A (12:41)

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B (13:10)

All?

A (13:10)

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B (13:43)

This is not your typical horror story with ghosts, creeps, or murderers, but it is one of the scariest events I've ever experienced and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. The date was December 19, 2013. I was five years old at the time. Our family had a tradition on Christmas where we would eat peppermint stick ice cream with waffles for breakfast. I know random but a big part of the story. My mom and I had just dropped my older brother off at school and we were going to our favorite ice cream place to get ice cream. I live in Wisconsin and a big snowstorm was coming the very next day, so we knew if we didn't get our ice cream that day, we wouldn't get it at all. I remember very clearly we were listening to Christmas music as we came to a bridge over a highway and then I heard my mom scream. I looked to the left and the window on the car shattered into pieces. I felt a burning sensation on my forehead and the car started sliding in the ditch next to us. Now this isn't your normal ditch. It was probably around a 50 foot drop and incredibly steep. It felt like hours that we were sliding down, but in reality it was probably only 30 seconds. The moment we hit the bottom, I had started crying. I was in so much pain and I was only five, so I didn't exactly understand what was putting me in such agony. My mom looked back at me and saw that I had blood all over my face and clothes. She was already on the phone with 911 frantically telling the dispatcher what happened. I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a deep cut in my forehead spewing with blood. I started screaming even louder as I was terrified and didn't know what was going to happen to me. When the ambulance arrived, they loaded me onto a stretcher and rolled me back up the hill. As for my mom, she had to walk up the hill with broken ribs. I remember in the ambulance looking up at the ceiling and a single tear rolling down my bloody face. The ride was bumpy and uncomfortable and I just wanted to go home. When we got to the hospital, they put us into a room and we waited for my dad to arrive. I had to get nearly 30 stitches in the cut on my forehead and my dad held me the whole time. I don't remember feeling the physical pain, but I do remember screaming so loud that my throat felt raspy. Now, this is the part that I don't recall, but my mom has told it to me countless times. After the stitches were done, we were about to go home when very suddenly, I had started throwing up. My head was hit pretty significantly from the crash and the doctors were worried that I might have a concussion. I got an MRI and was forced to stay at the hospital for three more long, boring hours. Finally, I got to go home and spend the night in my own comfortable bed. I thought I'd share some background info with you to make the story a bit more sensible. Our car that we crashed in was a big red blazer with a strong metal bar right in between the driver's seat and the seat behind it. The truck that hit us smacked dead right in the middle of that pole, saving our lives. If we had crashed even a millisecond later or earlier, either my mom or I would have most likely been killed. I know that most of you aren't going to believe this, but by sheer luck, when our car was sliding down the ditch, it didn't roll over. Another miracle that seems impossible, but did somehow happen. You're probably confused on how only my forehead got sliced up during the crash, but it was wintertime and I was wearing a lot of thick, warm clothing and had a booster seat protecting my body. The only thing I wasn't wearing was a hat, leaving my head exposed. The last bit I'm going to tell you, is the sweetest and most humane thing anyone's ever done for me. On Christmas Eve, the sheriff, who was the first on the scene of the accident, showed up at our doorstep with peppermint stick ice cream and a heart blanket and a hello Kitty sweater for me. I still have both of them to this day and I never intend on getting rid of them. My mom believes there were angels with us that day watching over us. I pray that none of you will ever have to experience this. I hope everyone enjoyed listening to my story and stay safe out there. I am a farm kid from the Southern United States. My mom is a German lady and my dad is a mixed Native American man. Due to my parents cultural backgrounds and growing up rural, I'm familiar with many things relating to the paranormal and that whole category after graduating high school and having a short, unsuccessful venture into the Navy, I decided to try law enforcement. I got a job offer with the local animal control agency where I started my candidacy training mostly cleaning up dog crap and explaining to visitors. Yes, we have those. Apparently that seeing an Abhasa minding its own business at 1am isn't a reason to call law enforcement. On Christmas Eve I got a call about my own two pigs. They somehow escaped their pigpen rent a distance north and of all things, managed to destroy the village Karen's front lawn. As you can imagine, she made a colossal crabfest about it. After a long and unsuccessful afternoon of attempted hog wrangling, I was eventually ordered to just shoot the pigs, which I did, begrudgingly due to it being the holiday season. Of course, the local butcher wasn't open, meaning I couldn't deliver the meat for processing. My dad, who's a mortician, suggested we store the pigs in one of the empty body coolers at the funeral home until we can get the meat processed. With no other way to preserve them, I had to agree. We wrap the pigs in Visqueen bags, load them into my van and drive an hour south to a neighboring town where the funeral home is located. The sun goes down before we get there, so it's pretty dark when we arrive, save for the occasional dim yellow street light. We backed the van into the courtyard loading area where bodies are delivered from the hospital. The pigs were very heavy, weighing at least £200 each. Since it's a considerable distance to the nearest unoccupied cooler, we decided to put the pigs on an old rolling stretcher to save time and energy. Even on the stretcher, the two pigs totaled more than 400 pounds, making them hard to move. Halfway through, one of the stretcher wheels bumps on something and we decided to stop to take a breather. We happened to come to a stop beside the door to one of the coolers, which was locked, indicating that it was currently in use no sooner than we had stopped, there came a sudden, deliberate and very frantic banging on the door inside the cooler. It sounded like someone was trapped and trying to get out. To confirm, I gave the door three solid knocks. Whoever was in there did the same, and they knocked three times back, thinking some idiot managed to get stuck inside. We located the keys and unlocked the door. When the door popped open, we were very confused to find it empty, save for a couple of long, dead, frozen bodies. Puzzled, we closed and relocked the door and then went back to work. We got the pigs into the empty cooler, did a little bit of cleaning, and got ready to leave for the night. On the way back to the van, we had passed that same cooler unit. I stopped, placed my hand against the metal door, and announced loud enough so that anyone inside could hear that I was sorry, but I couldn't help them. After a long moment, I took my hand away and we walked the rest of the way back to the van. We got in, started the engine, and I took a deep breath. I immediately started trying to rationalize what just happened. If I came to work and started telling ghost stories, I knew I'd get an unpleasant call from my supervisor. I needed to find a reasonable explanation. Just then, my window rolled down by itself. Nobody touched the button. It rolled down all the way on its own, letting the cold winter air in. Neither me nor my dad knew what caused it, but decided to not stick around to see what would happen next. Admittedly, I drove a bit over the speed limit. I just wanted to get away from whatever just happened. About halfway home, a thought had crossed my mind. What if whatever did all of this is in the car with us? I thought about what my dad's tribal elders used to say. They warned to not let spirits follow you. We stopped in a convenience store parking lot and I grabbed an incense stick from the glovebox. I lit it and waved it around, making sure the smoke drifted around the cabin. I announced aloud that anything that was trying to follow us was not welcome. After a long minute, when there was enough smoke to make both of us cough, we opened all of the windows to let the smoke out of the vehicle. After this, we drove home, and that was pretty much the end of it. Very little has happened in the time since that night, and I pray that it stays that way. Thanks for listening to my rambling story. I hope it was interesting enough and worth all of your time. After my family returned home following the Christmas holiday in 2013, I remained behind. We had celebrated at a close friend's house where I'd been staying for over a year after leaving an abusive relationship back East. This friend had been part of my life since 2009, someone who had shared holidays with us and whom I trusted deeply. On New Year's Eve, something unusual happened. I came across a lost dog, a Great Dane puppy, wandering the street, clearly frightened by the fireworks. I brought him home, kept him safe in the garage, fed him chicken and rice, and made him a bed out of blankets and stuffed animals. I checked lost dog listings constantly, and on January 2nd, I was finally able to contact the owner, who was incredibly grateful. By then, I was preparing to start a new job the following Monday. That Friday night, my friend and I planned around our opposite work schedules. While he worked overnight, I stayed up cleaning, and when he returned around 6am we intended to rest briefly and spend the day together, finishing a Scrabble game, shopping, and maybe even seeing a movie. Around 5am I decided to walk down to a nearby bar to watch karaoke. It was something I had done only a few times since moving there the year before. I didn't go to sing, only to observe and briefly chat with the bartender. Unbeknownst to me, a man in the bar had been watching me closely the entire time. At some point, after stepping away briefly, my drink was tampered with. What followed is difficult to recount. I lost awareness and later found myself in a situation where I was harmed repeatedly and violently. I was disoriented, terrified, and unable to fully comprehend what was happening. After several hours, a small child knocked on the door of the room where I was. The man hastily threw clothes at me and told me to get dressed. I soon realized that there was another adult present in the home as well, someone who had been there during the earlier hours. When both men moved to the back of the residence, I saw an opportunity to escape. I ran out through a sliding glass door and fled toward the nearest place I could find help. While running, I turned back briefly and saw the child following me. I reached a nearby residence where a man used his phone to call my friend. When my friend arrived, I ran to his truck and told him that we needed to go to the police immediately. As we drove away, I had noticed the child had followed us from the trailer, though he soon ran back to his father, who was nearby. We drove toward several police cars that were already in the area. Despite my obvious confusion, slurred speech, and physical distress symptoms later acknowledged by officers on the scene, I was arrested and accused of kidnapping. I was denied medical care despite having severe asthma and repeatedly requested assistance the man who harmed me claimed I had taken his child and his statement was accepted without question. During booking and afterward, I was again denied proper medical evaluation. I repeatedly asked to be seen by a sexual assault nurse and to be tested, but official reports later falsely stated that I had refused care. Years later, subpoenas would show that no such refusals were documented by the hospital, nor were any requests on my behalf recorded. I spent five years incarcerated until my release in January 2019. Despite a lack of physical evidence supporting the charge, no listed victim, no restitution, and unprocessed DNA, my conviction has never been overturned. I lost nearly a decade of my life fighting a charge for a crime I did not commit. Later, I learned that the other man present in the trailer had moved to Missouri shortly after the assault. Less than a year later, he committed a horrific crime against his own elderly father. The man who harmed me traveled to Missouri to assist him and later brought him back to live with him. These facts were uncovered during my friend's relentless efforts to help prove my innocence. While incarcerated, I encountered individuals who knew of the man who assaulted me. They described him as someone dangerous, involved in criminal activity, and widely avoided. It became pretty clear to me that he was protected and that the system failed me at every level. I'm still fighting. I have evidence that has never been properly examined and DNA that has never been processed. The truth remains buried despite my continued efforts to bring it to light. If there is any lesson in this story, it it's never underestimate how quickly a single moment can alter the course of your life. Please be cautious, especially when alone late at night. The consequences can be permanent. It. Monster Energy. Everybody knows White Monster, Zero Ultra. That's the OG it kicked off this whole Zero sugar energy drink thing. But Ultra is a whole lineup now. You've got Strawberry Dreams, Blue Hawaiian Sunrise, and Vice Guava. And they all bring the Monster Energy punch. So if you've been living in the white can branch out. Ultra's got a flavor for every vibe. And every single one is Zero Sugar. Tap the banner to learn more.