I felt like I could drive for days. Unfortunately, that adrenaline didn't last long and by the time I was getting through Dallas, I was nodding off. I decided just past Denton that I would pull over at the next rest stop and take a quick nap until the sun came up. I could barely keep my eyes open when I came to a stop. I pulled over and got out of my car to get some fresh air and throw something away and to get a good look at my surroundings. There were only about three other cars and two semi trucks there. It was a picnic stop and not a rest stop, so no restrooms. I threw away my trash and glanced at a poster for a few missing persons, but I really didn't pay any attention to it. I went back to my car, which was just a basic Geo Metro. No radio, no power windows, no power locks. I cracked the windows and turned on the boombox that I had for some tunes and laid down to get some sleep. I was only asleep for maybe five or ten minutes when I felt my car shake just slightly. I cracked open an eye and looked but I didn't see anything so I blew it off and went back to sleep. I then heard what sounded like my door handle being pulled and scratching on the door key. I then sat up quickly but didn't see anyone there. I looked at all of the windows and didn't see anyone. So again I shrugged it off as just me being tired and I laid back down and turned up the radio. Being a Texas night in July, it was hot but I was so tired I just laid back down. A few minutes later I heard the door handle again and the car really shook. I sat up quickly and I saw a man standing at the passenger side looking in. Even though it was hot and humid. He was wearing a red sweatshirt with the hood up and I couldn't see his face. Being young and dumb and just out of the military, I yelled at him, hey man, what the hell do you want? He just stared at me. So like an idiot I got out of the car. Mind you, I'm only 5 foot 6 but I was pissed. He just walked off towards the picnic tables like nothing had happened. All the while I'm yelling at him that if he came back I would take him out. I decided I would just drive on from there. I got back and went on my way even though I was so upset. Only about 10 miles down the road I was super tired again. Luckily about another 10 miles down I35 there was another picnic stop. Not sure why North Texas doesn't have any rest areas, but they don't. I pulled into the second picnic stop and backed into a spot just in case I needed to leave quickly. Not sure why, but there was only one other car there and no semi trucks. This time. I once again locked the doors, cracked the windows and turned on my boombox. I fell asleep right away and about 30 minutes later I had heard a loud thud on my driver side window. I jumped up and looked around and no one was there. I then got out of the car, which was very stupid, but I had my macho military attitude going but no one was around. I assumed it was just my nerves from the other stops. I got back into my car, locked the doors again and closed my eyes. This time I was too amped to fall asleep, so I laid there with my eyes closed. I felt that someone was looking at me and I opened my eyes and I saw the guy standing there again with the red sweatshirt hood up. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could see he was smiling at me. I popped up quickly and tried to quickly open the door and bump into him. Being a cheap go, since the doors were locked, it didn't open. He walked backwards, still staring at me. By the time I got out, he was about 30ft away facing me. It was fairly dark, but as I looked him over, he looked real skinny but was about 6 foot 2 or maybe 6 3. But I still feel like I could take him with my military experience. Yeah, I know what an ego I had. He was wearing a red hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans and green tennis shoes. For some reason I thought his shoes looked odd. I could see something shine every now and then as he stood there staring at me. I believe it was a machete. I quickly reached into my backseat and grabbed my baseball bat and then started yelling at him too. Come get some bro. Not even sure why I said that. He started walking towards me and I took a few steps towards him, not really thinking as I got about 5ft from my car and he was about 15ft from me, a yellow van pulled up real quick and parked off just to the side of my car. I finally realized what was really happening and I saw two guys also wearing hooded sweatshirts in the van. Before they could get out, I ran back to my car. I had left the keys in the ignition. Since I had backed in, I was able to cut it hard right and peeled my car out of there. I was so lucky. It being a manual car, I didn't stall the car because the other two guys were out of the van and the first guy was just about at my car. I jumped back on the interstate and I didn't stop until I was about 20 miles into Oklahoma. I stopped for gas and to use the restroom. In the restroom I noticed that same flyer that I barely glanced at at the Fly first picnic stop. It was basically a flyer with several missing persons on it and warning people to not stop for long periods of time at the rest areas. It described a possible suspect as being possibly 6 foot, wearing blue jeans, green shoes and a red hooded sweatshirt. I went completely white. Needless to say, since it was daylight, I drove the rest of the way to Wisconsin wide awake. Not sure why, but I never reported it to the number on the flyer or told anyone about it. I now live in North Texas and pass those two picnic stops every day on my way to work and I think about it quite often. I wonder if they got anyone else or if they caught them. I tried looking it up but I didn't find any stories about it on the Internet. In 2010 I was driving from New Orleans, Louisiana to Eugene, Oregon. It was just me, a 24 year old female and my 2 year old pit bull in a 14 foot U haul truck with everything I owned crammed into the back along with a fancy flip phone and my printout MapQuest directions. I think the first smartphones actually came out around that time, but I didn't have one. Cell phone service was also much spottier and there were long stretches through the desert where I had zero service for hundreds of miles. I was driving a lonely stretch of highway through central Texas when I realized I hadn't seen a town or exit for a very long time and my giant U haul was really low on gas. Just when I'm starting to freak out and seriously run out of gas, I see a small town coming up. I pull into this town and it's tiny. I was so worried about other things that I never did pay attention to the name of the town, but there were only about six streets in the whole place. I gas up and I'm ready to get back on the road. Except I can't for the life of me find my way back to the highway. I circle the town about four times and start getting so frustrated because this is such a tiny town. How can I not find my way out? I can definitely see the highway but I can't get to it. I return to the gas station to ask for directions. Now when I got gas I painted the pump and never went in when I enter for directions. There's a skinny, nondescript guy who has black hair hanging down in front of his eyes that looks like he could use a good wash. He's not particularly creepy, but a little rude. He never really met my eyes. He was looking down at a magazine. He gives me directions that don't sound right at all. He's telling me to take a road that'll get me to the highway in about 17 miles. For a moment I'm dumbfounded. Then I point out that I didn't drive that far to get from the highway into town. So why so far to get back to the highway? I can literally see it from the town. He's so casual, almost like I'm just an annoyance and can follow his directions or not. Why should he care? He gives me some explanation about the road curving around that doesn't really make any sense. He still doesn't look at me. Just whatever. When I got into the parking lot, my whole body had started trembling violently and my heart started racing, seemingly for no reason. I got into the truck and as soon as I put the key into ignition, I burst into tears. I had the most terrible feeling that no matter how nonchalant he acted, this man had bad intentions. I didn't know that, but I knew right right then and there that there was no way I was going to follow his directions. Yet this was the only store in this little town and short of knocking on doors, there was no one else to ask for directions. I decided I didn't give a crap if this town seemed like something dropped out of the twilight Zone. I was going to drive around until I found my way out, even if it took me all damn night. Then a big red beater of a pickup truck, as much rust as metal, pulls up and disgorged this quintessential Texan man, huge, husky, and in flannel and work boots. Without even thinking about it, I jumped out of the truck and approached him quickly yet wearily. Looking into his eyes, I saw a kind human being, or at least I was hoping I did. I asked if he could please give me directions to the highway. I told him I knew it was silly, but I just couldn't seem to find my way back. He looked concerned as I was visibly upset, so he made me laugh and very cheerfully gave me directions for a hairpin curve turn off right at the end of a small concrete tunnel that I had passed several times. He said that it often confused travelers because it was so hard to see they really needed to put up signs, etc. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I asked him how far in miles was it back to the highway? He laughed and he gave me a funny look. Miles, miss. I'd say it's a quarter mile at most. You can see the highway right from here. At this point I couldn't help it. I had to know what happens if I drive. And I gave him the directions the man in the store had given me. The Texas man looked at me very intently and he asked me how I knew about that route. It was pretty far out and usually only the locals knew about it, so I told him. He was quiet for a few minutes. Then he asked what the attendant looked like and if I had a map of the state. Nope, just my map quest, which wasn't really helpful in this situation. He goes back to his truck and he grabs a raggedy local map from his glove box, spreading it out for me. He traces the route that I described. The way the man from the gas station had told me to go led me away from town, away from the interstate and led to seemingly the middle of nowhere. Texas man told me that the road did go about 17 miles right before it dead ended in the desert. I asked him what was out there and he told me it was nothing but some junked cars and a few trailers and mobile homes all owned by the same family. This family was known locally as troublemakers, meth heads and alcoholics, and these were only the nice things townspeople had to say about them. And the erstwhile clerk was part of this family and lived down that road. I'll never forget the look in Texas man's eyes as he told me this. He also told me that I was smart to listen to my instincts and he told me to be careful traveling out there. I don't know if the man from the gas station wanted what was in the back of my U Haul or what was in the driver's seat, but thankfully I didn't have to find out. Oh, and I learned that sometimes angels look like robots. Ruddy haired Texans with scruffy faces and rusty pickup trucks. Thank you random Texan stranger. You really saved my ass and I will always remember you with tons of love. I'm sorry I didn't ask you your name. You're forever Texas to me now. I talked to my mom and I realized that I was wrong about the year it all happened. She also helped me finally figure out why I couldn't place where this happened. Even though I've made this drive several times. But the circumstances that took me off the beaten path across Texas were so bizarre that I guess I blocked them out of my memory until she said something. Update 2 I had a ton of questions about where the events on my other post happened. It has nagged in my mind ever since. I should have had a general idea, but just kept drawing a giant blank. I'd driven that same route many times and didn't remember anything remotely close to where I found myself at that time. I eventually called my mom and I asked her if she remembered me saying anything about it. First she pointed out that I had the wrong year and then reminded me that I had started out with a passenger. Suddenly it all came flooding back and I knew exactly why I was so lost and on edge. I had just quit my job at the casino and I hated my new job. It didn't pay like it was supposed to and my boss was a condescending jerk My roommate of four years and I had a falling out. I was crashing in my cousin's room. I couldn't find an affordable place so when my mom called and said she was having surgery and really needed me to come manage her shop while she recovered, I jumped on the chance to get out of the city and out into the forests of the Oregon coast. I didn't have a ton of money but I figured my savings and a little help from Mama would help me get there. However, every 10 foot U haul in the city was reserved or rented. I had to take a 14 footer which was much more expensive. Suddenly the money situation was looking grim. So when an old friend from high school in Oregon had called me asking if he could crash on our couch for two weeks to check out New Orleans in exchange for paying gas, food and hotels for part of the trip, I was super relieved. He wanted to be dropped off at his extended family's place in Texas, southwest of Dallas. He could help me drive too. I quickly agreed. He purchased his plane ticket to come down. I called my best friend from Oregon. Katie told her I was coming and told her how Dan was going to help me to Texas. The three of us and his long term girlfriend had been really close so I expected her to be excited. Instead, I was met with long seconds of silence before she then asked me if I knew about his accident. I didn't. A few years before, Dan had wrecked his bike while not wearing a helmet. He was in a coma for several years. Katie told me that when he woke up he was like a completely different person. She said none of our old group would have anything to do with him anymore, but wouldn't really elaborate further. She would only repeat that he was just different. I felt a little nervous after this conversation, but the plane ticket was already bought. When I knew him before, Dan was hands down one of the best people I've ever met. He was genuine, generous, and truly cared about everyone. You could trust him with anything. I realized that the way he acted later was at least partially the result of the trauma, and I will try to be respectful of this fact. However many things he did catapulted over the line of decency, I admit that I could have handled this much better, but in order to be honest, I had a lot of trouble finding understanding as his inappropriate behavior escalated. Once he arrived, my cousin and I noticed that he was slightly out of it and had no filter. Okay, whatever. We can deal with that. Then he says he forgot to transfer his money from his savings to his checking and his bank was giving him trouble about transferring it over the phone. He assured me he would get it straight before we left. Now he's the guy on the couch whom I'm responsible for feeding and covering bar tabs for. I had plans for goodbye blowouts with friends, and my aunt didn't want him there if I was out. I wasn't missing the chance to see all of my people one last time, so I was stuck with them. He promised he would pay me back. Then he started getting more and more handsy with my cousin Natalie and I. We made it very clear that this was unwanted and inappropriate. He would walk into our room unannounced, especially at times we were getting ready and likely to be undressed. We actually had to install a lock because he ignored every demand that he knock and wait for a response. He would stroke at our feet as he walked by while we were laid out, relaxing on the bed stand so close we could feel him breathe, touch us every time we walked by, rub on our shoulders and touch our hair. By the time I caught him smelling my hair and secretly taking pictures of our butts while we were walking, I was officially creeped the hell out and working toward furious. I was about to be alone with him in a hotel miles from anyone I knew. I grew increasingly stronger in my reactions to what he was doing, trying to discourage him from his behaviors. He would apologize, then rinse and repeat. Two weeks later, we were on our way. Crossing a bridge right before Shreveport. He reached over and slid his hand across my upper thigh. He went for the money and his fingers were brushing my lady parts. I swerved, smacked his hand away, and promptly began ripping him a new one. Suddenly, the inside of the U Haul was filled with flashing red and blue lights. Images of everything I owned being impounded filled my head. Luckily, the officer caught the byplay between us and he let me go without a ticket. He cast a significant glance at Dan, who was acting like a total weirdo, wandering around talking to either us or himself, who knows? And just simply told me, good luck. Yeah, thanks, Shreveport cop. I appreciate your understanding. Once we got to Shreveport, I stopped for gas. Dan claimed that he had the money in his account now, so I asked him for it. He had started freaking out, saying he lost his wallet. Funny, I hadn't seen him pull it out once in over two weeks, so not sure how he lost it, but I pay for the gas as I'm climbing back into the truck. I'm 4 foot 11 by the way. I really had to boost myself up because I had started to slip from the odd vantage point this put me in. I could see the top of his wallet crammed in the space between the tall building dashboard in the side window. I didn't believe him when he told me he hadn't put it there on purpose. It was wedged in too firmly for all that nonsense back on the road. I am a very introverted person. In treasure calm moments, Dan talked and talked and talked for hours. It was about ridiculousness, mainly how he was great in so many ways and he kept trying, horribly I might add, to seduce me. I was completely over him. Twice I almost kicked him out, but I kept reminding myself that he had suffered severe head trauma and I couldn't leave him alone in the middle of nowhere with no money and still call myself a good person. It became my mantra. At the next gas station, he admitted that his family had never put money into his account. I was now seriously worried that I was going to run out of money before I could get to Oregon. I had been worried about that before I had started supporting a grown man for the last several weeks. Now I was approaching frantically when we stopped to sleep at a hotel. I could only afford one room, but made sure there were two beds. I'm laying down, trying to get some rest. He gets in the shower, a long shower, but I'm okay with that. At least he's out of my space for a bit. Hopefully he'll whack it and stop harassing me for my booty, was my thought at the time. Suddenly the bathroom door, which was a few feet from the side of my bed, flew open. A great cloud of steam billowed out I have never witnessed so much steam after a shower. I'm still thinking to myself, what the hell? When the steam clears enough for me to see him, he's standing right inside the bathroom door, hands on hips, completely naked. I start stammering, asking what the hell he's doing. Get dressed. He just struts out naked and starts dancing, causing his penis to jump and twirl, pulling the blankets up protectively and calling my dog to me. I had started to feel real fear of this man who had once been my friend for the first time once he saw a strip show was not having the desired effect on me. His whole countenance changed. His expression darkened. I saw open anger on his face. He starts screaming and ranting at me about how great he is and how hard he's been trying to show me. But I just don't get it. He's a wonderful man, a perfect man with a perfect penis right here, awaiting my pleasure. And I'm just insistent on being blind and ignorant. He continues calling me names while simultaneously trying to convince me I'm stupid for not being with him while I have the chance. He was naked the whole time he was yelling. Thinking back on it, I believe he took a hot shower to make it look bigger, which really does crack me up. People are so strange. It took forever to get him calmed down and get dressed. I was trying not to show how scared I was. The reality of my situation hit me hard. I was alone in a hotel room, far from everyone I knew, with a mentally unstable man, one who felt that I owed it to him to have sex with him. I already knew he had no boundaries. I lay there holding my dog all night, listening to every rustle coming from his side of the room. I was terrified that if I fell asleep, I would wake up to him trying to rape me. Thank God for my pit bull. I'm sure she was a major deterrent. I didn't sleep a wink, and my dog, catching the mood, wouldn't even leave my side to eat her dinner or breakfast. The reasons I didn't leave him there the next morning were one, he would be gone before I had to get another room, and two, he promised his family he would give me some cash when we got there. I needed it desperately, mainly because of him. It's the last day with him. We're off the main interstate and heading south. He was allegedly going to help me drive for the trip, but neglected to tell me that he actually didn't have a license. No way that was going down. So I take off on zero sleep and pure nerves. Now I wanted to put his drop off location in my mabquest itinerary to make it easier for me since I never strayed from the the main interstate before. However, I was never able to get him to give me the actual address of where I was taking him. He continually assured me that it was easy peasy, no way I could get lost, etc. Until I gave up in exasperation. I'm still furious and shaken about the night before and he immediately got us lost for about an hour and a half. Once we got headed back the right way, I decided to stop before we hit the main road to let my dog out to pee. We stopped in a park area with a playground in some tiny town that I didn't pay attention to the name of. I was walking her having left Dan in the truck with the air on. The seven guys are walking by adjacent to the park. When they see me they all stop, talk a second and almost as if they're all one, they give me the same creepy ass grins. They turn off the street and walk across the park to the playground area a few hundred feet in front of me. They leaned on the equipment in a loose horseshoe centered on me, still smiling. They didn't say anything or signal to me, only occasionally speaking slowly to each other. They were all dressed the same way, ranged from early teens to early 30s, and just generally gave off bad vibes. They were all staring me down until I felt like a rabbit that saw a fox. My dog, who usually loves everyone had started trying to drag me back to the truck and the opposite direction of the guys. I trusted her and followed, trying to act calm and confident. I felt neither. When I got up to the U haul, Dan had the back wide open. I tried to tell him to close it, we need to go now. But he was oblivious to all of my distress signals. He kept insisting that we need to try to feed the dog since she didn't eat her last two meals. Okay, okay, but feed her in the truck. We have to go, I told him. A quick side glance showed the men were still by the playground staring, but now they weren't leaning on the equipment. They were standing close together, talking and watching us. This is when Fantastic Dan informs me that he lost the keys. What the hell? Really? You've gotta be kidding me, I said. I feel a sinking in my stomach and demand that we search right now. Quickly. As I scour the ground, I see the men have separated. Two are in the same place. Two are circling wide to the right. The Other two doing the same on the left. They're all still staring at us, and I've lost track of one of them. I finally spotted him. He must have started circling to the left before the other two because he was now almost directly behind the U Haul, maybe a hundred feet back. He was hidden from my sight where I'd been searching. I was officially losing my grip on myself. Full fight or flight mode was now taking over. I knew that I had searched every inch of space Dan could have possibly been around several times, even running my hands across the ground just in case. These guys were circling us and we couldn't get away. Our phones were locked in the cab for a minute. Time seemed to slow down and I just stared off, thinking how totally screwed we were. I think all the stress may have overloaded my system for a moment. My eyes strayed to the bag of dog food. The whole reason Dan had gotten out of the cab in the first place. No way. Not possible. But maybe. Time snapped back into regular focus and I practically dove for the dog food bag, cursing and threatening Dan the whole time like a maniac. I yanked it up and dumped it all over the back of the the U Haul. And there they were, the keys shining silver in the wave of brown kibbles. I could have killed Dan in that moment, twice even, but I just slammed and locked the back and got us the hell out of there. The rest of the trip where I dropped him off is a blur. I know he got us lost again for about two hours this time. I used that time to scream at him. Admittedly not my best moment. Eventually he had me drop him off on some random main street in a little town that looked like all the others. He didn't even tell me it was his destination until he had me pull over. I was angry that he wouldn't take me to his family to at least get some money for taking care of him, giving him a place to stay, and driving him so far. We had a truly marvelous fight, but I eventually gave up. I was just so happy to get rid of him. I was exhausted, but too overstimulated to sleep, so I decided to try and get a few more hours in to make up for the lost time and get back into familiar territory. My next stop for gas was where this story started, where the gas station attendant tried to send me to his family enclave in the desert, and when Mr. Texas saved me. So while I still don't know exactly where that creepy attendant lived, I do know it was south of Dallas, a little to the west and way out in nothingness. Not off the interstate as I mistakenly assumed before. My mom reminded me of my hellish detour with a crazy ex friend about three years ago. I was 38 weeks pregnant. My husband and I lived in what we called our village. It was two dead end streets off a highway with forestry beyond the ends of the roads and a small local store the corner of one street. We called it the Village because our trailer park neighbors were my aunt, uncle and cousin's trailer and then my husband's brother and nieces. Then my grandma's house was on the next street over. My other aunt, uncle and cousins lived with her. At the time, my husband and I were 21 years old then. My best friend Ray was visiting from college and had spent the night with me. The next day we decided to walk up my street, down the highway past the store, then down to my grandma's street and back through the woods to my house. This was to try to help get labor started as my pregnant belly was huge and my back really hurt often. Then we were talking while I hobbled with her down the highway when a white truck rode by rather slowly. I knew the speed limit was 55 and this dude had to be going like 30. Through the driver window I saw a bald white man, maybe in his 50s rush rubbernecking at us. At this time it looked like there might have been someone else in the passenger seat. The truck was kind of old, but I didn't know the year, make or model or see the license plate. Ray was talking and unbothered until I said, hey, that guy just went by really slowly. I don't think that's anyone I know. She then replied with something like oh, I didn't even notice that. We were halfway to the store less than two minutes later when we saw him coming back from the other direction. I then said, that's him again. Get in the grass. Since we were on what would have been his right side, we went down the slope of the grass off the road. We're still in front of people's houses though because the section of highway is lined with residences between the dead end streets. He passes us slowly again and when I turn to look behind us, he's slowing down even more. He then finds a spot and starts to turn the truck around. I told Ray to run, so we ran. I was doing the best I could being super pregnant. We thought about going in the store but decided to just head for my grandma's up the other street instead. Her house was up the hill at the end but it wasn't a long run. When we got up the hill, I'd looked back again to see his truck pulling into the store park parking lot. We continued to run and got to my grandma's where she and my aunt were sitting at the table and then told them what just happened. My aunt made a police report. I was afraid at first, thinking maybe I was paranoid. What if it was someone I knew and they were just trying to say hi and maybe it was a waste of the police's time. Turns out there had been other reports of a man creeping around the neighborhoods. Someone in another trailer park right down the highway reported that her kids were outside playing when a man emerged from the woods trying to lure one of them to him. They hollered for their mom and supposedly she came out and threatened him and he ran off. But it continues a few more times. We think we saw his truck, but we're not really sure if it was him since one of the residents also has a white truck. My family had yet to see the truck so they couldn't identify it. At some point when I wasn't home, a few of my cousins were playing outside. Their ages ranged from 10 to 15. This time the truck came rolling down our little street past them. He turned around at the end, came back up and stopped right next to them. They said that he was trying to lure my 11 year old cousin to the truck. But he said no and they all ran back to my aunt's house. We talked with the children about what was going on in the neighborhood lately. One more thing happened before the report stopped. I had my baby at 40 weeks. My husband, his friend, the baby and I were home. The baby was about a week old. We got a call from my aunt at grandma's house that they had seen the man real up close and personal. My two female teen cousins were in their room. It was getting dark out, but for some reason my cousin went up to open the blinds to the window and there was the man squatting on the AC unit, just staring at them. They screamed and he jumped off and ran into the woods behind the house. My aunt called the police. My husband and his friends later went out with guns and flashlights to search for him, but they didn't find him. I believe he was parking his truck somewhere and then stalking the houses from the forest. My husband and I actually used to walk through those woods and we never had any issues as it was private land that we had permission to walk on. It also seems that this man didn't have a preference for age or gender. He was looking for anyone he could get for whatever sick reason. There had been police sent to patrol the highway or sit on the side of the road waiting, keeping an eye out for him throughout those weeks, but they never caught him. I still wonder sometimes if he was someone from out of town or I really hope that maybe somewhere he gets busted before something bad happens. We might not ever know. I forgot to mention that we contacted the store owner to see if he had caught the truck's plates on a security camera, but unfortunately you couldn't see the plates from the angle the man had pulled through. At the time I was a 25 year old woman. I was working at a very run down seafood restaurant on a lake out where I live in the middle of nowhere, literally 15 miles from the nearest store. I was working on an evening shift and it may have been around 7 o' clock at night. Before I go further I would like to give some background for context. A majority of the clientele that frequent in this restaurant were what many would consider trashy. There was a campground and a trailer park within a mile vicinity and many folks lived in the campground for months at a time. So I became quite accustomed to dealing with some less than savory people and their behaviors. So on this particular evening business was pretty slow. Two guys walk in, one older rough looking man and a younger equally rough looking man. I sent them in and fetched them a couple of Coronas at their request. From the get go they're leering at me. Now. I'm used to this kind of awkward attention from male customers so I just roll with it, trying to at least earn a decent tip. The older man begins to not so subtly hit on me, telling me how beautiful I am and the things that he would do to me. I nervously laugh and tell the man that I have a boyfriend and that I'm not interested. I decided that it would be best if I tell my manager in the kitchen about this creeper. He comes out of the kitchen and happens to see their van, the only vehicle in the parking lot. A cliche creeper, white but filthy utility van with no back windows. He stands over me as I check on the men and their table and he tells me to be careful and aware. Sometime after their food has arrived and a couple more beers, I walk over to check on these men. The older man looks up at me and sways, clearly having one too many. And then he says this to me. If you aren't going to give me anything, then you should go into the kitchen and get a hot dog bunch. Then fill it with mayonnaise and microwave it for a few seconds for me. That way I have something warm and soft to stick my dick in tonight. What the absolute hell? I don't even remember what I said in response. At this point, my thin veneer of customer service niceness was now gone. I was mortified and I told my manager. He proceeds to stand at the doorway while I present the man with their check and they pay. Seeing my manager watching them closely, they say nothing else. They just get into their pedo van and drive away. Flash forward a few days, the same van is seen around the small rural town, cruising by school bus stops, trying to lure children over. Thank goodness they weren't successful in their attempts. Let's go back to when I was in the fourth to fifth grade. I'm turning 19 soon now. My grandma from Alaska had driven her motor home down, and she had brought her beagle, Ginger. We're in Florida. My friends, they were siblings, lived about 10, 15 minutes away from my house, and I wanted to show them my grandma's dog since I was already taking her out for a walk. I had gotten about five minutes from my house. So literally just down the road a little bit, and I cross the main drag. A little bit further down is a church. My house at the time and the church's property are bordering each other. I'm on the opposite side of the road where the church is, and there's a small circle driveway. Ginger stopped to smell some bushes, and I'm just like, okay, smell, and we can go. Then a guy in a white truck with a small trailer pulls in and parks there. And I don't think anything of it. He gets out of the car and leaves the door open. I look over and there's a girl, maybe seven, eight years old, in the passenger seat. Her knees are against her chest and she looks scared. The guy hollers at me from across the street, so naturally I look over. He then says, hey, there, I'm not gonna hurt you, over and over again, and he starts crossing the road. I started freaking out a little bit, and I start pulling Ginger's leash, but she's way into this bush and won't budge. He gets halfway across and there are no cars. And he then asked me the most bizarre thing I've ever heard. Do you know anybody that's selling babies? I look to the side, really anxiously, trying to think of some kind of lie to get him down the street or something just to get him away from me. I ended up, just saying, uh, no, sorry man. And Ginger was finally done, so I started to book it back home. He left, said nothing else and drove away. I totally forgot all about the girl in the truck. I'm walking across the street back home and some guy in a bug exterminator truck tells me saw what happened and he asked me if I'm okay. I just say yes. Still being creeped out about literally talking to anybody else. And now a second guy shows up. He left shortly after and I walked into my house and told my mom and grandmother. They were horrified that it happened so close and that they had no idea. My mom called the cops and they took a description from me via the phone. But it was really bad because all I really know was that he was a little bit taller than me at the time, maybe 30, was Hispanic and he had a white truck and a trailer. I remember my stepdad pulling up people who got arrested recently and he asked me if I recognized any of them. Of course I didn't though. Years later, I really hope that girl's fine and doing okay and I just hope that it was his daughter being really creeped out by him. Also, I really hope no other kids got to talk to him. It was a really nerve wracking experience. Longtime lurker, part time jerker. But the story involves my encounter with a serial killer in 1996. I was 22 years old and living in Terrebonne, Louisiana. I was living with my cousin and we were doing some construction work and our existences revolved around getting trashed on the weekend. One Friday night we went out with a co worker named Josh. We met Josh at his house in Houma and headed out. We hit the bars and I was determined to get laid this night. By 1am I had completely struck out for the night. I was at the point of my alcohol consumption that I wasn't going to have any success with the ladies. So we headed back to Josh's and couldn't really manage to find our way back in our drunken states and ended up in a section of town none of us had ever been to before. We come across another bar and Josh convinces us that it's a good idea to go inside. Well, within 30 seconds of entering the bar, it's very obvious that it's a gay bar. None of us were gay, but we agreed with some prodding from Josh, that we could stay and have a few drinks. I started getting advanced on by a heavyset man. I make it apparent as quickly as possible that I'm not gay. And that he should leave. He seems to accept this, but continues to spark up a conversation with me. I find him somewhat interesting, mainly due to his open sexuality, which I was new to. And about half an hour goes by and the bar is dying down and we continue chatting. He says that he lives nearby and that all three of us can crash with him and head out in the morning. At this point, he hadn't really set off any alarm bells, especially not in my drunken state. I convinced Josh and my cousin that the guy's cool and that we can have a nice place to stay the night that's nearby. They eventually trust my judgment and we head out. We eventually found ourselves in a small trailer park. We get to his trailer park and things started getting really freaking weird. It had a giant bulletin board with pictures of men on it. Under the men's pictures is descriptions like rugged butt, white boy, tight ass, tees, and just really weird crap. My cousin even comments on it and he states that he likes to remember his partners. Oh, okay. We're too drunk to give a crap and we just want to get this night over with. In the middle of the night at about 4am, we're woken up by him screaming about if you're gonna sleep in my house, you're gonna have to pay. We naturally ask him what the hell he's doing and he insists that we're teasing him and want a good screwing. We eventually get him calmed down and get the hell out of there. Seven years later, I realized that the man was Ronald Dominique, who was eventually convicted of 23 murders of homosexual men. This was in 1996. I often struggle with guilt over if I should have done something and contacted the police based on the weird vibes he gave off and his inappropriate behavior. At the time of his conviction, though, I had long moved from Louisiana and I was living in Northern Oregon. It's still pretty crazy to find that out though. So the story takes place a few years ago. I grew up in a trailer park in an extremely low income part of California's Central Valley. The park itself was originally established as a retirement community for seniors and my grandmother had bought a nice double wide upon her retirement. But as the years went by, the age and retirement requirement was dropped and the park filled in with all sorts of unsavory types. My mom and I moved in with my grandmother after she was diagnosed with cancer in 2001, and after she died, we had decided to stay in the trailer and try to fix it up and sell it. Life got in the way. Plans fell by the wayside. And nine years later, we're still living there. Our neighbors were interesting, to say the least. The trailer to the right of ours shuffled through a bunch of different renters in the 10 years we lived there, including a guy who was arrested for throwing his girlfriend through one of the windows and another couple of dudes who never lived there, but just used to grow marijuana. But the people to our left were really nice. They were a pretty typical trailer park couple, Cindy and Nurlat. She was this tiny lady with tattooed eyeliner and a Betty boob trim stamp who collected precious moments figures and would often walk around with her fake teeth out. And he was a Vietnam vet, Berkeley grad, and former engineer who, in his retirement, had decided to just settle down, drink beer, and work on his motorcycles. Neural was a really good guy who was pretty protective of my mom and myself, so we didn't feel like we were in much danger for most of the time we lived there. In the fall of 2009, however, things started to get weird. Nurl joined an outlaw motorcycle gang that had roots in drug trafficking. According to Cindy, he just wanted to ride with them. But he had started getting sucked into the subculture, and it was scary. The park we lived in was fully fenced in and gated, and I used to go out running in the early morning or evening before it got too hot. One loop around the full park was a mile, and I go do that three or four times. You had to carry a big stick or pepper spray in case someone's dog got loose. But somehow you got used to these things. I'd been doing this ever since I was 14 and had never run into anything weird or scary, aside from the aforementioned dogs. But around the time of his induction into this club, I had started seeing strange people on bikes stationed in various parts of the park work, not doing anything, just sitting. So one evening in late May, I'm out on my regular run, headphones on, I've got my pepper spray, and I'm totally in the zone. Near the end of my fourth loop, I turn the corner to head down my street, and I see three guys on bikes just sitting in the middle of the street, just staring. I know what Nurl's bikes look like. None of his were there. So I have basically two options. I can turn around and take a detour, or I can just keep going down the street. The smart thing to do is take the damn detour, because these guys look pretty damn sketchy to me. But I'm tired having just run four miles in 90 degree heat. And taking the detour would mean going past a house belonging to this old man who liked to hoot and holler at me whenever I'd go past. Well, being a moron, I keep jogging along down the street, obliviously heading toward the freaking black hat brigade. Like absolutely nothing here is out of the ordinary. What, those three scary guys on bikes parked in the middle of the street? Nope. Nothing to see here. Happens every day. Just play it cool. When I get close, one of them revs their bike. You know, the vroom, vroom noise? I know nothing about the correct terminology. Another then shouts, hey. I have my headphones in and pretend I can't hear them, so I just give a little wave and just keep going. Big mistake. Because as soon as the dude sees that I'm not going to stop for him, he peels out and turns around and starts to cruise after me down the street. Now I'm terrified. I may be 40ft from my house, and the adrenaline is kicking in. I drop the pepper spray and start running faster than I've ever run before. It's like a Roadrunner cartoon in real life. My headphones come out of my ears and are dragging on the ground, but I don't even notice because the dude is gaining on me. I fly down the street, into my yard, up the stairs and into my house, locking and bolting the door behind me. And then I go running into my mom's room to tell her what's going on. She tells me to get down on the floor and not look out any windows. And just as she does, we hear this guy banging on our back door. Not saying anything, just banging. He does this for at least 20 minutes. Our back door was kind of flimsy, and if you pulled on it the right way, you could tug it open even if it was locked. So we just sat in the bathroom in the very back of the trailer, praying that he wouldn't start pulling. Then my mom calls the cops. The cops take their sweet time to show up, as per usual in our neighborhood, and by the time they arrive, the. The bikers are long gone. We gave a statement, but that was pretty much the end of it. Until two days later when Cindy comes over sobbing about how she just got a call that Neural was stabbed in a fight with a rival biker gang at a tattoo parlor a few blocks away. I don't know exactly what these guys were doing in our neighborhood that day, or what they thought flagging down his teenage neighbor would accomplish, but those cracks and indentations from the dude's giant fists in our back door scared the crap out of me every time I saw them. So for a few weeks after that we had to deal with seeing random guys on bikes stationed around the neighborhood. Cindy just said they were neurals guys and taking care of things. I didn't go out running alone again for as long as I lived there. Oh, and the cherry on top of all this. About a year later we found out that a trailer just up the street from ours was being used as a meth lab. That was when we finally noped the hell out of there and moved to the east Coast. A little Background information About Me I have panic disorder. For those who don't know what that is, it's a mental illness that causes extreme anxiety, severe panic attacks, and a slew of problems. I've been suffering from this for over a year now and while it is getting better, it's still very difficult to deal with. Keep this in mind. My husband and I have been married for a little over a year now. The time we were married, unfortunately I was undergoing medical issues that no doctors could seem to explain. I was having panic attacks all the time and they would be so severe that I would have to be taken to the ER where they would have to literally sedate me to calm down. I was also losing weight at an exponential and scary rate, becoming sicker and sicker as time went on. Not even a month after we were married, I lost my job and was homebound while My husband worked second shift, which was 4pm to 3am he would arrive home at around 4am leaving me alone most of the time. My parents and younger brother live close by, perhaps a 10 minute drive at most, but at the moment my mother and father were unable to watch over me. My mom is a schoolteacher and my father worked in a factory. They called as frequently as they could, but that's all they could do. In May, I was told by doctors that I was literally at death's door and unless something happened quickly, my family was going to lose me. I was given medications to help with the panic attacks, to get me to eat, etc. They wanted to hospitalize me, but I refused. My parents decided that when they and my younger brother went to Florida the next month, they were taking me with them again. Keep in mind, I'm both anxious and extremely sick. Around this time the real issues began not with me, but with our neighbors. See, we've never actually met our neighbors personally. My husband lived in a trailer for a month on his own before we married and he always said they were odd, but they didn't seem to be of any concern. However, once I came into the picture, that changed. The person who lived in the trailer before us was actually a cousin of mine who rented from another cousin and his wife who lived states away. Nora was a huge druggie and a drug dealer, so people got used to getting their fixes and drugs at the trailer we now live in. Then a few months before we moved in, she got in trouble with the lull and she landed in jail for some time. I guess our neighbors, who according to our landlords were drug addicts and raging alcoholics as well, thought that perhaps she was back. I'm not quite sure. I suppose this is because from where I was so sick and my husband slept when he could from both working odd hours and taking care of me. So they never actually saw us, they just knew someone was there. They became active at night. During the day they were predominantly quiet. Every once in a while they would do something outside. But for the most part, nothing really happened. It was always after my husband left for work. My car was still there, which should have told them that at least someone was still home. It started off innocently enough, driving up and down in front of the house, parking in the road directly in front of it and waiting. They'd honked a horn, but I ignored them. Several times I called my parents asking them what to do. They said for the time to just ignore them because maybe they thought Nora was back and after some time they'd get the hint that it was new people and leave me alone. So I did just that for a time. When they started driving up the driveway and stopping at the porch, that's when I first called the cops. All I was told was that as long as they didn't encroach on my actual property, there was nothing they could do. They. They advised me to turn on the lights to my house, signaling I was home. I couldn't sleep despite needing to. I had mono and panic, disorder and depression and I desperately needed sleep. My husband had the weekends off and you can guess it, no issues during the weekends. It was insane and infuriating. Everyone believed me when I said I was having problems. But there was always so much they could do. My father in law brought me over one of his shotguns, a 12 gauge. Knowing that I was a good shot, he told me to use it if need be. Another background thing is that I shot Trapped for years and when I was 18 I placed second in districts. I chose not to go to state, but knowing I was Good enough for second was a proud moment for me. My father in law made me promise that I would use it if it came to it. So I did. One night my husband was at work and I guess my body finally shut off. I fell asleep for once, only to be woken up around 1am by the sound of our neighbor's truck tearing out from behind the trailer. I jumped up and looked outside to see them driving out of our driveway. They started speeding up and down the front of the house and I called the cops again. I called my dad and mom and my dad came over because I was in a full panic attack. My dad called my husband, who came home immediately. There were tire marks in the grass behind the trailer, but they couldn't necessarily prove it was them, despite me describing their truck down to the dents. My dad told the cops, this has been going on long enough. But again, not enough evidence or proof. A week. Just one more week until I could go with my family to Florida. I somehow managed to be a bridesmaid in my older brother's wedding despite being so sick I was doped up on medications to keep me calm so I wouldn't have a panic attack. And to be honest, I don't really recall much about that day other than it poured rain. My husband naturally was at work. I was sitting at home, our two cats asleep rather soundly. I was playing my 3Ds with Markiplier on the TV for background noise. The time around midnight when my cat suddenly woke up and came unglued. They ran to the side door, then to the front door, growling and hissing, their hair on end. They had never behaved that way. So I started to get up to see what it was they were freaking out about. When I heard it. Yo, how we gonna do this? I froze. I heard them. I heard their footsteps as they walked up and down the front porch. I wasn't sure how many there were, but I know for a fact there were at least three men outside. My curtains were closed and most of the lights were off, but the TV was on and surely they could hear Markiplier's eccentric volume, right? They had gotten quieter. I heard their footsteps on the porch again. I grabbed my phone, shakily swiping until I found my dad's number and called him. I remember breathing hard, feeling a panic attack setting in. Hello? Dad, they're here. They're here. I remember sobbing. They're on the porch, dad. I'm on my way. Call the cops. I hung up with them. Then I heard them talking among themselves about how they wanted to break in, what they wanted, etc. I ran into their bedroom, grabbed the 12 gauge shotgun, opened the chamber to see it fully loaded, and called the cops. I left the lights off. I decided I was going to have them caught this time. I wasn't going to run them off. The dispatch answered and I told him what was going on. As sick as I was, I managed to hold that shotgun to my shoulder, pointed at the door, remembering everything my dad had taught me about shooting while I was a hunter and when I shot traps. But I was still scared out of my mind. Somehow I kept my panic attack down but was still breathing hard. Honey, calm down your breathing. You said they're outside, right? Yes. I heard one say they heard me and then the other one said that it wouldn't be a problem. Oh my God, they're coming. Sweetie, I promise I'm armed. I yelled, hoping they'd hear me. Armed? Armed with what, sweetheart? A 12 gauge. They want to hurt me and I'm not going to let them. She's armed. I heard him tell the police, who I suppose were on their way. I also heard armed from one of the guys outside, then silence. I then heard their footsteps leaving, then saw the lights to my dad's truck. Okay, my dad's here now, I told him. I lowered the shotgun and ran outside. My dad and younger brother were running out of the truck. My dad had the judge in his hand, which is a pistol that shoots 12 gauge rounds. It feels like a freaking hand cannon. You'd swear you'd just broken your wrist while my younger brother was holding a knife. It's my dad and my brother. They're armed too, I told the dispatcher. Okay, then what of the men? I don't see them anymore. When the cops get there, disarm yourselves, okay? The dispatcher told me. I thank the dispatcher for everything. And about this time the cops pulled up. I told my dad and younger brother to disarm, so they put their weapons in the truck while I took my gun inside and sat it in the kitchen on top of our dinner table. My dad told me to get back in the house and for my younger brother to go with me. As soon as I stepped inside, the panic attack hit. My dad came inside for a moment and hugged me, telling me how brave I had been especially for holding it as long as I did. Shaking, crying, gasping for breath, I listened as he went back outside. The cops found footprints in an area on the porch where the men had tried to break in at one point, but the men had scattered, leaving it difficult for the cops to trace where exactly they came from. My dad told them it was the neighbors, and my landlords actually called and told the cops it was more than likely our neighbors as well, who had apparently been giving my cousin who lives up the road, a difficult time as well. The cops noticed some of the footprints went into the neighbor's yard, but they weren't home. Of course. I remember my dad and younger brother standing outside just as the cops pulled up, yelling as loudly as they could that they would drop them if they ever so much saw them around me again. Enough is enough. My dad yelled over and over. She's sick and she needs rest. Leave her the hell alone or I swear to God I'll kill all of you. I'm not playing. Leave my daughter alone. And I noticed he was crying. My dad isn't the type of person to do that. My whole life I've seen my dad cry a handful of times when he talked about his deceased father. When my mom's mom died, when the doctors told me I was on death's door. When my younger brother was born. There's a 10 year's difference between me and him, 12 between him and his older brother. My dad had been scared that he wouldn't get there in time and maybe, just maybe, I would hesitate to protect myself. But I had made up my mind. I wasn't going to let them get away with it anymore. That night, my husband came home from work and hugged me so tightly I thought that my lungs would burst. My younger brother texted him what was going on, but reassured him I was okay. A week later, I went to Florida. Time went on and I'm still getting better. As for my neighbors, I've never had problems from them again. I'm not sure if it was the cops actually going to their house or if it was my dad and younger brother threatening them. Or maybe it was me, them hearing me saying I was armed. I don't know. I don't care. They're still there, but I know they won't do anything ever again. We've moved from that place and it's been a few years since then. While I still have depression, anxiety, and random panic attacks from time to time, I'm now doing much better mentally and physically. We are so glad to have that chapter out of our lives behind us. My parents have basically been divorced all my life, so every other weekend I would go visit my dad. He, my stepmom, and two of my stepsisters lived in a trailer and that's where I would go for the weekend. A lot of the people in the park are actually pretty normal and there are a lot of old people that live there, to be honest, but there are some major freaking weirdos, I'll tell you. Anyways, I was probably around 7 years old at the time and one of my stepsisters was around 9. We lived next door to a family and usually hung out with the daughter in the family, Shiloh. The three of us would stay out until like 2am God knows why our parents let us do that in the sketchy neighborhood and we would also hang out at Shiloh's house a lot. Her dad was always home and he would play with us, watch TV with us, etc. I never thought that he was one of the creepy sickos of the neighborhood. There is or was a clear shot view from Shiloh's living room through our kitchen window and into my stepsister's room. Now my stepsister had a habit of leaving doors open when she would go to the bathroom, go change, etc. You can see where this is going. One day the two of us were playing out on the front lawn when Shiloh's dad came walking up to us. I clearly remember him standing near us and watching and we were looking up at him. He directly looked at my stepsister smiling and then said, hey Alex, I watched you change through your kitchen window last night as young kids would do. We flipped the hell out. I just didn't understand it at the time. I was just reacting to Alex freaking out. Alex ran inside crying, told our parents and they called the cops. I don't know what happened after that exactly. Shiloh and her brother Jimmy moved to Florida to live with their grandparents and their dad was arrested. Not exactly sure what for though. After them another family moved in and that dad was arrested too. Not sure why, but we weren't allowed to talk to any more neighbors after that. Finally they just took the damn cursed trailer out for good and the lot is still empty next to our house. All in all, I really don't want to see Jimmy's dad again. Freaking pedo. For context, I live in a small trailer court in central Wisconsin and directly next to us is a railway that goes across the whole state and leads to a Wally world if you were to head down for about 20 minutes. I was a teenager in the 8th grade at the time with no car or two transportation other than a bike. The railroad tracks go in a straight line directly leading to the Walmart, so if I were to take the bike to Walmart. It takes me about the same time as if I walked straight down the tracks. So more often than not I would walk as I never really was a big fan of riding bikes as I've had back issues ever since I was very young. On this date in particular, I decided to head to Walmart for dumb kid stuff shortly before the sun was about to set. This detail will come into play later. Basically I just went to the store and got distracted just looking around. I bought some food and a drink and some trading cards, but I left as the sun was going down. It was about a 2025 minute walk home and I decided to head down to the tracks again at about a 10 minute mark. It was getting very dark and I was generally a fearful and anxious child due to my autism. I was scared of the dark until I was about 14 and a half and would often have nightmares or see things that weren't there in my closet or dark corners. So as it became too dark to see, I was getting extremely nervous and hypervigilant. Five minutes later I could swear I was hearing footsteps crunching in the rocks lining these tracks that weren't mine. I stopped a few times to listen and confirmed someone was walking towards me from a significant distance away. I couldn't see them at this point because of the darkness and lack of lighting across the railroad tracks. I had no phone or flashlight of any kind. At this point. I had started freaking out internally. At first I didn't know what to do, but as the sound of the footsteps got closer I decided to call out and let them know that I was coming towards them. I stopped as I did this and said something along the lines of is someone there? While I know this might seem silly as an adult, but I was so used to my brain playing tricks on me in darkness and I was convinced I was hearing things. No response at this point the footsteps were getting closer but still difficult to distinguish over my own, so I stopped. The footsteps continued for a brief moment and then they stopped too. I called out again and said hello, is anyone there? No response yet again. I was still prepubescent and I had a child's voice. I feel like any reasonable adult would have responded and said yeah, I'm just walking or whatever as I had genuine noticeable fear in my voice. After I received no response again, I told myself I was just imagining the whole thing and just continued on my journey at this point being just under 15 minutes from my house. And then I heard them again, footsteps coming closer. As soon as I started walking at this point, the fear took over and I started yelling and making whooping sounds, thinking it might be some sort of animal. And I yelled things like, hey, I know you're there, and I have a knife on me. Which was total bullcrap, but I thought I might encourage this person to respond. Still nothing. A few times as I was speaking, I would hear the footsteps stop again. Finally, about three, five minutes later, stopping multiple times and hearing footsteps stop. I was in total fight or flight at this point, scared out of my mind. So it gets a little hazy from here. I start seeing this guy materialize right out of the darkness. He had on blue jeans and a dark hoodie with the hood completely masking his face from a distance. I was instantly relieved, for whatever reason, relieved to know I wasn't crazy, I guess. I don't know. But I began verbally vomiting to this guy that I was just scared and I don't know that he was on the tracks for sure. He again didn't respond. And this was before mainstream Bluetooth audio, and I didn't notice any headphone cables when I passed him because he didn't respond. I was eyeing him wearily as he approached, and then we locked eyes. I will never forget the chill that ran down my spine in that moment. He was staring at me coldly and blankly with a menacing look in his eyes, like he was thinking about what to do next. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, and as I was passing him, it looked like he was gonna pull something out of them in his right hand. I was a very scrawny kid back then, and even though I have back problems, I was fast as hell. I just hurt from running for too long. From then on, going down the tracks at a full sprint, it was all a blur. I tripped and fell twice as well as soaked myself in mud when I tried to get across the small ditch separating the track from the trailer park. But I did finally get home. I never told my mom, and I never walked on those tracks at night again. After reading through this again, I thought I would describe the tracks a bit for context. They're on an elevated hill next to the trailers, and you can either walk a minute in the wrong direction or get on the main road that I live on, or you can cut through this one small spot where some people had to put a board down for that exact purpose, you know, to get across the ditch and onto the tracks. The board was broken in half and partially submerged, so it was kind of like you had to jump and land on the board with one foot and then kick off to the other side. The ditches may be three feet across, so it's not a huge jump, but it always has nasty standing water in it. Once you get on the tracks, there's a super long stretch with absolutely no way off other than private property of a factory that the railway delivers goods to which you can get in trouble for trespassing on. Then there's a junction about 20 minutes down and another five minutes from there which is where the Walmart is. Due to this, I couldn't just get off the tracks when I ran away. I had to get to the ditch before I would be able to it.