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This true scary wordplay story occurred in the autumn of 2012 in Glasgow, Scotland. The light was fading as it was the evening and Glasgow gets very cold at this time of the year, so there is a bitter chill in the air. At around 6pm my two friends Neelam and Aleda, who were both in their early 20s at the time, worked as beauticians in a beauty salon in the West End area of the city and were just closing up for the evening when a group of three fairly large men wearing ski masks aggressively pushed the door open and then barged into the salon storefront. They were carrying blue plastic shopping bags that were bulging. The men then closed the large front shutter down and had Neelam and Aleda trapped in the store. Both of my friends were a bit stunned and they didn't know what to say or do. The men began screaming and asking where the female owner of the salon was, to which they both shakily replied that they didn't know, which was true, as the owner was hardly ever there in person. The men had very thick Glaswegian accents and it seemed as though they were white. However, the girls were not certain about this. Although both of the girls were scared, they thought the men seemed fairly amateurish and thought they would just leave after realizing that the owner wasn't there. Well, things took a much sinister turn, however, when suddenly the three men pulled out hammers and silver duct tape. The men then marched Neelam and Aleda to the back area of the salon where they bound their hands and feet and wrapped their mouths up with the duct tape. They were forced to sit down in chairs with wheels on them and were taped to the chairs. The thugs then debated on what to do next, waiting on the off chance that the owner would come in or leave. Now. Of course, the girls were obviously petrified at this point and were hoping they'd just leave. They Neland was especially scared as she actually had a cold at the time and was really struggling with the tape that was now sealing her mouth. Her glasses also slid off her face as she was struggling, so she was now also struggling to see. She tried to tell the men if they could take the tape off her mouth because of her cold, but she was only able to mumble as her mouth was taped very tightly. One of the men yelled at her to shut up. She tried her best to not cry as that would have just made things even worse for her. Aeda, on the other hand, was still very shocked by everything that was happening, but was mainly concerned for Neelam and was just Praying that the thugs would go away. She also tried to speak, but to no avail. By this point, Neelim was breathing very loudly and erratically through her nose. Thankfully, after a few minutes of looking at the girls and around the salon, they decided to just exit the salon's front door, but not before smashing the cash register and some mirrors with their hammers. They also threw some of the salon's equipment across the store. Surprisingly, the men didn't actually steal anything from the store. They then left the salon and they left Neelam and Aleda taped up and gagged out back. Neelam's hard breathing popped the duct tape covering her mouth in and out. The girls struggled for quite a while to free themselves from the tape, but Naleeda moved her chair towards some hairdressing equipment and eventually managed to use a pair of scissors to free her hands and feet and then removed the duct tape from her and Neelam's mouths, which was very painful as the tape pulled out some of their long dark hair. As soon as Neelam was freed, they called the police. The police finally arrived and gave the girls some blankets and took them to ask questions. The whole incident only realistically lasted for about 20 minutes, although of course it felt much longer. Thankfully, the girls were not hurt. However, they were both very shaken up for a long time after this, and the men were never caught. As far as they were aware. Both Neelam and Aleda attended identify lineups. However, they could never say if any of the men they saw were any of the thugs because the trio had ski masks on. Both Neelam and Aleda are of South Asian Pakistani ancestry and Aleda did think. One of the men did say something in Urdu at one point, but was not 100% sure. Both of my friends quit the salon immediately following this incident and they got jobs elsewhere. Both are doing extremely well now and they've put this awful incident behind them. They never did find out what those men wanted with the owner and they're really grateful she wasn't there as things could have been so much worse. They of course had their own suspicions about the owner after this horrible incident, but they were both just thankful to be okay and away from that salon forever. And thankfully, they're now both doing very well and happy in their own lives. This happened when I was in high school. I must have been a junior or senior at the time. We had just moved to a different city away from family. The area and neighborhood itself wasn't bad, but this part of town really had a reputation for having the most crime, especially catalytic Converter thefts Think of a city that's divided into north and south. We lived in the south side of the city. Some background information that's important. My dad would regularly leave the country for weeks or months at a time and go stay in his country of origin to get away from the stress of the city life. So he was usually always gone, which meant that it was just my mom, my brother and I. My brother would always go out and was really hardly ever home, so it would mostly just be me and my mom home. I should add that I'm also a female. One thing to note is that my brother has always had this habit of buying trucks, modifying them and then eventually selling them once he got bored of them. When this story happened he had a lifted white Chevy Silverado and another lifted truck. I should also mention that the layout of my house is important in this story. The houses in this neighborhood all have the same base layout but in different variations. My house is basically shaped like a lowercase inn with our front door being down this semi long hall and our rooms being at the front of the house. Next to our house is a long driveway where half is behind a gate that locks from the inside while the rest of our driveway is exposed. The part of the driveway that is behind the gate is right next to my parents room. My parents have two windows in the corner of their rooms, one looking out into the street and while looking out to the driveway behind the gate. Our house had a partial chain link fence that only covered the front yard but didn't actually enclose it, which meant people could just walk right in through my driveway and across the front yard to get to our house. My dad thought it was pointless to add a proper fence all around the yard since he wanted the yard to also be used as parking and adding a driveway gate to the front was too much work as it would require us to get out of our cars to open and close it. Anyway, sorry for the long background information, but I thought it was important to add. Now back to the story. This happened when my dad was out of the country so it was just me and my mom at home since my brother went out for that evening. My brother had left in his other truck so the white Chevy was behind the driveway gate. My mom and I were in our own rooms just scrolling through our phones. I was on my phone just doom scrolling when I saw that my mom was calling me. My parents room is right next to mine so I thought it was odd that she was calling me instead of just coming over to My room, I answered, and my mom then told me in a quiet voice to come to her room because she had heard a guy talking outside her window and could see him outside. I got up and walked into her room, but I didn't see the guy outside her window. She told me that he had left on a bike, but that she had heard him talking to himself and peering into the driveway where my brother kept his truck. She wasn't sure if he was just some random guy that was confused and wandering into people's houses while talking to himself, or if this was someone that wanted to steal my brother's truck and was communicating with someone else that we couldn't see. I ended up going back to my room since it looked like the guy had left. Maybe about 10 minutes later, my mom lets me know that the guy is back and that he's talking to himself or someone else, but can't make out what he's saying. I go into her room and that's when I see the silhouette of the guy she's talking about. I can't really make out what he's saying, but in the time I'm trying to process who this guy is and what he's saying, he walks off. It's at this point that my mom calls my brother and tells him what's going on. My brother then comes home and my mom tells him the whole story of the weird dude outside in the driveway. Since my brother came home, I thought he was planning on staying home for the whole night since it's just my mom and I alone. Nope. My brother just decides to give me a quick lesson on how to use a pistol in case I need to use it. Then he leaves again. Now, luckily, the guy didn't come back after that and nothing happened for the rest of the night. We didn't call the police because even though he was technically in our driveway trespassing, we didn't hear him breaking in and we just assumed he was just some guy on drugs that was just wandering around on his bike and talking to himself. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he was there to steal from the truck. I'm not sure if my brother coming home scared him or what, but either way, I'm really glad nothing else happened. Every cop sees something that they'll never forget, something that will stick with them for the rest of their life. What I'm about to describe to you is that story for me. This is the most disturbing thing I've ever witnessed. When I turned 21, I joined the police force in A remote town that I won't name. The department needed new officers and I was a young father who needed the money. So the timing was perfect. Because I was a rookie, they assigned me to the night shift. It ran from 6 at night to 6 in the morning. The guys at the gas station sometimes teased me about my hours, saying that I always work the crummiest shifts. I actually didn't mind them. I've always been a night owl. The guys even called me Nighthawk. And honestly, I kind of like that. Besides busting people for speeding and pulling over the occasional drunk, I spent most nights sitting back listening to podcasts. In a weird way, it was kind of relaxing. After a year in the department, something happened one night that changed everything. A severe thunderstorm rolled into town and caused major power outages. Torrential downpour flooded most of the major roads. To be in the best position possible when accident reports came in, I parked my cruiser in a parking lot in the middle of town. At 2am, our dispatcher Claire radioed in. She reported that someone who sounded like an adult male claimed to have been kidnapped. They told her they were held captive inside someone's home. Then the call ended when she redialed, the caller didn't answer. My cruiser had a built in computer display that showed all the call details based on the address. I was about 10 minutes away, so I was probably the closest officer. I radioed in and told her I'd respond. I also requested backup. Another new officer named Chris chimed in and said he'd be at the location in five. Claire clicked on her radio button, hesitated for a few seconds over the static. Then she said that the callers sounded like they were altering their voice in some way, possibly through digital means to make themselves sound like a child. She used the specific phrase like a young girl. She concluded that officers should proceed with extreme caution. All of us were pretty close to the station, so we really felt nervous for one another during high risk cases like these. I radioed back and said 104 and then drove to the scene. When I turned into the neighborhood, I saw that every single street lamp was out. The entire block had lost power. That meant it would have low visibility into the home we were investigating, which put us in even greater danger. I followed my GPS to the end of the street where the house was and saw that Chris had already beaten me. His cruiser was idling in front of the house. I pulled up next to him and rolled down my window. Chris then commented on the home's poor condition. I glanced ahead, taking it in for Myself. The grass was knee high. Overgrown bushes blocked out the windows. The roof was dented in several areas and had a ton of missing shingles. It looked completely abandoned. This sent off alarm bells in my head. You can gather a lot about someone's mental state by how they treat their living space. I told Chris I'd take the lead. We both stepped out of our cruisers into the pouring rain, opened our umbrellas, and followed a waterlogged path up to the door. Chris clicked on his flashlight. Whenever a second officer like Chris is present during an investigation, their entire job is to protect the leading officer by monitoring the suspect's body language. If the suspect makes a move on the cop that's interrogating them, they neutralize the threat. Chris made the perfect backup because he was both observant and calm under pressure. This allowed me to focus solely on the suspect's story and if I was hearing the truth. When we reached the door, I rang the bell. Then we stood there, listening for movement inside. Rain pounded against our backs. After a few seconds, footsteps shuffled up to the door. Then they paused. Whoever was on the other side stood completely still, just waiting. A strange feeling came over me that we were being watched. Slowly, my gaze drifted over to the peephole. As soon as I made eye contact, a distorted shape moved back, like whoever was watching us had pulled their head away. If you're in there, I said, we'd like to ask you a few questions. Open up, please. They froze again, as if they were thinking about what to do next. Then the lock started turning. The door creaked open, but only by a foot. From the darkness, a man peeked out of the crack. It looked like he was in his early 30s. He was overweight, balding, and wore thick brimmed glasses. I took a single look into his eyes and sensed that he was hiding something. I informed him that we'd received a call from his address of someone claiming to have been kidnapped. The man acted confused. He apologized and told us it must have been a pocket dial. I asked him if it was a pocket dial. Then how could he explain the voice on the phone call? For a split second, the man averted his gaze, then said that he didn't know anything about a voice. I asked him if there was anyone else in the house, and he said he lived alone. Then I told him that for safety reasons, we needed to have a look inside. Not without a warrant, he said. These days a warrant can be obtained in minutes. I went back to my cruiser, called dispatch and requested communication with the on call magistrate. Five minutes later, Claire came back on the radio and told me the judge approved a telephonic warrant and emailed it. We were clear to enter. I showed the warrant to the man. He reluctantly pulled the door open, and I could see that his hands were visibly shaking. I clicked on my own flashlight and stepped inside. A putrid smell immediately hit me. I scanned around to find the source and saw a hallway straight ahead and a room directly to my right. I shined my light into the room and saw what looked like a living room. It was absolutely disgusting. Piles of clothes and stacks of dirty dishes were spread all across the carpet. Cockroaches crawled all over them. A couch that looked like it was pulled off the side of the road sat at an angle against the wall. This man obviously used this room as his living space. I'd seen these sorts of living conditions in drug cases before. When I turned to look back at the man, he shifted uncomfortably. I made a mental note to check for paraphernalia once I'd confirmed the house was safe. Then I stepped toward the hallway. My foot struck something. I looked down. In the beam of my flashlight. I saw a pink Barbie doll playhouse that I knew I'd seen before. I thought about it, and I realized I'd bought this exact set for my daughter just last year for Christmas. I asked the man if he had kids. He said no, but explained to us that sometimes his nieces came over, so he kept a few toys around for them. Chris and I exchanged a look. No mother in their right mind would allow children into this environment. I told him that this was his last chance to tell me if anyone else was in the house. He assured me there wasn't. I started down the hallway and the man followed, saying that nothing was down there. Chris yanked him back by his arm and ordered him to stay put. The hallway had an open room on either side and a closed door at the end, which was probably the basement. I peeked inside the first bedroom. Scanning from left to right, I saw more children's toys and even items like diapers scattered across the floor. In the corner, the dark shape of a person was hunched over. I drew my weapon only to realize that it was a doll sagging its head down in a rocking chair. The shock of that visual made my heart pound. I leaned against the door frame and steadied my breathing. Chris asked me what I had seen. Before I could respond, I had started studying the doll. It was the largest one I'd ever seen, every bit as big as a person, and the man addressed it in women's Clothing on the bed beside it, ladies blouses, jeans, and lingerie were folded into neat piles. Each pile was separated by a color. Meanwhile, the rest of the house was pigsty. What was happening in this room felt wrong on so many different levels. All clear, I told Chris. I moved further down the hall and glanced into the second bedroom. This one was empty. I reached the final door at the end of the hall when, from behind me, the man called and asked if I'd like to see the upstairs instead. I told him yes, but first I was going to see the basement. The man said again that there was nothing down there. I heard Chris tell the man to stay chill, which meant he was probably trying to follow me down the hall. The closer I moved into this part of the house, the more agitated he became. I reached for the handle, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open. It squealed on its hinges. A set of wooden steps descended into a pitch black room. I shined my light down. I could only see the area that surrounded the landing. It looked equally as messy as the upstairs. From deep inside the room and an area I couldn't see, something rattled. I told Chris that I heard movement. The man responded again, apologizing to me and Chris over and over again. Even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I had no choice. The man was lying to us. Someone was down there. I headed down the staircase. Each step creaked under my weight. The rattling noise from inside the room grew louder behind me. The man repeatedly begged us to stop looking around. I neared the landing and swept my flashlight across the stacks of boxes. No one appeared in my line of sight. Across the room, there was another door. The noise was coming from up there. I drew my weapon. I commanded whoever was inside to come out slowly with their hands up. Whoever was inside stopped moving. I shouted the same command a second time. The door remained shut. I crossed the room, sliding between boxes and old furniture that blocked the way. My sights were trained on the door. When I stood within several feet, I paused, listening. Whoever was inside also remained perfectly still. My anxiety ticked up with each second. So many things could go wrong in this situation. I moved to the side of the door frame in case they were armed and tried to fire through the door. I reached for the knob, grabbed on, and twisted. Then I swung the door open. I was still hidden to the side of the frame. If anything besides empty hands emerged, I would have to use deadly force. After several agonizing moments, nothing came. I said a quick prayer and then aimed my weapon right into the room. What I saw, I really can't go into detail on, but basically, this is what happened. A man in his 40s was being held captive in that basement. He was a father of three and a respected member of the community. Months after he went missing, everyone, including his own family, assumed he was dead. After two years in captivity, he finally got the chance to escape earlier in the night. Before we arrived, the homeowner brought the victim's dinner down and made the mistake of leaving his phone behind. The victim managed to activate Siri and call 911. When we arrived on scene, the victim had already been confined in a way that prevented him from calling upstairs or making any kind of substantial noise. Then when I ordered him to come out, he froze in fear. Not because he couldn't obey my command, but because he didn't want me to use lethal force, thinking that he was a threat. Once I opened the door and found him. We arrested the homeowner on the spot and then took the victim to the hospital for immediate treatment. I feel incredibly lucky that no one was harmed and that we could reunite this poor man with his family. But the most disturbing detail, which has haunted me every day since, is how my dispatcher described the voice of the man who made the call. Why was he speaking like a child? The only explanation that really makes sense is that this man was forced to speak in that young tone of a voice for so long that even when he called the station, that's the only way it could communicate. And if he was forced to do that, what else inside that house was he forced to do? These are the questions that keep me up at night. So good, so good. So good.