1 Hour of CREEPY TRUE Winter Night Horror Stories

I'm originally from a state where it's predominantly hot year-round, and I'm not a big fan of warm weather. So when the winter comes, I like to have my windows open and spend as much time outside. The temperature averages around the 50s, but that's besides the point. It was one of those chilly winter nights; I was about 10 years old, and the only people home were my two nannies and me. They were at the other side of the house watching TV while I was in my room. It was getting late and was likely around 10

p.m., so I decided to take a shower and hop into bed. Everything's fine; I hopped out of the shower and got ready for bed. At this point, I should quickly go over the layout of my room. It's rectangularly shaped and has two windows facing the front door entrance to my house. From my windows, you can see a walkway to the front door, and the path is sort of gated in brick. Basically, you'd have to enter the driveway, turn left, and walk down a path that leads to my front door. My bed faces one of those

windows, and I can see all the way down the path. Both windows have a mesh screen. This is where things get scary. Like I mentioned earlier, I had the window facing my bed open to let the cold air in. My room is well-lit, so it's hard to see anything through the window. However, as soon as I turned off the light, I saw the figure of a man with his face pressed upon the screen. At that moment, I felt his piercing gaze. He was motionless and smiling. He had facial hair that looked as if his whole

face was covered in fur, and the hair on his head was the same length. I briefly thought I was imagining this and was seeing something that wasn't there because of all the foliage outside my window. I took a couple of quick steps towards the window to get a good look before I confirmed what I saw was real. This all happened in a matter of 10 seconds. I bolted out of the room and towards the room my nannies were in. The hallways in my house are narrow and long, and large windows face the entrance. I didn't

dare look out. I reached the room my nannies were in and told them what happened. They just laughed. To be quite honest, I was the boy who cried wolf; I was always quite a prankster and had a bit of an imaginative brain, so it was hard to take me seriously when I was younger. I had to practically beg them to check with me. From what I can remember, they took it seriously. We got back to my room, and no one was there. My window screen was left untouched, and the man was gone. I don't think

they were totally convinced, if I'm being honest, and neither were my parents. I couldn't sleep in my room for days because of the incident, and nothing was done about it. My house didn't even have an alarm system, so there was nothing stopping this person from coming back. I'm still very disappointed in how things were handled, and I had no power over anything. I have no idea how long that guy was out there for and if he was watching me undress and then dress myself after I showered. I remember how messed up-looking his smile was; it

was menacing. I'm glad that I was not harmed by this man and that was his only visit—at least I hope. I stopped opening my windows at night, and I missed the cool winter air. It was winter 2012, and I was 18 or 19 at the time. I was working in a petrol station in an average-sized town in England. It was an okay job and good money for somebody who was at college at the time, but it was just a shame that it was a weekend job because while my friends were getting drunk and having fun,

I was in a petrol station serving taxi drivers and the occasional drunk. Anyway, back to the story: It started off just like any other night—serving people, cleaning up, doing stock, and the average night shift work. Since it was winter, the night was really dark, and you could only see faint outlines of people walking back and forth, even with streetlights. The place where I worked was situated across the road from a pub and had an alley running beside it that led right into a housing estate. Around 3:00 to 4:00 a.m., as I finished cleaning a set

of shelves, I noticed a figure standing in the alley, just out of the light but just enough to hide his face. You could also make out his clothing. I initially brushed it off as somebody waiting for a taxi, as it seemed harmless enough. I sat down in my chair behind the counter and looked at my phone, playing some games for a bit. When I looked up, it was 5:00 a.m., and he was still there, waiting, watching me. To make my situation worse, after 5:00, there was hardly any traffic or passersby. I had that guttural feeling

that he had some harmful intent. I was safe, however, as I was locked in till morning. I stared back into a trance, trying to keep an eye on whatever he would do next. After a while, I really needed to use the bathroom, so when I went and came back, thinking and hoping that he might have walked off, he didn't, and he was still there. I then decided not to do the last of my duties for the night until my coworker came in to start their shift. My job was to take out the garbage in boxes.

I got to about 6:00 a.m., and the figure faded back into the alley. I didn't see him for the rest of my shift. When my coworker arrived, it was still dark. I usually walked the 10 minutes back home, but I got a taxi home after that shift since I felt that the guy could be anywhere, still watching me. I told my coworkers and family members about my experience, and they said they personally hadn't experienced anything like it; they wouldn't like to, either. I was very nervous when doing shifts from then on, feeling like as soon

as I let my guard down, he would strike. But thankfully, nothing else happened after that. I quit the following summer to go to university. Safe to say, I don't want to meet the person in the shadows from that night. To set this up, I live in a dorm on campus at my college. I was back a week early during winter break for Greek recruitment, basically interviewing with and visiting different sororities all week. The only people on campus were other girls and a few front desk staff. They didn't have the cleaning company, dining hall staff, or

even our RAs around at all. As a result, my roommate also wasn't back because she was not rushing, and my entire floor—since it is mostly made up of exchange students from China—was empty. I was the only one on the floor and one of the few in the entire tower. There are four dorm towers, 12 floors each. To get up to the dorm this week, you had to check in with the front desk to get your key reactivated, and every time you wanted to go up, they would swipe to give you permission to go past the

front desk. You then had to swipe to unlock the doors to the hallways containing the elevators, and again to be able to press a button, and once more to actually get into the dorm. If you didn't have a key coded to a specific tower or room, you couldn't get into it. Now, I was in my room the second night of the week, settled back in and sitting on my futon, my back against one of the armrests and facing the door. The rooms are long rectangles, with the window at one end and the door at the

other. My bed was lofted above me, and I had a blanket hanging down from there behind my head, so you essentially couldn't see me from the doorway. I was laying there with my headphones in, jumping through YouTube videos when I heard the door open. Not only is there a distinct sound of the key card going in and out of the door like a hotel door, I also still have Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling. I heard the door open, and I knew it opened all the way because it hit an ornament, and it fell off

its hook. I froze in fear. I knew my roommate wasn't back, and neither was my RA; those were the only two people who would have access to my room. After my initial fear, my first thought was that whoever it was would realize their mistake and quickly back out, kind of like opening an occupied bathroom stall. But as I froze, barely breathing, I heard them take two steps forward and even bump my suitcase, which was taking up most of my doorway. I adjusted slightly, moving to reach my phone, and my futon squeaked loudly. Instantly, I heard

the footsteps retreat, the door close, and the person move away from the door. I was stuck where I was for maybe an hour until I could finally muster up the courage to turn around. There, on the floor, was the broken ornament and my suitcase sitting slightly ajar. I texted my roommate and RA, practically begging them to tell me that they were back, but my roommate was still in London, and my RA confirmed my fear. Not only was she not back, but she also said she had no idea who would be able to get into my

room. Even if the cleaning people or the maintenance guys were back, they don't have permission to go into dorms, nor any way to get in. She assured me that she would let the front desk know and also suggested it was just a spring admission student who probably got coded the wrong key. I accepted that as an answer: they were confused, heard me move, and realized they got the wrong room. It wouldn't happen again if that's what it was, but I struggled to sleep that night. I even felt terrified to turn around and look at the

door when I woke up the next morning. But then night returned, and I, unable to sleep and very scared, was once again up late browsing Reddit. This time, I had my phone close to me and had taped a piece of string over the door since I didn't have the ornament alarm hanging anymore, and I needed to validate I wasn't going crazy. Like clockwork, once again at 3:00 a.m., I heard footsteps outside my door and the distinct use of the key card in the door opening. I stayed frozen and realized I could see their silhouette in

the microwave store, which sat against the window and faced the door. They stayed in the doorway and nearly filled up the whole thing, the light from the hallway streaming around them into my dark room. Once again, I was frozen, convinced they meant malice and that last night wasn't a mistake. But if they wanted me asleep, I wasn't going to let them have that. I hit play on a video I had queued up, and as soon as the ad started... The figure left, and the door closed behind them as the footsteps retreated. When I finally looked,

the string was broken. I told my RA and roommate about this, as well as the front desk. The next morning, all of them confirmed not only that no one else had a registered key from my floor in my tower, but even those that did weren't back yet, whether they were other students or employees. I didn't sleep the rest of the week and kept my suitcase and chair in front of the door, but it never happened again. Even now, months later, that little 9x2 room is terrifying when I am alone at night since whoever comes through

that door is only a few steps away from my bed, blocking the only way out. This incident happened to me over the Christmas holidays this past year. For reference, I'm a 24-year-old female. My cousin and I decided to go up a few hours north for a nice winter cabin weekend. It went great—nothing creepy at all. On our final day, we packed up at 6:00 a.m. and hopped in the car to get an early start on the 5-hour drive we had ahead of us. It was a very foggy morning—not actively snowing, but previous snowfalls had piled

up quite a bit, making the drive a little risky in the dark early hours of the morning. My cousin was driving, and we were No time in backing out of there and speeding back onto the highway; we both were freaking out at this point. Not sure how he ended up at the same stop as us, despite Work got done, so if things were slow and there weren't any rentals for a couple of days, I'd usually go in after 7:00 and stay until around midnight or 1:00, since I knew I'd be alone and could listen to

music loud and take my time. The office where I worked was on the second floor of the building, above the old bar, and looked out on the long driveway. From my seat, I could easily see out the window, and once or twice, I saw a family of deer or a raccoon scamper by. I always glanced out when I saw a movement, since it was very noticeable. It was incredibly remote—very still and quiet—so if something unusual occurred or if something felt off, I would definitely notice it. One night during winter, it had snowed a few inches,

and my dad told me to stay in case the roads were that bad. But I had an old SUV, and more than that, I just really wanted to get out of the house, so I went into work anyway at about 8:00 p.m., and I was going to stay until just after 1:00. I always left the gate open at the bottom of the hill when I was working, since believe me when I say that nobody ever showed up at night; we were literally in the middle of nowhere. I think the nearest occupied house was about 2

miles down the road, and to even turn onto our short road, you had to be coming to our specific building and probably know it was there beforehand. It was a locals-only type of thing and very small; the family had inherited a lot of money, we were pretty sure at least, and kind of did this rental thing on the side. Basically, someone would never just get lost and end up at our building. So I'm jamming away to some Fall Out Boy, having some coffee, and I kept glancing at the snow outside here and there, since our

one orangish streetlight reflected onto the ground; the gate was causing the light to shine off the snow in a really cool and pretty way. At one point around midnight, I went downstairs to the big bathroom to do my business, then I came back upstairs and got settled back into my work. I probably did about 5 more minutes of work when I glanced outside and saw a huge imprint of something in the fresh snow just below the light. It seemed like it must have been a huge dog or substantial animal that had just rolled around on

the ground there on its back or something, since I didn't notice it just 15 minutes before. It had to have happened while I was in the bathroom or possibly when my back was turned, since I would have seen that type of movement for sure. I shook it off and assumed a big dog or maybe even a farm animal had gotten loose and was possibly attracted to the light or something—who knows? At around 2:00 in the morning, I was leaving and, as always, got out of my car to lock the gate up. To be honest, I

had pretty much forgotten about the imprint in the snow, but when I looked down, I was shocked to see that it wasn't just some disturbed snow; it was undeniably the imprint of a human-made snow angel. If you don't know what a snow angel is, it's when kids lie on their back in the snow and push their arms and legs back and forth, so when they get up, it looks like the outline of an angel. I used to do this when I was a kid, and I'm pretty sure most of you probably did too, so I

100% knew for sure that's what it was. It was deliberately made underneath the light post, but it wasn't from a kid; it was from a very large person, or at the very least a normal-sized adult wearing tons of layers of big winter clothing. I looked up and saw what I already knew—that whoever had made this snow angel could easily look up and have seen me through that window. So they must have waited for me to head downstairs to make this angel. Now, I definitely would have seen or heard if someone drove up to our building,

even if I was in the bathroom, so I knew someone had to have walked deep into the freezing cold and snow for a few miles, stopped in front of our building, and then made a snow angel in the small amount of time I wasn't sitting in front of my desk window. I glanced around for tracks in the snow and saw that there was one set that led to the nearby woods to the right of the building. So it was clear the person didn't use the road but instead came from the opposite side, which made me

instantly uneasy, since that side was just trees and darkness for miles and miles. I was definitely freaked out now, once I realized that someone had just been this close to me, secretly, in the middle of the woods. I looked around but didn't see anything amiss at all, and now I just wanted to get the hell out of there. When I got back into my car and drove a few feet, I realized that my boss would be there in like 4 hours. He might see the snow angel and assume I did it, since he probably assumed

I kept the gate locked when I was there. It wouldn't have been that big of a deal at all, but I was young and felt like I might be made fun of by him if nothing. Else, they were all manly men, if you know what I mean. So, I opened the gate back up real quick, ran over, and kicked the snow around so H, the angel, locked it up again and went back to my car. Also, I should note this is what really happened at this moment, but I almost lied here and said something else

since it seems fake. I assume the average person wouldn't get back out of their SUV and not just flee in their car because they'd be embarrassed about a snow angel. But at that time, I was pretty insecure, and I cared a lot about what others thought, so unfortunately, this is what I did. I also wasn't exactly fully terrified at this point, even though it was certainly unsettling. I just thought it was really weird and could have been an illegal hunter, even though hunting at night in the cold didn't make much sense. Either way, the imprint

was made two hours earlier, and I assumed they were long gone. But that's when I heard it. When I was getting into my SUV, there was the loudest, high-pitched laughing coming from the woods. It sounded like a fake laugh, like the witch in *The Wizard of Oz* or something—like something was doing it fake on purpose to show that they weren't scared of me or to see how I would react once I knew they were laughing at me on our property. It was close enough that I knew they could probably see me, but I couldn't see

them at all since, other than the streetlight I was under, there was no illumination. After a few seconds of laughing, they stopped. Then it was just silence everywhere except for my heart beating through my ears. Then the laughing started again, though louder this time, more like screaming and laughing combined. I sort of froze for just like five seconds, listening in a panic. Now, I spent a lot of time in that area, and I know what coyotes and foxes sound like at night, with their high-pitched screeches during mating season, so I can't completely logistically rule that

out. But to me, it honestly felt like it was an adult man trying to emulate a woman laughing, like someone was deliberately trying to make a fake, scary, shriek laugh in order to scare someone. Well, it certainly worked. After that five seconds, I was immediately filled with adrenaline, got in my car, and drove the hell away from there as fast as I could without sliding off the road. Back at home, I was up all night trying to figure it out, and I even told my parents the story when they woke up. After talking it out,

we all decided it was one of two things: it was either my brain somehow convinced itself that the snow formation was angel-shaped when it was really just caused by some animal, and then the snow tracks and laughing were just a coyote or red fox, though I don't think that's what it was. What I truly believe is the second thing, which is that some local was out walking around for some reason and decided to mess with me. I didn't have any close friends left in that area that would do this, and if they would, they certainly

would have brought it up to make fun of me for speeding away in terror. I found out later that the nearest house was a super old couple, so I highly doubt that it was one of them, which means whomever it was went out into the woods at night in the freezing cold just to mess with a stranger. I don't have any mental issues or family history of them. I didn't do drugs; sometimes, I drank socially at that time, but certainly didn't that night. I also don't believe in the paranormal, so I never once gave that

a thought. In my heart, I feel like someone was out there. I worked there another six weeks or so and never had a single issue, though I knew where my boss kept his gun and always made sure it was there when I started my shift. But I certainly always locked the gate from then on. Thinking about this experience that night, the part that freaked me out the most was that he had to have waited around for me to leave for at least two hours just to do that laugh. He didn't know me; I could have

been crazy and the type of person to get mad and try to find him and attack him or something. Yet he didn't seem scared or to care while he tried to mess with me. For some random dude, this is probably a story he tells from his point of view to make all of his friends giggle hysterically. But for me, that dude—the one I call Angel and the Snow Guy, the one with the laugh—I’ll never forget. Now I drive for Lyft while putting myself through trade school. I drive for other similar companies, but that's besides the

point. I have many horror stories from those as well, but I'll tell those another time. It was Christmas Eve of 2020; I was out running Lyft for a few hours before heading to my mom's with my new baby and wife. Nothing special going on for the night, just the usual. I get a ride request; it was a pickup from this kind of lower-income apartment complex. No big deal. I arrive, and I find my passenger, and he has all of his belongings—several boxes of stuff. Now, my car is a 2006 Chevy Impala, so it's not very

big. We get all of his stuff loaded up, barely, and we are on our way. During the ride, he's crying, saying his girlfriend was cheating on him and he had... I walked in on them earlier that night. Apparently, he couldn't stay there because it was her name on the lease, so I was taking him to a hotel. Now, in my city, we have a street that is well-known for having vices: hookers, drugs, gangs, weapons, and shady motels—the works. We get there, and he asks me to wait for him to check in and get his key.

“Hey, no problem, man,” I said. I'll confess, I break the rules a little bit when it comes to Lyft; I have a gun hidden in a concealed holster secured to the underside of my driver's seat for protection. The reason being, driving for Lyft and other contract apps, I've had knives and guns pulled on me, as well as people trying to fight me, rob me, and all kinds of crazy other things. But like I said, another time. This motel was on the street I mentioned before. Homeless people were everywhere, and there was a dude on the

far corner of the complex that still had a needle in his arm, passed out against a building. I'll be the first to admit I'm a big fan of true crime and horror narration, so I was on edge. He gets his key, and the whole motel is ground level, so to help the guy out, I drive to his door. As I mentioned before, he had a lot of stuff, so I started to help him unload it. While on my second trip of getting stuff, I saw a guy come out of a room just to the south

of my car, followed by two ladies. They come up to the room I was next to—not my passenger. One of the ladies pounded on the door, then opened it. That's when I saw that guy raise a freaking shotgun up out of his long coat and storm into the room. The two ladies followed him, slamming the door behind them. Following this, I heard a lot of yelling and shouting, and I was just waiting for the shots to ring out. Out of nowhere, my passenger came up behind me. “Hey, I can take this, man. Go ahead and

take off. Have a Merry Christmas!” Then he gave me an additional cash tip. I didn't even notice he took the boxes out of my hands or left a $5 bill in my pocket. At first, I was frozen. I knew what may have been going on down in that room. I had to leave or at least get to where I could get my gun. I know the guy and both ladies saw me, and I know they knew I saw the gun, so I had to get out of there—no witnesses. I got in my car and sped

away quickly. I got a block or so away and called the cops, giving them every detail. After I got off the phone with the police, I signed out of Lyft. I hadn't made much money, but I was done. I got a call later that night, and the cops investigated. They never found the gunman or the women; they never answered the door I saw them come out of, and the occupants of the room they went into said that nothing happened and that I was full of [ __ ]. Well, I know what I saw. This event

happened in January of 2013. I was then a 17-year-old guy living in Portland, Oregon. Throughout high school, I was always very active in cycling. I would often find myself cycling in the early morning and late at night—either coming back from school or from a friend's house. I didn't have a driver's license yet, so cycling was the only viable option for me if the weather permitted it. I lived in a safe area of the city, and I had good lighting, so I was never afraid of cycling in the dark. However, one night during my senior year

of high school, this would all change. The distance from my school to my house was around 6 km sticking to main roads, but about 4 km taking a shortcut through a nice wooded park. I had finished a long music rehearsal, and I was tired. It was already 10:40 p.m., and I was feeling extremely exhausted. I decided to take the shortcut home. Although the park can be very scary due to the lack of lighting, I've taken that shortcut before at dark. During the summer, there's usually some crowds still at the park, but this was winter, and

the park had a very different feeling—being completely dark with no one around. At around 10:50 or so, I took a left turn from the lit road into the wooded park. Already, the scenery went from serene to frightening. I could get through it in around 10 minutes; however, halfway through the dark area, I happened to run into two guys wearing dark-colored hoods. Aside from the fact that they were not wearing reflective clothing, they looked threatening and scary. I could not see their faces very well until I was within 20 meters of them. As I passed them,

I heard them quietly talking about something. Suddenly, both guys pulled out large knives from their jackets. My heart immediately sank, and my adrenaline started to kick in. One of the guys started to yell curse words at me, and both charged at me wielding their knives. I was preparing for the worst, thinking that I could end up dead and dumped somewhere. Fortunately for me, I was able to see a path that led to a lit street, and I quickly cycled fast out of there. Normally, my legs would get tired since it was a good 400 m

to the busy road. As I got onto the lit road, I saw some light traffic and immediately felt much safer. About 15 seconds later... Later, the two guys walked out and pretended not to see me. I let out a sigh of relief as they went the opposite direction from where I was heading. As I checked my iPhone for the time, another feeling of dread hit me when the time on my phone showed 11:15 p.m. My immediate reaction was, "What the hell? Was I really in that park for more than 20 minutes?" It felt so much

shorter than 25 minutes with how panicked I was. I quickly cycled home and eventually reached there about 5 minutes later. I ended up not telling my parents about this, as I would get in very serious trouble with them. After a few days, the horrifying thought of almost being murdered in a desolate park started to vanish from my mind. I never went through that park at night again, and I didn't even go through that park for a few months after that period. Just a week later, some very horrific news ended up shocking my neighborhood: a very

popular junior from my high school was violently stabbed and killed in a brawl. He and his friends were doing some shopping at a store when three male teenagers started to cause some trouble and stole some items. When he confronted the three guys, they became violent, and a large fight broke out between them. The guys ended up stabbing the poor boy multiple times, and he was rushed to the hospital. Sadly, he succumbed to his injuries. He was on the football and basketball teams in my school and was a very kind-hearted person in general. His death devastated

the entire community. A few days afterward, I came to read the news, and I was met with horror and disgust. Two of those three teenagers were the exact same guys I encountered at the park late at night. Despite both only being 18 years of age, they looked like they were at least in their late 20s. Those three teenagers were quickly identified by many of my schoolmates as they graduated from a different high school a year before but were very active on social media. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been athletic and

wasn't able to outrun those hooded guys. I've been in fights and beaten up before, but I'd never been so scared for my life until this incident. A few years ago, when I still lived in Upstate New York, something really freaky happened to me. If you've ever been there during the winter, you know that it snows a lot. I usually just spent snowy nights watching TV. I lived about a mile or so from any other house, and my roommate was out. Now, I'll be honest: being alone made me feel uncomfortable. I've always had an overactive imagination,

and a small noise could really freak me out. Like I was saying, my roommate was out, and it was snowing heavily. It was probably 9 or 10 at night, and I was watching TV, like normal. All of a sudden, I heard a crunch outside, like someone stepping on ice. I immediately tensed up, and my mind raced to every possibility. It wasn't my roommate since I didn't hear a car. I listened in horror as the crunches got louder. I ran into my room and locked the door. I got out my shotgun and grabbed my phone, ready

to call 911, just in case. I know I might seem like I was overreacting, but remember, this is at night in heavy snow, miles away from any other house. Who could possibly be outside? The footsteps just stopped at some point. I eventually fell asleep, and when I woke up, my roommate was back. I went outside to see if I could find any evidence of who was outside, and what I found still haunts me. I saw footprints in the snow coming out of the woods and circling around my house. The footprints were filled in for the

most part, so it was hard to figure out where they were going. The scariest part of all this is that the footprints stopped outside of my bedroom window. The other footprints were filled in, but these were fresh, as if someone had been standing there all night since the snow stopped early in the morning. To this day, it still scares me. I don't know what kind of person would be out in those woods. The fact that I was in my room while they were standing outside my bedroom window still freaks me out. I moved out of

that house a few months later. We moved to Connecticut the summer before I entered sixth grade, so 2001, into a beautiful new house in one of the most beautiful towns—a bit more rural than we were used to in New Jersey, but it was an adjustment. My sister is 2 years younger than me, so she was going into fourth grade at the time; it's relevant, by the way, to the story. We came from a neighborhood where we were all super close and everyone knew one another—block parties every summer, kids running back and forth to one another's

houses—and we were sad to leave it. Within the first weeks, we met some of our neighbors, and everyone was what we soon defined as very Connecticut. In particular, our neighbors directly across the street seemed a bit odd. The mom would come over to vent to my mom about her sons and husband or ex-husband; we couldn't really figure it out at the time, and my mom was a sweetheart and was very welcoming. The holidays came around, and the neighbor boy across the street, who was in my sister's fourth-grade class, made my sister come back slightly alarmed

with what had happened in class that day. The students were asked to make a Thanksgiving turkey. Out of a trace drawing of their hands on each finger, they were to write the things they were thankful for. The neighbor wrote things like being a loser, hating myself, etc.—extremely dark things for a fourth grader. Fast forward to Christmas, and my mom hears that they have nowhere to go for the holiday, so she politely invites the mother and two sons to our annual Christmas Eve party. The boys were really strange; they listened to Japanese techno with headphones on

and just spoke to nobody. They headed straight to our basement to play video games. It was weird. The younger one was always much stranger than the older one, and the mom would always open up to my mom and aunt, who works with special needs students, about how he would hurt himself and how he needed to be put in special needs programs, but that he could never quite be diagnosed. They thought he was kind of on the spectrum at first, but that quickly proved to not be the case. We always assumed she'd been confiding in them

because my aunt was experienced with special needs kids and that she was looking for advice. The Christmas Eve stood out to me because they were at our home in a very intimate setting, but we saw them on a daily basis. My sister and I would come home from school, telling my mom about how weird the younger neighbor boy was—that something was off. I'll never forget her telling us, "Just be nice to him; you don't know what he is capable of." That struck me so odd at the time, but we just listened. I don't know if

his mother told my mom something that scared her and made her say it, or she just had a gut instinct. Recently after that—and I can't quite remember if this was middle school or high school, but I believe it was ninth grade, and my sister and younger neighbor were both in seventh—so we all rode the bus together. What my mom said stuck out in my mind, so today I decided to be friendlier than usual. There was snow on the ground, and the younger neighbor boy was drawing something in it and muttering to himself some sort of

gibberish that I had no idea about. But anyways, I decided to greet him, "Hey Adam, good morning." No eye contact from him; he just looked at me and said, "I'll bomb you," making no eye contact. Okay, so we let it slide, and we came home and told my mom. She reiterated, "Just be nice; we don't know what he's capable of." Keep in mind, we were kids; we didn't know what to take seriously and what not to. I wish we would have done more. Also, keep in mind he wasn't someone who was bullied or made fun

of; he was just always off in the sense that he could not hold eye contact or a conversation, or even a simple hello. Kids didn't make fun of him, and he was a loner, but it seemed to be by choice. I didn't know why we were cautious and afraid around him, other than the fact that he showed zero warmth and zero humanity. We knew he had special needs, so we never really second-guessed anything and just tried to be as polite as possible. When the bus would drop us off at all of our houses, he would

run all the way up his driveway on the hill with his hands by his sides, and then turn around and kind of make a hiss noise down at everyone, making claws with his hands. It was always so odd, but again, we were kids, and there were always a couple of kids in school who were a little strange. We just took it as that. They were invited to several Christmas Eves, so my memories kind of blend here. One year, the neighbor started screaming at my innocent grandmother for being a Yankees fan, because she was a Red

Sox fan. It was beyond strange because my grandma, who is the cutest little lady of all time, was in no way trying to argue over sports; it was as though the woman clearly had a weird switch go off. She was always nice to me, but I'll be honest, we rolled our eyes every time my mom invited them. It was always such forced conversations with her; as a teenager, I wanted nothing to do with being cornered into another chat. I think she just must have been lonely. The following year, and the final year they were invited

to Christmas Eve, was when she got into it with my mom about having guns in the house. The boys only attended the first couple of Christmas Eves, so it was just the mom's time. Around the topic of guns, the neighbor mom started telling my mom about how she has guns in the house and how she takes her younger boy out to the shooting range all the time. My mom said that she didn't agree with having guns in the house but wasn't trying to argue. Our neighbor suddenly got out of hand about it—very defensive and ultimately

getting aggressive about how she grew up in New Hampshire and that was just the way of life there. Our neighbor told us how brilliant her younger neighbor boy was and that he had hacked into some of the government's highest levels of security and that the CIA showed up on his doorstep. We absolutely have no idea if the story is true or not, but this is just what she told us. So it became our ongoing joke when anything strange happened at her house, like there would be a few things odd throughout the years—maybe our internet had

clearly been messed with, lights would flicker in the house, and... We would just joke that it was the young neighbor boy each time. It wasn't until December 14th, 2012, that we knew just what he was capable of. I was out of college, working outside of Philadelphia, with my sister still a student in college and my youngest brother a student at the high school. The worst day of all of our lives! My dad heard the gunshots in the morning that killed the neighbor mom, Nancy Lanza. He assumed it had been a hunter in the area, maybe

a little closer than usual, until the police showed up and he had to evacuate the house as snipers lined our driveway. My mom was at the mall, and we were all frantically calling one another as the news broke slowly throughout the day. At first, they had his identity wrong and said it was his brother, but we knew it had to have been him. Thank God for my mom making sure we were as nice as possible, although I don't know that it would have stopped him. I wish we would have done more at the time. I

wish we knew to do more at the time, but we didn't. We didn't want to assume the worst out of someone, but I wish we would have. Twenty students and six teachers were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School that day— the worst act of evil I've ever experienced so directly in my life, and I hope I will never experience it again. I'm thankful that we survived growing up across the street from him, but unfortunately, those who did not get so lucky were kids— those little kids in a place that should be the safest haven for

them in their youth. I hate it so much. When I was about 12, my great uncle John came from Ukraine to visit us in Canada. He had a lot of stories, but this one was the one that stood out. In the late 1960s, John was traveling by train from his village to another to visit his family. He had to change trains at one point and was dropped off at what amounted to a platform and a hut in the middle of nowhere. There was no one else in the station, and other than a dirt road that

led off into the surrounding woods, there was nothing there. He waited for some time, but no train came. It was winter, and getting colder and darker. Just about the time he started worrying about a place to stay and some food to eat, an old woman appeared out of the twilight. She asked if he was waiting for such and such train, and when he said he was, she said it wouldn't be along until the following day. She asked if he needed a bed for the night and offered him a meal and room at her house, which

she said was about an hour's walk from the station. Lodging with locals was more or less the standard when traveling in this part of the USSR, and great uncle John wasn't looking forward to a hungry night on a cold platform, so he was glad to accept her offer. He took his suitcase, and they set off together down the dirt road into the forest. It was more than an hour away— more like two— and by the time they arrived at the woman's small, two-story house, John was extremely tired and hungry. They went inside, and the woman

lit some oil lamps and warmed some borscht for them. It was the first time John was able to see the woman clearly, and he was a bit startled to realize that the old woman was actually a man. Not wanting to pry and too tired to care, John finished his soup and asked where he would be sleeping. She led him up the stairs to a tiny room with a window that contained a single bed and nothing else. He thanked her, however, and said good night, and she closed the door. Then she locked it, leaving him in

the dark. Somewhat creeped out by this, John called to her, but she didn't answer, and he heard nothing else. Figuring he would deal with it in the morning and that she probably had done it by mistake, John set his suitcase down and lay on the bed. Deciding to make the best of it, he tried to get some sleep. Before he could fall asleep, though, he felt the urge to pee and got out of bed, hoping to find a chamber pot or something he could pee in. He got onto his hands and knees and began to

feel under the bed in the darkness, thinking that's where the pot would be if there was one. Instead, he found a body. Nope. Great uncle John said he went right to the window to see if he could exit the room that way, but it was nailed shut. He knew that if he remained in the room, he was probably a dead man, but if he broke the window and tried to get away, there was a good chance that the old woman— and who knows who else was there— would hear him and come into the room before

he could get away. So he did the only thing he could do: he pulled the body from under the bed, heaved it onto the mattress, and covered it with a blanket, then got under the bed and waited. Sure enough, about an hour later, he heard footsteps coming slowly up the stairs and then toward the room. The lock clicked, and the knob turned slowly in the gloom. John saw someone move toward the bed, and then he heard several terrific and sickening thuds. The person had bashed the body off the bed with a large crowbar, which they

then dropped onto the floor right in front of John. There was silence. Then the— The person went out of the room, and the door was shut again. The footsteps went down the stairs, and then there was silence again. John then moved out from under the bed, took the crowbar, and was able to slowly pry the window open. He didn't say, but I imagine he was [ __ ] bricks the entire time. When the window was up, he threw his suitcase out, then dove through, not caring what was below him, only worried about what was behind.

Thankfully, he landed without too much injury and began to run into a field behind the house toward some lights in the far distance. It turned out to be a highway with some military and transport trucks on it, and he was able to get a ride to another village where he could catch a train. He didn't bother reporting what had happened to the authorities since, at that time in the USSR, there was a distinct chance he would have been the one who'd gotten in trouble. He just thanked God he escaped and decided that the next time

he traveled to visit relatives, he would take another way. A few years ago, on Christmas Eve, my friend Frank and I were driving around. I'm pretty sure we were just getting some last-minute shopping done. At one point, we stopped by a CVS to get some cards. By this time, it was pretty dark outside. On our way out, we were stopped by a heavyset woman who was waiting by the entrance. She asked if there was any way we could give her a ride down the street. Now, under normal circumstances, I would have immediately said no and

come up with some excuse about how I needed to be somewhere else ASAP. I just don't let random strangers into my car; this world is too crazy now. But given that it was Christmas Eve and it was snowing pretty hard, I decided to help. She got in the back seat and said she lived just down the street, not even five minutes away. Before I headed in that direction, I drove across the street to the bank. Not that I needed to inform her, but while I was at the ATM drive-thru, I was just explaining that I

needed to get some money out and then we'd head toward her home. That's when [ __ ] got awkward real fast. She asked me if I'd be able to let her borrow some money until she got paid again. I glanced over at Frank real quick, who looked like he wanted to just start cracking up but held it in. We literally picked this lady up two minutes ago, and she's asking to borrow money as if she's a friend. All I could say was, "Excuse me?" But she just asked again like it was no big deal. I

followed up by asking her how I knew I would get my money back with no contact info. Then she replied, saying she'd give me her cell phone number, but that it's shut off right now, and it'll be on next week. Honestly, I just wanted to laugh so hard. Did she honestly think I was going to believe this crap? So, I took another $20 out of the ATM. I definitely wasn't planning on giving it to her, but I had it in my wallet and told her I'd give her the money when we got to her house.

Once we were on the main road, I asked for directions, but she decided to change her mind. She didn't want to go home anymore; instead, she wanted to go to her friend's house. This was getting too suspicious, and I really just wanted to pull over and tell her to get the hell out of my car, but I kept driving and followed her new directions. Wherever she took us was far out of my way; it was about 15 minutes from the original destination, and it was mostly side roads that we were taking. I wasn't too familiar

with the area, and I could tell we were pretty much in the ghetto. She finally had me pull over and said, "Right here is fine." I wasn't exactly sure what house belonged to her so-called friend because there were a few on the left side of the street, and to the right was a cemetery, which was kind of freaky in itself. I waited for her to thank me or say something—literally anything—and finally get the hell out of my car, but she just sat in the back seat with an awkward smile on her face. I looked back

and asked if she was waiting for her friend to come out; she quickly said, "No, I'm just waiting for my money." I looked at Frank again, and we were both pretty stunned by her answer. I wasn't about to let some stranger I just helped talk to me like I owed her something, so I told her I'm not giving her the money, and if she needs help, she can ask her friend. She started getting loud, telling me that I'd give her the money that I promised her. This [ __ ] was just getting crazy, and I

just wanted to psycho out of my car. I looked out of my window, and by this point, there were other people in the street and on the sidewalk. I'm not sure if these people just happened to be outside or if they heard her yelling or, hell, if she had something planned, but my mind was racing. I couldn't think straight, and she wouldn't stop. I realized these people outside were getting closer to my car, and then I heard the front door handle try to open. Some man was outside my window yelling, asking, "What's going on?" So

I finally just took the $2 out of my wallet and threw it at her. She grabbed it. and instantly left my car, then took off running. I got out of that neighborhood as fast as I could. When we found the main road, I felt a little bit better, but I was pissed that I just got played by some lady. I didn't even care about the $20 because I already knew that I wasn't getting it back. But mark my words, I'll never give another stranger R again. The story took place when I was 23 years old,

close to 10 years ago. I was living in Upstate New York in a very rural area with my ex-boyfriend and his family. He and I used to argue quite a bit. One morning, before he went to work, he and I got into a very heated argument. During this particular fight, he acted majorly juvenile; he jumped out of bed, flipped me the bird, and yelled, "If you don't like it so much, then why don't you go back to the effing Bronx?" That was all the prompting I needed. I threw all my Uggs in my winter jacket,

grabbed my cigarettes, and flew out of the house. I'm unfortunately an impulsive ass and didn't think to grab my cell phone before I stormed out. I didn't drive, so my only option was to walk. I'll think of the time that I intended to walk back to the Bronx, as it was a 3-hour car ride upstate, but I just needed to go for an angry, dramatic walk. I realized once I got to this road at the entrance of the trailer park that I had no idea where anything really was around me, as I had only lived

there a few months at that point, and I really didn't go out a lot. I banked left and just walked and walked to where I knew civilization was. I found myself walking alongside a very busy stretch of road, with 18-wheelers flying by, spraying me with slushy snow and soaking my shoes. I then saw my boyfriend driving by on his way to work, and he sped up as he drove past me, evidently still angry about our fight. I thought for sure he was going to turn around at some point, but he never came back. I pressed

on, deciding instead to try to walk to my best friend's mother's house, which I knew to be in the same town. It started to snow, and I was losing momentum. I passed by a VFW where a nondescript pickup truck was parked in the drive. It wasn't until I had passed it that I even realized the driver was in the front seat. He called out to me, "Hey, honey, do you need help?" My stomach turned. I realized I would have to accept the stranger's offer. I approached his truck slowly and tried to weigh out my options.

He was a clean-cut, seemingly normal older white guy with gray hair and greenish-blue eyes—just average. I blurted out, "Are you a good guy or a bad guy?" and cringed at myself for asking such a dumbass question. He answered, "Ha, I'm a good guy. I wouldn't tell you if I was a bad guy." I ignored the bells going off in my head and got in the front seat with him. As we drove, I realized I had no clue where my friend's mom actually lived. I only knew the name of the road she lived on, but it

spanned a good distance, so it wasn't very helpful in terms of finding it. I asked to borrow his cell phone so I could try calling my best friend to ask her where the heck I was going. I called her three times, and she didn't answer because she didn't recognize the number. I started to feel inexplicably hopeless. After a few minutes, he asked me where I was from and why I was out in the middle of nowhere in the snow wearing pajamas. I explained that I was originally from the Bronx and that I had gotten into

a fight with my boyfriend. He paused and said, "Hey, you wouldn't be interested in making a little bit of money, would you?" I chuckled nervously and said, "Uh, no thanks." Then he responded, "Well, I just figured since you were from the Bronx..." I was now realizing at that point that I was almost definitely in deep [ __ ]. I muttered, "Oh, sure, sure." He then eyed me up and down and laughed, sneering, "Sure, sure, she says." I started to panic big time but knew I couldn't show my fear. I scoured the scenery for a pillowy

snowbank that I could land in if I leapt out of the truck, but to no avail; the houses were so few and far in between. I became certain this would be how I met my demise. I'll never know why, but it was at this point that he decided to ask me who I was going to see. I quickly blurted out my best friend's mom's name and her husband's full name. He instantly perked up and explained that he knew the husband and how they used to snowmobile together 20 years ago. I felt the greatest wave of

relief when he explained that he knew exactly where his old buddy lived. When we finally pulled up to that big yellow house, it was like arriving to the promised land. I asked for his name—"Steve," he said—then asked for mine. I actually gave him a fake name and spat out a [ __ ], "Thank you," and then I ran as fast as I could from his truck to the porch. I cracked the door through the front door without knocking and locked it behind me. I immediately started crying and running through the house trying to find my

friend's mom. I had awoken her from a sound sleep, but... to place my order without having to wait in line. A young guy came up to the counter and greeted me. "Hi! Welcome to Subway. What can I get for you?" I ordered a turkey sandwich, trying to shake off the unsettling feelings from earlier. As I waited for my food, I glanced around the shop, taking in the sparse decorations and the faint smell of bread baking. Once my sandwich was ready, I paid and headed back to my car, feeling a little more at ease. I settled

into my seat, took a deep breath, and reminded myself that I was safe now. After a long day, I just wanted to enjoy my food and relax at home. After finishing my sandwich, I decided to drive home the back roads instead of the highway, hoping to enjoy the quiet of Christmas Eve. The streets were mostly empty, and the lights from the homes sparkled like tiny stars against the dark backdrop. I turned on some holiday music and tried to immerse myself in the festive spirit, forgetting about the earlier incident as best I could. As I drove,

however, the sense of unease returned. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I glanced in the rearview mirror more often than usual and kept an eye on the car behind me. It was a blue Honda Accord—just like the one I had seen in the parking lot earlier. My heart raced as I tried to focus on the road ahead. Was it just a coincidence, or was it the same car? After several tense moments, I managed to reach my neighborhood. I pulled into my driveway, parked, and quickly grabbed my things, keeping my gaze fixed

on the street. My heart was pounding in my chest as I rushed to the front door, fumbling with my keys. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and let out a shaky breath. I was finally home. I sighed with relief, thankful to be in a place where I felt safe. That night, I couldn't shake my anxiety, but as I settled on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa, I reminded myself that I was surrounded by the warmth of my family and the comfort of my home. Christmas Day would bring its own joys, and

for now, I needed to focus on the good things that no one could take away from me. To get the attention of the only person working in the store, I thought, "I locked the door; we just closed." He said, "Oh man, please come on! I just got off work, and I just want to grab something to eat before I go to bed. I'll be really quick; I promise." I begged him. I felt bad, but he sighed and agreed, probably taking pity on how exhausted I looked. We talked for a little bit about working the late-night

shift on Christmas Eve as he made my sandwich, before a group of teenage boys walked into the store. "Hey, we're closed, guys. I'm going to lock the store after I'm done making her sandwich," he said. "But I want a sandwich!" one of the boys whined. Fine. The subway employee got out from behind the counter and locked the door so no one else would be able to get in, and he could ensure that the teenagers would be his last customers of the night. He finished making my sandwich and left me to pick out my drink and

chips at the soda fountain while the subway employee disappeared into the back. I put the lid to my cup on and was looking for a straw when something caught my eye. The man from the dumpster was waiting in the parking lot next to my car. It was that blue Honda Accord. I really started to freak out at that point. There was no reason for this guy to be in my town, an hour away from the mall, at the exact place I decided to stop. If he wasn't following me, what was he doing on the hood

of his car? It was the day before Christmas, and it was snowing and well below 30°. "Hey, uh, can you guys walk me to my car?" I asked the group of boys. "Yeah, you all right?" one of the boys asked. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. I just don't want to slip on any ice," I lied. Obviously, I felt a little silly saying that because there was probably a perfectly good reason for the man from the dumpster to be in the parking lot—something that didn't have anything to do with me—but I was super nervous still. The boys

walked me to my car and waited until I drove off. The man didn't even look at me as I got into my car. I had about ten minutes until I got to my house, and I tried to shake the weird feeling I got about the man in the dumpster. It took me a while to notice, but I realized that there was someone following me. It was hard to see because the car's lights were off, but I noticed the car when I glanced in my rearview mirror as I drove under a street light. I started to

get nervous again and drove past my house, turning back onto the main road, hoping I would lose this guy. This guy stayed on my tail, and I watched my mirror as we went under a street light again. It was that same blue Honda Accord. I pulled out my phone and called 911, explaining the situation to the dispatcher. The dispatcher had advised me to drive to the nearest police station and told me she would inform the police station of what was going on. I stayed on the line with the dispatcher until I pulled into the police

station. The Honda Accord drove past the station. There was a police car waiting outside the station that drove after the guy, but ultimately, there was nothing they could do besides give him a ticket for driving with his lights off. My description of the man by the dumpster matched the driver of the Accord. I don't know what he had planned, but I haven't seen him since, and I told my boss about the incident so I won't have to take the trash out on my own anymore.