A (0:00)

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B (0:35)

This was something that happened to me back in the winter of 2017. I live in a small house in the Midwest. Actually, it's really just myself and my German shepherd, Major. I've had him since he was a puppy, so we're both pretty attached to each other. However, like many of you dog owners will know, regardless of the weather, our dogs need their exercise. So even while it snowed, we went on our walks around the block. I don't have much of a yard back or front, and it wasn't fenced in either, so walking was our go to. Our routine was pretty simple. We left around 7pm, walked through the neighborhood, I looped around the local park and headed back home. The entire route usually took about 45 minutes. I was used to this kind of weather, so it didn't really bother me to be out in it. So just like any other night, I pulled my boots and jacket on and Major got excited as I grabbed his leash. By the time we headed out, the sun had already set and the temperature was probably in the high teens. It had just heavily snowed during the day, so everything was covered in a layer of white. If you're at all familiar with the snow, then you know that dead winter silence that comes with a heavy snowfall late at night or early in the morning where everything is still and quiet. I love that it makes those walks a bit more therapeutic. The walk that night was fine at first, but soon after I rounded that first corner, something began to fill off. I brushed it off at first thinking it was probably just me with how silent it was and me listening to way too many spooky stories on YouTube. I mean, I was probably just getting myself worked up, but when Major would turn and look around with his tail sticking straight up, that didn't help my nerves. I just told myself we were fine. Maybe there was even an animal nearby that was throwing Major off. We were about halfway through our walk when I had started to hear the crunch of snow being pressed under shoes. The thing is, it was not for me. I would stop walking or change My pattern and the crunching continued. Every time Major stopped, I would turn around and look. The fact that he would stop and move his ears told me that something was up. Dogs always know. But I wasn't seeing anyone or anything when I looked. So what was it? I just picked up my pace and was thankful that Major matched it with me. My suspicions were confirmed as we were leaving the park. We took the same path home. So when I looked down at our prints, I noticed a second pair of shoes in the snow. Sometimes they were next to mine, and sometimes they overlapped. And from the size of them, it had to be a guy or someone with large feet. I was no longer comfortable with this situation. I patted Major, telling him, okay, boy, we gotta go home. He knows when I'm distressed or upset, so he picked up his pace alongside me. I was constantly looking behind me, hoping to catch someone, but I never did. Whoever this person was, they were really good at keeping their distance and staying out of view. That only made me feel worse, though. If I couldn't even catch them following me, how the hell would I be able to fight them off if they had ill intentions? I decided to do something kind of stupid. Instead of continuing down the street on the left side, I crossed the right side. Not in a sidewalk, just straight up jaywalking, thinking that if they weren't following me, they wouldn't do the same, Right? They wouldn't need to do the same thing. Finally, I crossed the street, and in the middle of the road, I looked back to see a guy walking down the street looking over at me. There was definitely a man following me, but was he truly following me? He kept looking over at me, but just continued on the opposite side of the street. This was finally enough to convince me to call someone. I know it may have been stupid, but I had no confirmation that I was being followed. I'm also one of those people that felt like someone always had it worse. And I would be wasting someone's time If I called 911 for something like this. But now, seeing this guy, I knew that I had to call. Better to be safe than sorry, right? I called and I tried to stay quiet as I explained to the operator what was happening. As I continued, the guy ended up disappearing. The only place he could have gone though is through someone's yard on the other side. Now, I was worried that he wasn't in my view, but also possibly made him someone else's problem. I finally made it to my house, but between looking for the guy and talking to the operator, I Wasn't paying attention to my front door. I looked over to see another guy looking down at my doorknob and messing with it. Was he trying to break in? Before I could stop myself, I let out a startled yelp, causing the figure to turn around. He had a mask over his face and a hood over his head. I felt frozen in place, not knowing what to do. Major had started growling and barking like crazy, and I heard the operator call out for me. When Major lunged at the guy, the jerk from his leash jolted me back and I started screaming. I felt like I was trying to scare off a bear. I was waving my arms, yelling, what the hell are you doing? Who even are you? I tried to keep my voice steady despite my racing heart and wanting to cry. I yelled at the poor operator that some guy was trying to break into my home, and the more wound up I got, the more aggressive Major started sounding. Finally, with his hands up, he jumped over the side of my porch, probably not wanting to walk past Major. At last I saw him. He ran through my neighbor's yard. I unlocked my door as fast as I could, demanded Major N and locked it all while trying to catch my breath and tell the operator what just happened. While I was talking, I could hear the sirens getting closer. The operator informed me that they were outside, so I hung up and then met the cops outside. I told them what happened from the walk, seeing the footprints and the guy walking behind me and the other guy at my door, too. They took notes and looked around the property, and then the two of them left to circle the area. They came back and said they didn't catch them, but they did check with my neighbor who allowed them in their backyard. They followed them across the yard, over the fence into the road where he must have been picked up because the footprint stopped right there. But there were tire tracks in the road. One of the cops said they would circle the block for a few more hours before they left, which did make me feel a little better about sleeping. That ended up being a really long, sleepless night. Every little sound had me on edge. And I'm sure Major was the same way. When I would look over at my door, he was already looking over there. The cops told me they would reach out if they caught someone or had questions, but I never got a call from them, so I guess they were never caught. I read about people casing houses, like trying to get their pattern down and then someone trying to break in while the owner is gone. It was reported on our local news on the Nextdoor app, so so it makes me think that's what happened to me. Part of me hopes it was a joint effort and the other guy was just following me because the idea of being targeted by two unrelated guys makes me feel even worse. I ended up getting a camera that sits on my living room window so I can at least capture them if they or someone else try something like that again. I was back to normal for the most part, but I still had troubles. Late at night I tried to vary my routes more, making them shorter or take a different path to not be so predictable, but it's much harder than I thought it was. My work schedule was pretty fixed and I couldn't change that much. Sometimes I would just stick to the backyard, but sometimes Major wanted to run so we went to the park. I just try to be better at watching my surroundings and you definitely won't catch me without an emergency plan. Hey there. I'm new to this kind of thing, but I wanted to share something that happened to me back in January. I work at a 24 hour gas station just off a main highway in the Midwest. It's one of those gas stations that we get a lot of travelers stopping at, but we also get really busy in the morning when all of the 9-5ers come in. My schedule is far from fixed. I may work the morning shift for a day or two, then I might work a later shift. At the time of this event I had been working the overnight shift from 10pm to 7am it was one of my favorite shifts just because it was such an easy night. I read or scrolled on my phone for hours and rang up the occasional customer that came in, but this actually made me change the days. It was around 2:30 in the morning. Like I said, it's never busy overnight. We might get the occasional long haul truckers or someone with the munchies, but no one that was ever difficult to deal with. In fact, we were even slower in the winter because being in the Midwest it can get pretty blustery. I guess people just decide to stay home and wait until they're ready to get fully dressed before going out. I. I was sitting behind the register doing something on my phone when I thought I saw someone run by the windows to the right. The front entrance as well as two or three panels on the side are glass so I can see the whole front area with the pumps as well as some of the parking on the sides. By the time I looked up though, no one was there so I assumed I was just seeing things. Maybe my hair obstructed my view or something, I don't know. I just looked back down and continued on. Not long after this I had run to the restroom, but since I was alone and couldn't leave the front unattended, I locked the door so I could relieve myself quickly. It was late or early, however you choose to look at it, so the odds of someone showing up at that exact moment was pretty slim Anyways. It was a good thing that I didn't bet on that though, because I would have lost While finishing up in the restroom, I started hearing a banging sound coming from the front. I made my way back to the front and I saw a woman banging on the glass pleading for me to let her in. She was in what looked like pajamas, some fuzzy shorts, a long sleeved shirt and barefoot. It had been snowing on and off so the ground wasn't covered, but it was still way too cold to be dressed like that. I rushed to the door and unlocked it and she immediately ran past me and started screaming incoherently. Her hair was a mess, her face was bright red. She had obviously been crying. I tried to get her to calm down and she said she needed to call the police. I asked her what happened and she said that she was taken from her home. I was dealing with a possible case of abduction. I had her follow me to the register where we had a cordless phone and I handed it to her. She immediately called 911 and I listened to her while pacing, not knowing what else to do. I remember her saying that some guys broke into her home and started dragging her out. Then she mentioned that she thinks they were her ex boyfriend's friends because they kept bringing him up. While she continued talking to them, I saw an SUV pull up into the side parking lot. I looked at the suv, then at the girl who gasped. She then started crying and shaking, saying that was them. I immediately went to the front doors and locked them. I was conflicted if I should do that or just let them in and act like nothing was wrong, but I feared the woman might not be able to stay quiet while they were in the store and understandably so. She started telling the operator they were there and I watched her drop to the floor behind the counter. I tried to ask her to stay quiet, but saying I could take care of it and she just nodded as she cried. I ran to the back and grabbed one of the mop sets and acted like I was mopping the floor by the front doors. I tried to act surprised when the two giant men pulled on the door, only to be met with resistance. I looked up and walked over to the door, trying to put on my best friendly look. I told them that we had to close the store due to a spill, but if they just needed gas they could pay at the pump. They both stared at me, annoyed. They were wearing dark baggy hoodies and jeans. One of them had their hands in the front pocket and I could tell something else was in the pocket, something shiny. The other guy asked how long it would take because he wanted something to eat. I told him that it was actually the toilet overflowing, so he had to wait for someone to come in and disinfect. I just hoped he bought it, but I don't think he was. He stared right into my eyes like a parent trying to force a child to tell the truth. It was unnerving. I broke eye contact and asked if they needed anything else, and the one with his hands in his pockets asked if we'd seen a girl come by. Was he testing me or does he really not know? I acted like I was thinking for a moment, when in reality I was just praying he'd believed this next part. I told him no, but then said someone did try to stop by too. Because I was locked. I suggested going down to the McDonald's that was further down the highway at the next exit. Now they were both giving me that interrogation stare. After that, I just told them to have a good night, apologized, and continued mopping. I kept straining to look at them in my peripheral vision, but they stood in place and watched me. I so badly wanted to look over at the counter to see if the girl had gotten up, but I didn't want to give her away. I said something to the guys again, in a way to tell the girl not to move. I think I just said something about the pums taking all card types and then started pushing the mop bucket to the back. I waited a few seconds before walking back out with a bottle of cleaner and the guys were still standing there, so I just smiled at them, the one that didn't appear to have anything on him, then swung at the door, punching it. My face kind of broke there now, looking at the guy like, what's your problem? He then shouted that he would come back to smash in my skull if I was lying. I didn't know what to do, but then I saw a cop pull in and stop across the first two parking spots and flash the red and blue lights. The two guys quickly put their heads down, flipped their hand up as if waving goodbye, then walked back to their suv. I was relieved. I waited until I saw them get into their vehicle and then I went to unlock the door. I shouted to the cop that those were the guys and he started walking towards them with his hand on his hip, I assume on his taser or gun, but as he walked towards them they sped off. The cop said something into his walkie and then quickly got back in his car and left. I kept the door locked and went back to the counter to see if the girl was still in tears, her face pale, clutching the phone to her chest. I told her it was going to be okay and that the police were following them now. She cried again and thanked me for helping her and then handed me the phone. She asked what the men looked like that pulled up and as I described them, she confirmed that it was the same men who took her. The worst part was she said that she thinks she knows who they were. She then explained how she left her now ex after finding out he was involved in some pretty dangerous stuff and dealings and he threatened her saying if she ever told anyone he would have her killed and she would never be found. She didn't tell me exactly what though, but I'm guessing it was pretty bad if you were willing to do that to someone you once loved or cared about. She said that she was at home when they broke in and practically dragged her to their car. They started threatening her, asking her if she told anyone, but she said no. They then stopped at some point like on an exit ramp or something, and she opened the door and took off running. But based on where we were at the nearest ramp, that meant that she had to have been running for quite some distance in nothing but pajamas. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen her or the two guys. It's really incredible what your limits are when your life may be in danger. I don't know why she trusted me. Another meal in a place alone, but I'm glad she did. It may have been the one thing to save her life. I stayed with her, trying to act normal in case they came back. I gave her a hot chocolate and paced the store until two more officers showed up. I told her she was safe to come out and only then did she finally get up. She talked to the police about what all happened and she told them the same thing she told me. They asked her about her ex, but that was when she clammed up and said she didn't want to talk about it. There she was, obviously still terrified to mention it. I couldn't blame her either. The cops told me I did the right thing and both her and the cops thanked me and then she went with them. And just like that, my store was quiet and empty again. I tried to look up some of the info and find out more, but I never found anything. I didn't know if they ever caught those guys or stopped her ex or even how she's doing or her name. I wish I did just so I can confirm she came out of it all okay. And honestly, that's really all I can hope for. Well, that and that her ex did or is doing some time for what he did. I still work at the gas station and all I know is that anytime I hear a thump on the glass it always makes the hair stand up, wondering if it'll happen again or they'll come back for me the story happened about two years ago while I was in university working on my degree in biology. I had signed up for a trip to gather samples for an experiment some students in the ecology department were going to run. It required the collection of samples from several sites, so they recruited biology, ecology, and forestry majors to help them complete the sampling in a shorter period. The area my group was to take samples from was a few hours away from my university. There are nine of us in my group, eight students and a supervising professor. We got to the campsite in the late evening and set up our tents. One of the other students had brought a big container of split pea soup from home and was also sharing it with the others on the trip. I don't really care for split pea soup, so I declined the offer. Everyone had some except me, one other student and the professor come the next morning. The five students who had eaten the soup weren't in the best of shape. They were in the grips of some gnarly food poisoning and were in no shape to hike for eight or nine hours to collect the samples that we needed. The professor who was supervising us originally had some rules, such as people travel in groups of at least two and we had to return to camp by nightfall. Now those rules were tossed out to make sure we kept our timetable and collected all of the required samples. We were really just told to do your best to complete the work assigned as long as you can do it safely. That morning I set out for a long day of hiking. After a mile or so, I ran into the stream that I was supposed to follow. I needed to travel about four miles upstream, stopping every quarter mile to collect samples of the water and soil. This meant that I had to Hustle and get back before dark. Halfway through the day, I realized that wasn't going to happen. About two miles into my hike, I stopped for lunch, sitting on a log overlooking the stream. The scene was really peaceful until I smelled cigarettes. It wasn't the smell of a cigarette being smoked, more so the musty smell of the heavy smoker's car where cigarette butts must have been left to ferment for weeks on end. I looked around but couldn't see anyone. I just assumed that the wind had blown the scent of some hunter or hiker over to me, but minutes later, the smell hadn't faded. The vegetation in the area wasn't that thick, but there were still lots of places for someone to dug behind a tree or bush. I was unnerved that someone was apparently staying close enough for me to smell them for this long. Without so much as a word, I quickly packed up the trash from my lunch and continued up the stream. The musty cigarette smell went away for the next few hours. It wasn't until I arrived at my last sample location, laid into the dust, that I smelled it again. The woods were getting really dim by this point. Looking back on it, it was a really stupid idea to stay out so late, as just hiking back to camp in the dark would be pretty dangerous even without a cigarette smoking stalker. Having just put the collection tubes in my bag, I shined my flashlight around the darkening woods looking for whoever was giving off the smell. I didn't see anything that caught my attention. I would actually be more correct to say that I saw too many things in the dim light that might have been a head sticking out from behind a bush or someone crouched low in the foliage. I didn't like the idea of being in the dark woods with a stranger who for the second time was lurking near me without revealing themselves. So I began to double time it back down the stream. I had a much better time on my way back even though it was dark because I didn't have to stop to take any samples. Even so, I didn't get back to camp until a bit after 10pm I was the last one to get back and everyone but the professor was already asleep. I didn't mention the cigarette smell to the professor because he seemed tired as it was and he headed to his bed in the RV soon after I got back. I headed to my tent soon after. At some point in the night I woke up needing to pee. I decided to head to the woods to do my business as I knew some of the other students were still feeling ill and needed the RV toilet for some more urgent matters than just having to take a leak. I walked about a hundred feet into the woods, found a tree, and did what I needed to. As I turned to go back to camp, something caught my eye. Somewhere off in the woods was a tiny red glow. I was confused as to what it was until it flared momentarily and I realized it was the cherry of a cigarette. I stood there for a while, watching the red ember glow fade, then move slightly closer to the ground as whoever was smoking it would take it out of their mouth. Not being able to see the person, I assumed they were watching the camp. I didn't know if they'd seen me make my way into the woods or not, as the fire had been doused and the moon was only half full so there wasn't very much light. I made my way slowly back to camp as quietly as I could and entered the RV to wake up the professor. I told him about the person smoking in the woods and about the smell of cigarettes earlier that day. However, when we got outside the rv, the ember from the cigarette was gone. My professor woke the other student who hadn't come down with the food poisoning, and we took turns watching over the camp. I didn't see or smell anything else when I was on guard duty and I went to sleep. When the professor woke up for his turn in the morning, the professor, the other student, and I went to where I guessed the smoker had been standing the night before, and sure enough, we found about 10 cigarette butts on the ground right next to a tree. The tree itself looked like someone had been twisting and stabbing a knife or other sharp object into it. As the bark and outer layers of wood had been damaged and chipped away. The professor decided that the group should head back that day, even though we hadn't collected all the samples we were assigned to. Just to be on the safe side, we packed up camp and drove down the thin dirt trail without incident. The second we got into the paved highway, though, a wide paneled van pulled out of a clearing just off the shoulder and began following us. The van stayed behind us all the way back, pulling off the highway when we did, taking the same surface streets that we did and only stopped following us when we turned into the road leading to our university campus. Everyone was freaked out by this, but it was around 9 o'clock at night on a weekend, so the security office on campus was closed. We decided to unload the RV and call it a night as the van hadn't followed us onto the campus. I offered to help the professor catalog and store the collection tubes from our trip. So it was another couple of hours before I left the Biological Sciences building and started heading toward the dorm building I lived in. I stepped out into the cool night air and began walking, my professor having left the building in the other direction to get to his car and drive home. It was a couple dozen feet outside of the building, which was now locked, when I was then hit with the musty smell of old cigarettes. I looked around and about 25 yards away in the darkness off a footpath, I saw the cherry of a cigarette smoldering away. I was pretty scared at this point, but hoped it was only a student or some faculty staying late and having a smoke. I couldn't completely convince myself of this, as the musty cigarette smell was the same as what I smelled in the woods the very previous night. I started down the footpath and soon passed whoever was smoking. A hundred feet or so later, I looked over my shoulder and saw the cigarette cherry bobbing in the darkness. The smoker was following me. This creeped me out a bit more, but I still held it together. That is, until I rounded a small stand of trees and saw a wide paneled van parked alone in the parking lot. I took off at a sprint toward my dorm building. I looked over my shoulder a few steps into my run, and I saw the cherry of the cigarette fall to the ground and a dark shape beginning to move after me. I didn't look back again, but I could hear someone running in the grass off of the footpath. I got to the entrance to my dorm building and frantically waved my keycard in front of the card reader that controlled the door lock. As soon as I hear the soft beep, I opened the door, jumped through the back doorway, and shut the door quickly. I stopped and peered through the glass door. I saw the dark shape just stop just short of the lit pathway. I just watched for a minute or two. Then I saw the spark of a lighter. The light was just barely bright enough to illuminate a shaggy beard and brim of a baseball cap before it disappeared and was replaced with the red glow of a cigarette. I turned and headed up the stairs to my dorm room. By the time I got to my window overlooking the same yard that I just ran through, there's no trace of a dark figure or a cigarette cherry. After that, I didn't see that wide paneled van again. That or the smell of that same musty cigarette. And I hope I never do. This story takes place In a small town in Indiana a few years before I was born, and my sister was only a couple of years old. Back then, we lived only a few blocks away from my grandparents, and my mother would drop off my sister every morning for what we called grandma school while my parents were at work for the day. This particular morning, she was running late and was in a little bit of a hurry due to her being short on time. She made the decision to leave her car running as she grabbed my sister from the backseat and ran her inside. To my grandmother, this was not an unusual occurrence where we lived. Because the winter nights got so cold, people would often start their cars in the morning to get them defrosted while they were getting ready for work. Otherwise, the car interior would feel like you're sitting in a giant freezer on wheels. So having done this so many times before, it didn't ring any alarm bells in her head. My mom was inside for not even five minutes, and when she returned, her car was gone, along with her purse wallet in my sister's car seat. My mom and grandma called the police and filed a report, and the car was found abandoned a few miles away the next day with her purse still in it, but her wallet and driver's license were gone. This is important for later. Now this is where it gets alarming. They weren't able to find the people who took her car for a little joyride until one day, my mom gets a letter in the mail with no return address on it. It was a handwritten letter apologizing and explaining all that happened the day her car was stolen. Apparently, it was a group of teenagers, two guys and two girls, and they enjoyed the adrenaline rush and got off on the high from it. After successfully taking the car, they all went to Taco Bell and paid for it with my mom's cash. While there, the letter explains that this is when their little outing turned more sinister. One of the guys got out my mom's ID and wrote down my mother's address on a napkin before throwing the ID in the trash on the way out. According to the letter, over the following week, they began watching her house, figuring out our daily schedules, and planning a home invasion so they could rob us blind. Fortunately, one of the girls began feeling extremely guilty and uncomfortable with this situation and turned them all into the police before any of that could happen. She then wrote my mother a letter and had her mother deliver it to our mailbox. In the letter, she explained that she felt my parents had the right to know what happened or almost happened. Absolutely chilling to find this out. Warning towards the end of this story, there's some animal abuse. If you don't want to hear any of that, go ahead and skip to the next one. A couple of summers ago, my girlfriend and I were camping in Chequamegon National Forest in northern Wisconsin. After our experience, we don't plan to return unless we go with a large group of people. My girlfriend and I are from Chicago, so Northern Wisconsin was our go to place for R and R. We've done a number of hiking trips in northern Wisconsin and in the Upper Peninsula, but never to this area. We're not backpacking experts, but we have been to a number of national parks and have been out hiking and exploring when we can find time away from work. We love getting away from people and relaxing in nature, but this trip made us appreciate the presence of other people around us in unfamiliar places. Our plan was to hike to a remote section of the North Country Trail. The North Country Trail is a scenic trail like the Appalachian Trail, but it gets much less use in some parts of northern Wisconsin. The trail is very remote and the only access is via logging roads. We planned to hike 15 miles along the trail to a backpack shelter, spend the night, and hike back to the car the following day. We spent the night at a friend's house in Wassall and we set out early the next day to the trailhead. As we entered the national forest boundary, we were captivated by the beauty of the thick green forests. I drove slowly along the gravel logging roads as we made our way to our parking spot. While we were driving to the trailhead, we passed a couple of people standing next to a parked truck on the side of the road. They appeared to be hillbillies as they had a rusted up pickup truck complete with Confederate bumper stickers. As we drove past, I waved and they stared back without returning the greeting. Friendly people, I thought to myself. After we passed them, I looked in the rearview mirror and I noticed they were still staring at us and before we rounded a bend, I glanced back into the mirror again and saw them watching us through the haze of road dust. My girlfriend and I joked about the up north people, but we didn't think anything of the encounter. Aside from those people, we didn't encounter anyone else on the remote logging roads within the national forest boundary. We found the trailhead about 15 minutes later after winding our way on the narrow logging road. There was no one else parked at the trailhead, a perfect chance to get some needed solitude, fresh air and relaxation. After parking and making sure the car was locked. We hoisted our packs and set off on the trail. The weather was relatively cool, which thankfully kept the mosquitoes and biting flies at bay. We took pictures along the way, and we marveled at the lushness of the forest and the topography of the glacial moraine. After a solid eight hours of hiking, we found our campsite. It consisted of a wooden backpack shelter and a fire rig. Even though this shelter provided ample space for us, we opted to set up our tent in a small clearing about 100ft behind the shelter. We built a fire at the shelter fire ring, and I boiled water for our dehydrated trail food. As we ate, we had watched the sky slowly turn dark. My girlfriend and I passed around an aogene filled with wine, and we marveled at just how many stars you could see away from the city. When the fire was reduced to a small pile of glowing embers, we decided to head back to the tent. We settled into our tent and looked through the pictures we took that day. But after lugging a heavy pack for 15 miles and drinking some wine, I was ready for some shut eye. When we camped and stayed in national parks, I usually wore earplugs. But that night there were no RVs or other campers to make any noise. So I closed my eyes and just let the noise of the forest lull me to sleep. My girlfriend was very uneasy that night, but she normally had some apprehension whenever we were sleeping away from home. I'm not sure when we drifted to sleep, but we awoke to a bone chilling noise. It was pitch dark outside, and over the insects in the forest, I heard a dull thud. It sounded like someone was hitting two logs together. My girlfriend and I were wide awake at this point and we laid silently in our tent hearing the noise again. Our old tent had mesh windows, but the backpacking tent we were using had no window. We could only guess that what was making the noise outside our tent. We initially thought an animal gutted our food and garbage bag, which we left in the shelter. But the noise was way too distinct and it did not sound like rustling through food wrappers or our camp equipment. Our hearts were pounding as we heard the persistent knock in the darkness. Unarmed and terrified, we didn't know what to do. I would normally have carried a can of bear spray, but I decided to leave it at home to save on weight against the wishes of my girlfriend. The knocking continued, but we remained still as to not give away our location. For all we knew, whatever was making the noise had already spotted our tent. After what seemed like an eternity. The knocking sound ceased. We laid in complete silence with only the dull buzz of the insects in the background. Then we heard it. Leaves rustling, a branch breaking. Voices. We heard low talking in the distance. We couldn't make out what was being said, but it sounded like a couple of people talking in the distance. The voices continued for a bit, but to our relief, the voices didn't seem to be getting any louder. Whoever was out there didn't spot the tent and decided to leave us alone. We sat in our tent for the rest of the night, adrenaline surging through our veins. At the first light, we slowly got out of the tent. I looked around in all directions to see if anyone was out there, but I only saw the forest and the backpack shelter. We quickly rolled up our sleeping bags and camp pads and put our tent away. When we got to the shelter, my girlfriend screamed in horror. On the entrance of the shelter, the wood was freshly cut. The word kill was cut into the shelter wall, and there were a number of acts and knife cuts where someone was chopping at the wall. I looked at the ground and saw scattering of fresh wood splinters. After grabbing our food supply and garbage bag, we got the hell out of there. We were nearly jogging with our gear as we made our way back to the car. I just kept glancing back over my shoulder and gazing out through the woods to see if anyone was following us. We traversed the glacial eskers that we saw the day before and we knew we were getting close to our car. We were quietly rejoicing as we neared the trailhead. We made it back to the trailhead in near record time, but something was wrong. The windshield wiper on my car was sticking straight up and there was something stuck to the wiper. As we inched closer to the car, I saw that there was blood smeared on the windshield and a squirrel carcass was impaled on the wiper blade. Hair and blood was still stuck to the wiper and on the hood of the car. I didn't even bother cleaning off the car. We threw our gear in the trunk and I sped off without even removing the animal on the wiper blade. As I sped down the gravel logging road, I just kept glancing in the rearview mirror, but I couldn't see anything through the cloud of road dust behind the car. When we got into a gas station by the nearest town, I removed the carcass with a wad of newspaper and I tried to remove as much dried blood as I could. I filled up on gas and we didn't stop until we made it to Milwaukee. This was the last trip that I ever took to the woods of northern Wisconsin. The situation is still developing and I'm afraid for my mother's safety. We've reported it to the police and they have patrolled the area a few times, but don't seem to be taking it very seriously. If you have any suggestions or theories, I would greatly appreciate it. My mom and I live alone in the rural Midwest. The closest neighbors are about a mile away. Thursday morning, my mom walked to her car to find small pieces of paper blowing around in the grass around her car and a bag sitting on top. The notes are very disturbing and sexually graphic. Some of them imply that he's watching her and that he can see her at that very moment. Inside the bag there were two glass dildos. She's not a very social person. She doesn't have any enemies or even friends that would do this. She reported it to the police right away. One of our neighbors drove by her house that same morning and noticed a man in his 20s with rotting teeth and brown hair walking down our gravel road away from our house. They asked him his business and he claimed to be waiting for a ride, indicating his car had broken down or something. That night a man fitting that description knocked on our door. One that we never use, mind you. She was alone, so she turned the lights off and called the police. They didn't arrive for 45 minutes. She said that he was wearing a large black cowboy hat and carrying two large bags. He looked similar to our neighbor's description, but this time he was close enough for her to notice freckles. A little while ago we noticed he had been in the garage and stolen two full gas cans. There are a lot of val buildings, land, trees and hills from to hide. My house has a lot of windows. We have begun keeping the doors locked and windows and curtains shut. I'm paranoid and terrified. My mom is mostly angry, but she shouldn't feel unsafe in her own home. What do we do? Why would a person do this? I really appreciate any feedback. I finally got the pictures. It was a long process and they're kind of blurry, but here they are. They should be on screen now. Update 2 Nothing seems to be out of place this morning, but I'll be walking around the property and thoroughly checking before I leave. I've been writing all of this on my phone so when I get my computer back I'll try to respond to more of you. I asked my brother to come home today and he said he would, but apparently she talked him out of it now? I don't know. I'm very upset that no one seems to be taking this seriously. The garage has been padlocked, but there's still a barn corn crib in a basement that he could easily access. I tried again to get her to leave and she flat out refused. She's convinced that because he didn't actually try to break into the house that night he knocked on the door, that he's not really a threat or he'll give up. She doesn't want to be freaked out and I don't blame her. But it's way too late for that. She's getting mad at me for asking questions and I know she would be pissed about this post if she found out this guy has been seen around town and no one knows him, which is also a red flag in itself. His license plate is from the next county over, but no one got the number. Of course I want to be proactive about this, but there's only so much I can do right now. Update 3 and this is my final update by the way. Nothing has happened since those first few days to my knowledge. We're still here and things seem to have settled down a bit. We got a lock for the garage, although she doesn't keep it locked and the gun is out. At this point, I really think this was mistaken identity, or at least an easily discouraged crazy person. Unfortunately though, the guy has not been caught and I'm home alone a lot now. I never used to be afraid. I really hate that he took that from me. I'll be sure to update you guys again if anything changes. Thanks again. During my early 20s, I worked as a meter reader in Iowa City, Iowa. A meter reader is the person who records just how much electricity, gas, or water that you've used each month. If your meters are on the inside and you want an accurate bill, a meter reader must enter your home whether you're there to let them in or not. Just to clarify, we've only entered homes if consent was given when the customer first signed up for the service. Customers also provided us with keys if necessary. Entering a home when the owner isn't present is something that I never got used to. No matter how loudly I knocked, I never shook the uneasy feeling that I wasn't welcome. The inside of a home is the ultimate private space. A home's exterior is just the image of ourselves that we project to the rest of the world. But the further you venture inside, the closer you come to truly seeing what kind of person lives there. And if you Want the raw, unfiltered truth? Head for the basement. I hate basements. I've seen walls that look like giant static filled TV screens. That is, until I realized it was roaches scurrying across a white background. Cobwebs so thick and dusty that it looked like the cotton candy machine exploded at the Spider County Fair. I've seen rats, snakes, feces, weapons, neglected children, abused pets, homeless squatters, massive hordes, bizarre sexual items, a makeshift meth lab, and even a coffin. There are rational explanations for all of these things, though. Well, maybe not the coffin, but there was one basement where what I found was truly beyond the grasp of logic. And that's what made it so terrifying. It was an old apartment house. From the outside, it looked like every other house on the block. I entered the back door and found myself at the top of a staircase. I ran my hand along the wall until it grazed a light switch. I flipped the switch, but no lights turned on. I wasn't carrying a flashlight. A typical route involved five or six hours of walking, so I carried as little as possible. Oftentimes I used the light from my handheld screen, but it only illuminated whatever was about a foot in front of it. So, armed with the world's worst lantern, I made my way down into the darkness. Once at the bottom, I blindly shuffled across the room one baby step at a time. With arms outstretched and head down, I eventually reached the far side of the basement. I shined the dim light from my handheld along the wall and discovered two doors. Each door led into its own small room. I chose the door on the right and found the meters in the far corner. As I entered the reeds, I began hearing noises coming from the other room. Something was moving and there was whimpering that grew louder the longer I listened. I eventually realized it was a dog. It sounded weak and distressed. I tried to open the door, but it was locked. At this point, the dog was scratching on the other side of the door. I felt helpless. I reported it when I got back to the office, but I couldn't shake the thought of that dog. It stuck with me over the next month until it was time to return. So there I was one month later, back within that same basement. At least this time I knew where the meters were located. I shuffled back to the little room on the right while keeping my ears open for any sounds coming from the other room. This time I heard nothing. I read the meters and started making my way back. But I couldn't shake the memory of that dog. Was it still trapped inside that room. My curiosity got the best of me. I stood outside the door for a few moments, listening. Still nothing. That's when I made a huge mistake. I tried to open the door. I had no more than jiggled the doorknob when I first heard it. Screams. Blood curdling screams unlike anything that I've ever heard. Sounds that I didn't think a human was capable of producing. Short and piercing high pitched shrieks, followed abruptly by a low, drawn out, guttural moan that ultimately morphed into something that I can only describe as crying, but much louder. It was all over the place like some sort of psychotic freeform jazz. I stumbled backwards, nearly losing my balance. I shouted something like. Hello? Who's in there? There was no response. Just screams. Are you okay? Do you need help? Still no response. Just screams. There was no doubt that I yelled loud enough for him to hear me. He didn't want my help. He wanted me gone. I fumbled my way through the darkened room toward the exit. When I reached the top of the stairs, I just stood there listening. I was trying to wrap my mind around what I was hearing. I waited for the screaming to stop, but it never did. When I finally left, it was still as loud and demented as it was when it began. I felt relieved. But that quickly vanished when I realized that I had to do it all over again. The very next month, I reported what I had heard, but nothing came of it. As my return drew nearer, a sense of dread grew inside of me. What kind of lunatic sits alone in total darkness and silence? My mind created endless explanations for what kind of hell lay beyond that door. By the time I returned, I had built him up in my mind so much that anyone other than the devil himself would have been a let down. But there was no sign of him the next month, or even the next several months. I'd nearly given up on solving the mystery when a stroke of luck pulled me back in. One night I went to a concert with my friend Laura. After the show, I gave her a ride home. She had moved somewhere recently, so she had to give me directions. I didn't pay much attention to where she was leading me until she pointed to a house a ways up the street. I couldn't believe it. She had actually moved into the same house with the mysterious room in the basement. This sounds weird, but have you noticed anything odd about the basement? At this, I began to ask, but before I could finish my sentence, she blurted out, a crazy guy lives down there. Finally, I had confirmation. She went on to tell me that Even though her apartment was in the attic, she often heard him yelling late at night. But that wasn't all. She had actually met him. One day while walking to her car, she saw him standing in the lot. He stood perfectly still with no expression on his face. He was directly in her path, so she cautiously made her way around him. She noticed that he was staring at her, so she offered a friendly hi. As she passed. He had no reaction except for one unsettling exception. He stuck out his tongue, then quickly sucked it back into his mouth and then resumed acting like a statue. Thoroughly creeped out, she got in her car and drove away. Two or three months later, I had finally met him myself. I entered the back door like I had so many months before. This time something was different. There was a light on in the basement. I peered down the staircase. At the bottom, a ragged looking dog was staring back at me. It was the same dog that I'd heard during my first visit. Then I noticed something else. Behind the dog, I could see a pair of bare feet. The ceiling blocked my view of the rest of whoever was standing there, but it didn't matter. I knew it was him. I should have left right then, but I didn't. I know this probably doesn't make sense, but at this point my desire to finally get some answers outweighed my fear. I shakily called out meter reader and started to make my descent. As I made my way down, more of him was revealed. He looked to be middle aged. His head was shaved and his eyes were wild. He was wearing pants but no shirt. What I remember most was how lean and sinewy his body looked. It had the look of a body that was never at rest. I explained who I was and what I was doing there. To my surprise, not only did he talk to me, but he had actually sounded somewhat normal. The volume and pitch of his voice was odd, but he said the same sorts of things that people typically said to meter readers. I even started to doubt whether or not he was the same man that I'd heard screaming. But his behavior slowly removed all doubt. As I read the meters, he rapidly paced back and forth. He was constantly wringing his hands together and spastically cocking his head from side to side. The longer he talked, the more agitated he became. He began grimacing and little verbal tics started popping up in his speech. Every so often, he'd blurt out a loud aww in the middle of a sentence. He was trying to suppress these sounds, but he was losing the battle. I started to make my way to the exit. He followed. His verbal outbursts grew louder and more frequent. I was petrified. When I reached the stairs, I drew our conversation to an end and then said goodbye. As I turned to head up the stairs, he could no longer hold it in screams. The very same unforgettable screams that I'd heard coming from the locked room. I ran up the stairs as fast as my legs would carry me, flung the door open, and rushed back into the daylight. A month or two later, I had a couple of friends, including Laura, over to my place. I was excited to tell her about my encounter, but as I was relaying what happened, I could tell that something else was on her mind. When I finished telling my story, she told me about something that she'd seen a couple of weeks earlier. One day she had noticed lights flashing outside her window. She looked outside just in time to see police officers placing the man from the basement in the backseat of a squad car. She later found out from another tenant that he had attacked someone with a knife. That was the last we ever saw of him. I don't know what became of the man in the basement. I'd like to think that he got the help that he desperately needed, but maybe that's just because I'd rather not think about the alternative.