← Southern Cannibal's Scary Stories
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- [00:02]
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- [00:30]
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Storyteller 1
This happened two summers ago while I was house sitting out in California for an older couple that I'd met at a conference for work. It had seemed like a dream scenario. The couple wanted to vacation in Hawaii for two weeks but didn't want to board their cats and I had been chatting with them about wanting to visit California again where they happened to live because I had really loved it the first time I went and we figured that we could mutually benefit if I came out and house set for them. So I flew out there and they showed me around for a few days and taught me how to care for the cats and plants and gave me access to their house and cars. It was two of their cats, one that was extremely shy and I barely saw, which is important later. These people truly were so generous and before I knew it I had dropped them off at the airport and I was on my own. At first it really was the dream vacation. I was staying in Oakland and making forays into San Fran Sonoma in Monterrey. In the mornings I could walk out the front door and shortly be hiking the path surrounding nearby Mount Diablo and was just ultra content with the world. I was so enamored by the area that I had actually started looking into taking steps to relocate out there even. But then one day about halfway through my final week there, when I got back to the house, I felt really odd, almost like I shouldn't go inside. I shook it off and went inside anyway because it was getting late and I needed to put out dinner for the cats. Once I was inside I had forced myself to ignore how off I felt and I then made some food for myself and went to bed and was shocked to find the shy cat hiding under my bed and crying. This was the first time I had even seen her close up the entire time I had been there up to that point, she had never left my host's bedroom unless she didn't realize I was around again. I ignored feeling weird and just assumed that she had decided I was okay and went to bed. I did start locking my bedroom door that night though. I also remember that about halfway through that night I thought I heard someone walking around in the gravel outside of my window, but after listening for a bit, I didn't hear anything else and went back to sleep. The day after. In the morning I still felt a little odd, but kept up with my plans for the day. I drove out to a little music festival in Sonoma and went clothes shopping and had an overall great day. When I got back to the house though, I I found the front door locked in a way that I hadn't left it. Basically, my host never locked the deadbolt, only the lower second lock and that's the only lock my key worked on, so I never messed with the deadbolt, but it was definitely locked. So I had to call my host and find the hide a key which to their credit safety wise was buried like a whole foot underneath the bush right outside and had definitely not been unearthed for a long time. So I used that, went inside and kept the key with me just in case it happened again. And it did, but with a different door this time I had stepped out into the garage to get a drink and when I turned around to go back into the house the door was shut and locked. I could use my normal key on that door and I was still pretty bewildered. My own cats are wack. So I think in my mind I was still trying to come up with a way the cats would be locking me out of the house, but I was coming up empty. I decided that I must have been misunderstanding how the locks worked and just wrote it off and started checking and triple checking the locks when I went out of the house or out into the garage. That night when I went to bed, the really awful feeling of unease was still there and so was the shy cat who was clearly unhappy to see me but also wouldn't leave my room. But again, I just locked my bedroom door and went to sleep. The next morning I felt awful, nausea, body aches. I had no desire to leave the house so I decided to just stay in and netflix for a day. This vacation stay was like a full two weeks, so I didn't feel like I was in any hurry to get all my touristy things in anyways. But as the day went on I started to feel that Feeling of wrongness yet again. And it morphed into feeling incredibly watched. Around mid afternoon, it got to the point that I was so uneasy that even feeling awful, I decided to get out of the house for a bit to shake it off. I was getting a bit low on food, so I went to the grocery store and bought a couple of food items that I didn't think would hurt my stomach. And as I started to leave the checkout, the cashier said the generic have a great evening. And I just instantly started crying, shocking myself and the poor cashier because I just had this intrusive thought that said, you might be the last person to ever say that to me. When I got to my car, I was still crying and my entire body was telling me to not drive back to the house. I couldn't, not though, because I didn't want to neglect the cats. So I drove back, parked in the driveway and convinced myself after about half an hour to just go open the front door. Once I did that, I thought I would get over it and be able to go in and at least feed the cats and then maybe I'd get a hotel room after. But my body physically would not let me inside. It was like I was stuck in the entryway. I then made a deal with myself. I would yell into the house saying I had already called the police and that they were on their way in panic logic, I figured that would make anyone in the house leave. So I faced inside the house looking down the hallway towards the bedrooms, and I did just that the second that I had finished saying, they're almost here, so. So if you want to avoid being arrested, you need to leave now. The light in my host's room turned on and I heard some banging. I immediately hightailed it back to the car, called the police for real, and proceeded to have a mental breakdown while talking to the dispatcher. Once they got there, they checked the house and didn't find anyone. But the double doors in my host's bedroom were left wide open. I'm so glad the cats didn't get out. There was a pile of food wrappers in the corner behind the blinds, so they said it looked like someone had been there. What makes it so scary to me is that nothing was taken. And based on the shape of the house, that would have been the perfect vantage point to see me in the living room as I stayed home sick. To explain this, the house was in L shape and from the windows into the garden that were in my host bedroom, you could see into the living room. Windows. Also, the men at the police were gone. They said they couldn't prove anyone was there, there were no signs of forced entry and we couldn't get ahold of my hosts immediately to verify if anything had been taken, which once they were back they verified that nothing had been taken, so they said they'd patrol a bit, but nothing else. The shy cat was right back in my host's bedroom and I didn't see her again until I left to go back home. So basically I think the intruder had been there at least two days, forcing her to choose between two strangers and leading her to choose the one that was at least a little less strange. Me. It messed me up pretty badly, especially because they didn't catch the person and didn't seem to have any desire to actually look and I still had to stay in that house for the next three days. Nothing else odd had happened and I didn't feel anything off for the rest of the time I was there, but the damage was already done. I've never felt completely safe in a home without doing a complete search before bed since, but I'm extremely glad my gut spoke up. I guess I'd rather have some residual anxiety than be dead.
- [08:25]
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- [08:58]
Storyteller 1
Warning the following story mentions the death of an animal as well as attempted murder. Some of you may want to skip this one. For everyone else if you're already, let's continue. The story happened more than 10 years ago when I was still a student. It has a few graphic details of animal harm and graphic violence so discretion is advised. A bit of backstory as with most students, I was always broke and had a few ventures apart from my part time job to bring me extra money. One of them was house and pet sitting. I have always had a love for animals, so when this couple contacted me to ask me to house sit for them for the last few days before they returned from their overseas trip as the last sitter has billed on them and their six month old golden retriever puppy would be alone, I jumped at the opportunity. The fact that they promised to pay me the full two week fee for staying there less than A week made it just more appealing. Little did I know how bad it would turn out. I got the details, got the keys from the agent and headed over to the house as it was already after 5pm and almost dark as it was early spring. I got to the house, which was a really nice place by the way, but it bordered a not so good area that was and still was very prone to crime, house break ins, robberies, etc. It didn't bother me too much because you know, nothing will ever happen to me. I know. Young and naive. The first four nights went without a hitch. Watching movies, jacuzzi and just generally enjoying myself. The owners would have returned on the fifth day fairly late at night. I went on over to check on the doggo. I got a call from them at about 10pm saying their flight got delayed. They're going to stay at a hotel and do the three and a half hour drive back the following morning and they asked if I could sleep there again that night, which was fine. I was already there and I had my overnight bag with me still in my car. I called my dad to let him know of the plans as I was still staying with my parents and he specifically asked what the address was. I normally didn't give them the details like that because I was old enough to look after myself. I still believe to this day that that probably saved my life. I eventually got to bed at about 1am and it felt like I had only slept five minutes. When I was awoken to a window breaking, I could hear movement and what sounded like footsteps running down the hallway. The first thing I did was grab my phone and just hit redial. Thanks to my old Motorola phone, redialing was as simple as just pressing one button as my dad was the last number that I had called, hoping that he would wake up from the call. I then dropped the phone in between the headboard and mattress in case my dad picks up so that he can hear what's going on. I had barely done that when the first guy stormed through the bedroom door. I could see his silhouette and he had a knife in his hand. When he saw me, he raised it and came at me. Now, one thing to those that are unfamiliar with South Africa and the crime is that robberies and house invasions usually are very brutal and violent. People get murdered or tortured if they in the slightest retaliate or not cooperate with the robbers. And when he came within reach, I kicked both legs out as hard as I could. Now, I'm not a small guy by any means. I. I'm 6 foot 3 and at that stage I weighed about 220 pounds and I was fit and strong. My time not spent at the university or work was. At the gym I could do an easy 250 pound bench 350 pound squat. When I kicked and made contact with the guy, it completely lifted off the ground and shot into the wall. Luckily, the knife shot out of his hand as well. Before he got the chance to get up, I was on top of him, driving my knee right into his face and in return his head into the wall. I knew that my life depended on it, so I put in some extra force. The guy dropped like a sack of potatoes. But before I could get up, I heard the sound of a pistol cock and I froze. It felt like all of the blood drained from my body and I became just numb. I remember the only thing that went through my head was that if he shot me that I would rather die than be disabled or dependent on other people that'll to take care of me. He stood like that with the pistol against my head for what felt like hours, but was probably less than 10 seconds. I did not move and he eventually said in very broken English to get on the bed face down. I panicked, but thought if he wanted to shoot me that he already would have done so. So I did as he said. He threw a blanket over me and I turned into a fetal position with my back against the wall, just so that if they wanted to stab me that I had my legs and arms in front to protect my body. Now, by that time I had forgotten that I had called my dad and the guy that I need is still down. I heard a third guy come into the room and I could hear what sounded like Portuguese to me. I couldn't understand what he said, but I recognized it as we used to go to Mozambique on holiday a lot and that is the main language spoken there. The one guy tried to get the guy that I put down off the ground while the other started to ransack the house, shoving valuables into a big bag. It was about at this time that I heard tires screeching and a car approaching. The car skidded to a halt right in front of the gate and I heard someone scream. It was my dad. The three inside the house panicked and ran out the back door and tried to jump the fence. My dad opened fire, shooting in their general direction. Now I know that my dad missed them on purpose because if he wanted to hit them, he would, as he's not one of but the best shot that I know. And I'm not just saying that because he's my dad. His ex army forces or recess for those in the know, represented South Africa in the clay pigeon world championships a couple of years. He has various regional pistol and rifle championship titles and is a gunsmith by occupation. I've seen him hit golf balls at 50 meters with his pistol. Politics and the racial situation in the country would have had him in big trouble had he hit one of them. I grabbed the house keys and pressed the gate remote and my dad called the police while he came in. I met him at the front door and we walked out to the car to wait there for the police. It took them over an hour to get there. Some excuse of no vehicle available. By that time I'd calmed down and I'd started to look for the dog. I couldn't find her anywhere. I grabbed a flashlight from my dad and started scanning the surrounding yard and as I got to the corner I could see her laying on the ground. I got to her and I saw she was dead. Later autopsies revealed she was poisoned and the police found pieces of me laced with poison near the fence. Poisoning is pretty standard practice in my country for dealing with dogs. At a house or area that is targeted for a break in or robbery. I was fuming and so sad. The police were also pretty useless and had a don't give a crap attitude and they barely took our statements. By that time it was starting to get light and I retrieved my bag, phone and locked the house as well as I could without touching anything and drove home behind my dad. Only when I got home did I get the story from my dad's side. He answered my call only to hear the shouting and what sounded like five fighting going on in the background and when I didn't respond he flew out of the house and raced right over. Luckily he had asked me for the address the previous night and he knows the area well to know exactly which house it is. Now. My dad got there pretty quickly and he stayed on the line the whole time, only hanging up when he stopped at the gate. My parents house is about six miles from there through a residential area. It's normally about a 20 minute drive. The call duration was 7 minutes and 13 seconds. I met the detective there later that day, gave my statement, they took fingerprints, etc. And the owners got back about the same time. The rest of the day was a blur as I came down from the shock and adrenaline. Now that is not where the story actually ends. About seven or eight months later I got a call from the detective telling me they caught the guys and that I must come to a lineup to point them out. I specifically told her that I didn't see any of their faces as it was dark and after the guy held the gun against my head, I was under the blanket and didn't see anything. She assured me that they caught them on fingerprints and will show them to me beforehand. Which might not be the ethically correct way to do it, but they wanted to have as much evidence as possible against them. You will understand why in a minute. I got to the police station and unlike you see in the movies, there is no one way, glass or separate room. They bring the three guys into a room and make them stand against the wall. The one which I was later told was the leader, which was the one that I had need looked at me with so much hate as I had never seen in my life. He had the eyes of someone that would slit your throat and not blink an eye. His name was Joseph Dragonsambo. He pulled his hand up to his neck and made the slit my throat gesture. You know which one I mean. We left the room and the detective gave me a copy of his rap sheet. Amongst others, four counts of murder, I think eight to nine for attempted murder, multiple assault, aggravated assault, over 100 of house break ins and robbery and rape. I was shocked. The detective told me that had I not taken him out first and fast that night, I would have definitely not gotten away so lightly. Now this is also not where the story ends. Three days later I got another call from the detective saying that I should be careful as he escaped from custody and they haven't caught him yet. I wasn't worried too much as the robbery wasn't at my house and I had changed cars so he probably couldn't find me. Also, I got my own firearm license and carried my pistol on me 24 7. I didn't hear anything after that until about two years later when I saw the detective in the grocery shop. We started talking about the case and she told me that he was killed during a home invasion. He broke into the wrong house and the owner was waiting for him, pistol in hand. Shot him one in the stomach and one in the neck. And thanks to the slow response time of emergency services and police, it bled out on the guy's living room floor. Ridding society of a piece of human garbage. I want to add a bit of info to this. All three that were caught were Mozambican nationals, undocumented and no fingerprints or ID in the system. And it is of opinion in South Africa that more than 70% of all violent crime is done by illegal immigrants, mainly of Mozambican, Zimbabwean and Nigerian descent. It makes it fairly easy because none of those countries have extradition to South Africa, so if it gets too hot they just flee back over the border and nothing can be done to them. This whole ordeal has me more vigilant, heightened my situational awareness and made me a little paranoid to double and triple check all of the doors and locks, etc. Also thanks to my heightened situational awareness has allowed me to remove myself from a few potentially dangerous situations in the years after the incident, but it has also robbed me of my peace of mind. I have since emigrated to a safer country, but I still sometimes wake up at night if I hear a noise. So to keep up with tradition, Joseph, we will never meet again as you have passed, but to his cronies or anyone that wants to try something similar, please do pay me a visit. I will arrange your swiftly departure and reunion with Joseph and Hale. And to Joseph, I hope you died in agony for poisoning Daisy Foreign hi everyone. I need to take a small break from the stories to talk about today's sponsor, Greenchef. As we step into spring, it's the perfect time to refresh your meal routine with dietitian approved recipes from Green Chef. Perfect for supporting your wellness journey. Enjoy recipes that feature fresh organic seasonal produce and 100% responsibly sourced proteins crafted to help you feel your best. Whether it's a salad ready in just five minutes, protein packed breakfast or a smoothie to fuel your day, greenchef has you covered for the busiest days. The meals are made with real clean ingredients so you can build lasting, healthy habits without all the hassle. Make this spring your most delicious yet with Green chef. Head to greenchef.com 50 cannibal and use code 50 cannibal to get 50% off your first month, then 20% off for two months with free shipping. That's code 50 cannibal@greenchef.com 50 cannibal I'm from a small town in Appalachia with a population of less than 7,000. There were about 80 people in my high school class and people are generally very trusting. The story took place early last September, so it would have been a little less than a year ago. I was a 20 year old male at the time and had just entered my junior year of college, about three hours from my hometown. In high school I had a close cohort of friends. There were about eight of us that were very close. As things go, things change. When we went to our respective colleges, I fell out of touch with many of them, but I did retain contact with a couple of them. The ones featured in the story are Mac and Devin. Last September I got a call from my mother telling me the Devin's father had been killed in an accident on his way to work. It was a sudden but brutal collision involving a semi. Devin's family was not from the area. They had moved from my town during high school because her father had gotten a job there. Having no family and a dispersed set of friends, she didn't have many people to lean on. During this time, Mag contacted and wanted to know whether I had planned on attending the funeral which had been planned for Friday morning. I had an important class Friday afternoon, but I told him that I would come up that evening and we would help occupy Devin. Mack made the six hour drive from his college to attend the funeral and I made it into town later that evening. We decided that the three of us would spend a few hours at Mac's house. We were just going to hang out and Mac and I were determined to preoccupy Devin. I got there around 6 and we jumped right into it. We talked about college, watched Netflix and we played board games. Despite the circumstances, it was a pretty good night. I got up to leave about half an hour after midnight. After some tearful goodbyes I got in my car. Now for a little geography. Mag's house is a little more than a mile from my parents house. There are no red lights and one stop sign. @ that time of night I could make the trip in less than two minutes. Being in a rural part of Appalachia, though, the roads were far from straight. In fact, Mag's house was just off a winding two lane road. There are several blind curves that stop you from seeing what's coming up ahead and there are no guardrails or streetlights to speak of. So I start on what I thought would be a brief, uneventful journey home. I pull out of his driveway and start on my way. I start into the first blind curve and am greeted by something entirely unexpected. I see the car first. It's a wide older model sedan. It is half in my lane and half in a culvert. I have to quickly swerve to avoid hitting it and I notice a figure waving his arms as I slam on the brakes. I end up stopped on the side of the road. There's no shoulder so my car is sitting in the road and in the grass about 100ft past his car. At this point, I should have kept the car going and called the police for help when I got home. But this is not what I did. I avoided that feeling in my gut, put my car in park and opened my door. I stepped outside and immediately noticed the damage to the vehicle. The front end had serious damage. There were no other cars around, so I conclude the driver must have collided with the cliffside on the other side of the road. It is really dark though, so I have a hard time figuring out what happened. By the red light emitted from my taillights, I see the figure approaching me.
- [25:44]
Storyteller 2
Hey, buddy, I need some help.
- [25:47]
Storyteller 1
What happened? Is there someone you'd like me to call? No.
- [25:51]
Storyteller 2
I tried to call my brother, but he didn't answer. He just lives up the road.
- [25:56]
Storyteller 1
Oh, do you want me to call the police?
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Storyteller 2
No, you can't call the police. I just need my car pulled out of there.
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Storyteller 1
He points to the culvert.
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Storyteller 2
I need someone with a truck.
- [26:08]
Storyteller 1
My brother has one. He's walking closer to me and I'm beginning to make out some of his features. He's a little bit shorter than me, but he easily has £75 on me at this point. The little lie left me unable to discern much else except that he was wearing a baseball cap. Well, I don't have a truck, so I guess I can't help you. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. He kept approaching me and there was something wrong in his voice, a flatness, like he was not emotional at all about the predicament he was in. I started to walk backwards towards my car door.
- [26:44]
Storyteller 2
Drive me to my brother's house. He lives just up the road.
- [26:48]
Storyteller 1
He points in the opposite direction of my home as he walked towards my passenger side. I have to get home, man. My family's expecting me. I lied. They've all been asleep for hours. And I was still at Mac's house for all they knew.
- [27:02]
Storyteller 2
It'll just take a minute. He lives on Road Road. His house is only about a mile away.
- [27:08]
Storyteller 1
He keeps progressing. My heart is racing, but I'm in a strange predicament. I want to get the hell out of there, but there isn't an ideal way to do it. My car doors were unlocked and he was getting very close to my car, being as fast as possible. I couldn't get in and lock the door before he opened the one on the other side. I certainly couldn't put it in drive and pull away before he put at least some of himself in my passenger seat. Seeing as how he Was going to get in my car if he wanted to. I decided to go the cordial route. If this was going to happen, it was going to be on my own terms. I knew Road. Road. My sister's boyfriend actually lived there. And I knew that it was less than a mile from where I currently sat. It was a one lane holler, as we could locally refer to a hollow. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe I was about to do a good deed. Okay, get in. He sits down in my passenger seat right about the time I make it into the driver's seat. Since the doors were open, my car's interior lights were on. This was the first good look I had at him. He was older than me, probably in his late 40s. He was dirty, very dirty. His hands were greasy, his shirt full of holes, and there were literally flies congregating around him. My car instantly smelled like body odor and body fluids, if you catch my drift. I experienced immediate regret. This was a horrible idea. My parents had taught me about this. My mother was a true crime junkie and she would always warn me about situations like this. It closes the doors and the lights go out. I make a U turn and start heading toward Road. Road. He insists on talking to me, although I would much prefer the hum of the radio. He asks me my name, he asks where I live, he asks what I do. I evade every question I deem too personal for I didn't want him knowing too much information about me. I begin to get the distinct feeling that something is wrong with him. He speaks without emotion or any kind of inflection. Sometimes he has a hard time getting the words out. I conclude that he's either on a mind altering substance or he's playing with less than a full deck of cards. I also want to mention there's a serious prescription drug abuse issue in the area. We're turning onto Road. Road when he begins admiring my car. It is a fairly nice foreign car that my parents bought me for my 16th birthday. He is rubbing the dashboard with his greasy hand before he starts pressing buttons both on the car and deep in my psyche.
- [29:45]
Storyteller 2
This is a nice car, a really nice car. You know I'd have to kill for a car like this.
- [29:53]
Storyteller 1
I kid you not. He literally said he would kill for my car. I didn't immediately take it as a threat as there was absolutely no emotion in the statement and it was a common turn of phrase. Nevertheless, I was getting very uncomfortable. My sister's boyfriend's house is just barely inside. I'm so worked up that I Decide that I'm going to stop there. I'm pretty sure I could get a few beats in the door before this guy attacks me for not taking him to his brother's place. As I approach his driveway, my heart sinks. There are no cars there, and there isn't a garage. No one was home. I'm on my own now. As we pass the driveway, he says something that catches me off guard. His house is about a mile up ahead. I thought his house was a mile from your car.
- [30:40]
Storyteller 2
No, it's a mile from here.
- [30:42]
Storyteller 1
Okay. I keep driving, but look at my odometer. I'm giving him one mile. That's it. We drive in silence, for which I'm grateful. He's still fondling my dashboard, but I figure I can ignore that. We go about three quarters of a mile further up this desolate hollow. When I ask him how much further, I think he can tell I'm getting irritated and scared.
- [31:06]
Storyteller 2
Just up that way.
- [31:07]
Storyteller 1
Turn right. I stop in the middle of the abandoned road. He's pointing to a gravel road on my right. It's barely enough for my car, and it shoots steeply up the mountain.
- [31:18]
Storyteller 2
He lives up that road. Go that way.
- [31:21]
Storyteller 1
There was no way. I was about to drive further into this desolate place when it seemed as if he was making up the directions as he went. There was no sign of life up there, and we had already gone further than he had originally said. No, that's as far as we go. I said to him, get out.
- [31:40]
Storyteller 2
No, come on, man, we're almost there. Just turn up that way.
- [31:44]
Storyteller 1
I look around and I have limited options when it comes to a weapon. In fact, I have one option. The previous winter had been a bad one, so I kept a brush ice scraper combo in my floorboard. It was plastic, but decently heavy. The scraper part had a sharp edge. I casually pick it up and set it in my lap. No. Get out. He was very reluctant. My makeshift weapon and the fact that I was literally in the driver's seat caused him to swing his door open. The lights instantly came on and he turned to look at me squarely in the face. He was grinning, and his teeth looked as if he hadn't seen a dentist since before I was born.
- [32:24]
Storyteller 2
Please.
- [32:25]
Storyteller 1
This was the first time anything he said had any inflection at all. He said it as if he was trying to sound pitiful, but it came off as mocking. No, I said sternly, and he began to get out of the car. He was in the process of closing the door when he said One more thing. He leaned into the open door and then said, I really like your car. He slammed the door and I took off. It was a one lane road, so I couldn't immediately go to the direction that I needed. I went up a couple hundred feet and turned around in someone's driveway. When I approach where I left him out, I see that he's made no progress up the gravel road towards his brother's house. In fact, it doesn't look like he's moved at all. I slow down when I get close to him. I don't want to risk this man jumping in front of me or anything. He stares at me as I pass and I floor it. As I drive away, I can barely make out that he started to walk. Not up to the mountain, not further into the hollow, but toward the way I had driven toward the main road. The wrecked car was still there when I drove by and I went straight home and laid in my bed way too terrified to sleep. I don't know what he had planned, but I'm pretty sure that I wasn't driving him to his brother's house. Okay, so this happened when I was around nine years old. I'm 25 now and it's something I will never forget. It gives me goosebumps. To this day, I live in a terraced house, four houses combined, and my neighbors and I each have our own little patio. There is a small road 10 meters from my yard where people do their Sunday walks and so on. Only a small fence separates my small yard and patio from that road. I live in a pretty crowded area with several of these terraced houses spread around in my neighborhood, so seeing people walking on that road is pretty normal for me. Seeing random people standing on my patio though, is not. When I was nine, I usually got home from school about an hour before my mom got home from work. I live maybe 50 meters away from school, so maybe my mom figured I was mature enough to be home alone for around an hour before she got home. One day I got home from school. I did the usual thing, which was to make sure that I locked the front door and double checked that the back door leading to the patio was also locked. I was nine. Being alone was a little scary, even though it was in the middle of the day and only for one hour. I then rushed to my room upstairs to play as much PlayStation as possible before my mom came home and made me do homework. While playing, I heard this noise coming from outside my window. My room was located one floor over the patio with a view to the road that I told you about before. It was kind of like the sound of a cat. But my cat had been missing for over three months. Hope sparked and I thought, oh my God, did he finally come back? I ran downstairs to check if it was my cat, but the sight that met me gives me goosebumps. Just writing this. There was a guy standing on my patio. A tall guy with black hair covering half of his eyes, making him look like a male version of the ring women or something. I could hear him making high pitched sounds, almost like a cat meowing. A brown liquid was running down from his mouth and I could see him spitting out my dad's stomped cigarettes. He was actually eating from the ashtray. I was frozen observing this, eventually snapped out of it and screamed so loud that the man must have heard it. He didn't react. He kept on eating from the ashtray. I ran upstairs to my room, locked the door and called my mom who then called the cops. I've never been more terrified in my life. Laying in bed under my sheets, shivering with fear as I hear this creepy high pitched noises from the guy eating cigarettes stomps from the ashtray on my patio. I kind of just blacked out for a moment because the next thing I remember is the police arriving on the road by my yard. I hear them talking to the guy, saying stuff like what are you doing, sir?
- [36:39]
Storyteller 2
Get over here or we'll come down and arrest you.
- [36:42]
Storyteller 1
And so on. He didn't respond, but the high pitched sounds were more frequent and louder. I decided to look through the window, feeling safe now that the cops were there. I could see two police officers standing by my fence, One man and a woman. I did not see the creepy man, however, because he was standing directly one story under me in my field of view. The police jumped the fence and I remember hearing the creepy guy screaming louder than anything I've ever heard before. He charged the female police officer with full force and he freaking knocked her out cold. The male officer then immediately tased the guy, leaving him shaking on the ground screaming. Still, the policeman struggled to keep him on the ground while putting the handcuffs on him, but eventually made it. After a while he managed to wake up the female police officer who seemed to be badly hurt. He called for backup in an ambulance, then saw me standing in the window above him. The expression on my face must have been something else because he just looked at me and said, I sure as hell hope you didn't see all that. I started to cry. By this time the neighbors started to arrive wondering what the hell was going on? One of my neighbors, an elderly woman, made me come down and she took care of me until my mom came back home. The police took the creepy guy with them in the car and then left. Before they left, they promised to come back and talk to us about what had happened. This is where the story takes an unexpected turn. The male police officer came back later that night and he sat down with me and my mom to talk. He explained that the guy on my patio was actually diagnosed with severe autism. He escaped a facility where mentally challenged people lived, located around 5km from where I live. He explained that the guy had actually been living in my house five years ago, but he had been forced to move when his mom, his caretaker, died. The poor guy probably thought he would find his mom in my house. He missed the routines and he missed living there with his mom. The police had to move him from that house that time five years ago because he was extremely strong. From what I heard, he had extreme tensions in the body because of the autism, making his muscles grow stronger and stronger throughout the years. This was the reason he reacted the way he did when the police came this day. Still frightened, I told the police officer that he needed to make sure this would never happen again. He promised it wouldn't. After a few sleepless nights, my life got back to normal. The years went by and the guy didn't come back until one year ago. @ this time, my mom and dad moved out. I bought the house from them and I'm still living there today. I was enjoying my morning coffee on the patio when I saw this random guy stopping by the road by my fence. He just stands there looking at me. I look at him and I give him a nod. And then I hear the high pitched noises. Holy crap, it's him. His hair had turned gray. But the high pitched sounds made me realize. My heart started racing and I instantly remembered the reason why he was back. I realized that he must have managed to escape again because I kept my cool a bit longer than when I was nine. I started to realize how sorry I felt for the guy. Sixteen years later and he was back to look for his mom. I decided to carefully ask him if he wanted to come down to the patio. He instantly jumped the fence. I started to think he would knock me out like he did to that police officer. He didn't. He smiled. He looked at me and smiled. I offered him to sit down. He didn't respond. I offered him to come inside. He started laughing. We went inside. His face lit up. Pure joy. He was home. It reminded him of the life he had with his mom. It almost made me tear up. All of a sudden he sat down on my couch, turned on my TV and switched directly to the cartoons. I observed him for a while. He was just completely focused on the cartoons. I just wanted him to enjoy the moment so I didn't say anything to him. I realized that I had to call the facility to let them know though. The caretakers arrived 10 minutes later. After a lot of convincing, he got back up crying and they went back to the facility. I called the facility two days later. We made a deal. His name is Tom and I now consider Tom my friend. Every Sunday from the day he returned, Tom and his caretakers visit me to watch cartoons. They say it's the highlight of his week. It makes my heart really warm now. For several years my thoughts were lets not meet guy on my patio eating from the ashtray. But now my thoughts are let's meet every Sunday to watch cartoons. My friend Tom.