Scary Stories For A Long And Lonely Rainy Night (Story Comp Vol. 2) | Ripshy.

My name is Cam. Coming up to four months ago, I had one of the most terrifying encounters of my life. I'm going to show you that this event, unfortunately, is completely true. To give some context to my story, I live in a small country called New Zealand, in a pretty popular area called Papamoa. This all took place about four months ago during one of our high school breaks in September. My friends and I were planning on making big plans to travel across the country to make the most of our study leave, which was given

to us before our final exams. However, none of us used this time for study, but rather to travel, drink, and get up to mischief. I was honestly really looking forward to it, but just as all the plans we made were being finalized for me, they were put on hold after one conversation with my parents. My parents told me they were going out of town for a few days and that I would need to house-sit, and that I couldn't go anywhere until they returned. Obviously, I was pretty bummed out, but I'm not the kind of person

to dwell on the negative, so instead I tried to find positives out of the new situation, like how we now had more time to plan. The time came for my parents to leave; it was around 1 PM on a Friday. I said my goodbyes, and off they went. From that point on, I was now home alone. Instantly, I jumped back into my bed and turned on my TV to watch some YouTube. I was going to be home alone for three nights; you best believe I was going to be as lazy as possible before my parents

returned. The first night came and went pretty fast, with zero dramas at all. The second night, however, is when my home-alone experience really took a dark turn. I want to say it was about 7 PM when I just started eating dinner while listening to music, much like the previous night. All of a sudden, during a pause between my music, I could have sworn I heard a footstep on the gravel outside. I immediately took my headphones off and just sat there in silence. To help picture my situation, I feel like a brief description is necessary. I

was currently in the kitchen, which is located on the first floor. The kitchen is connected to the main lounge area and dining room. There's a small cupboard with a crawl space that is located in the living room near the kitchen. The stairs to the second floor are located in the hallway, which is immediately on the right as you leave the lounge room. My bedroom is located at the very end of the second-floor hallway. From where I was in the kitchen, the footsteps sounded like they came from the pool area, which isn't fully complete, which is

why I thought it was on gravel. Silence was deafening; I heard nothing for at least three minutes, so I thought I was just being paranoid. However, as soon as I reached for my headphones, I heard it again. It was that same noise as before, but this time it happened at least six times before going back to complete silence. Now, I was 100% sure that I had not just heard one, but two pairs of boots on the gravel. Immediately, I went into survival mode and quietly snuck over to turn off the kitchen and living room lights,

which were the only two on in the entire house. I grabbed a kitchen knife and made my way to the garage, which is on the opposite side of the property from where the pool was. The reason I went to the garage was to grab the compound bow I used for hunting; this decision may have saved my life. I was going to make my way up to the second floor when I started to hear loud bangs on the living room sliding door, which, thank God, was locked. There was no way in hell I was going to

open that door. I quietly made my way up the stairs to the second floor and then into my bedroom, all while I continued to hear bangs and footsteps around the property as whoever was out there tried to find an entrance. My bedroom had a small deck that I could access to gain a great overwatch view of the backyard. I quietly lifted a lock and gently slid the door open just enough for me to squeeze through. As soon as I stepped outside, I heard a deep voice say, "Hold here; I'm gonna check the other side." Now

I knew there were at least two intruders. Rapid footsteps made their way to the other side of the property until I could no longer hear them. I waited a minute before I appeared over the side of the deck, and there one of them was: a man completely covered in black clothing, standing at least six foot five, I would say. He was cupping his hands in the living room window, trying to get a better look inside. This couldn't have been a prank by my mates, as none of them were that tall, nor did they have a

voice that deep. Despite being only 18 years of age, I was very nervous about what to do next. As I was trying to come up with a plan, I heard the familiar deep voice call out, "Over here! I found something!" My mind began racing, thinking, could I have left anything unlocked? I snuck back into my bedroom and closed and locked my bedroom door before returning to the deck. It was silent. The silence lasted a long time, like 20 minutes of pure silence, with nothing but crickets and a light breeze. I began wondering where they had

gone, but out of nowhere, an ear-piercing, heart-dropping sound of glass shattering filled my ears. Now I was practically in full-on Hunter mode. My first thought was to call the police, as any normal person would do, so I reached for my pockets and felt around. I let out a silent "Oh no!" because, stupidly, I had left my phone on the kitchen counter after I heard the original footsteps. So that plan was unfortunately gone. The next plan was to run to the neighbors; however, it was a five-minute run to my nearest neighbor's house, and I was on

my deck on the second floor, with the intruders clearly now in the house blocking my exit. All I could really do was wait. For what, exactly, I didn't know. I crouched in my room and just listened as I heard heavy footsteps marching around the first floor of the house. Drawers and cupboards opened and slammed shut all throughout the house. My heart sank because I heard the very familiar sound of someone walking up the stairs. It was at this moment that I pinched myself to make sure this wasn't a dream. One by one, I heard door

after door open, and two people marching into each room. If they were robbing the place, they wouldn't be marching through each room so fast, so they were looking for me. I heard the doorknob to my bedroom door turn before the lock did its job. I heard a different voice say, "In here." It was at this moment I knew these guys were going to come in; for all I knew, they could have been armed. This was confirmed not even ten seconds later, as I heard a long scratching sound of a knife against my door. Don't get

me wrong, I'm a pretty skilled archer, but the likelihood of me being able to draw two arrows in the time it took for the two men to grab me was very slim. So I decided to do something that most people wouldn't think to do: I climbed from my deck up to the roof by pulling myself up from a pipe going down the side of my house. The pipe let out a creak as it struggled with the weight I was putting on it. I barely managed to get myself and the compound bow up without making too

much noise. I drew my first arrow and waited, angling slightly toward the entrance to my deck while hiding behind a dip in the roof. I was on the roof, waiting for what felt like an eternity, before I started to hear the sound of bodies banging on my bedroom door. There was nothing I could do but wait for the inevitable. I heard the bedroom door fall to the floor; my adrenaline was now through the roof. I heard my wardrobe door aggressively fly open and coat hangers being thrown around. One of the men said, "Where the [___]

could he have gone?" but the other replied, "Out there." Just then, one of the men stepped outside onto my deck. I was frozen in place with an arrow aimed at this guy's chest, praying that he wouldn't see me and that he would just leave after thinking I fled. I saw the man's eyes reflecting in the moonlight as he scanned the area searching for me until he swiftly gazed up at the roof. I felt our eyes lock into each other, and that's when the guy yelled, "There he is!" The man was pointing straight at me with

a small blade. I had no choice; I released the arrow and watched as it pierced the man's stomach. He let out a scream of pure agony as he fell to the ground of my deck, and I watched as the tall man I had seen earlier went onto the deck and dragged his injured companion back into my bedroom. I want to say I bravely charged the other man down, but I didn't. I was frozen. I had never had to use a weapon on another human before, so I didn't know how to feel. I heard the man

crying in agony as he was being dragged back down the stairs. I snapped back to reality and got down from the roof, as I knew my parents kept a spare phone in the bedroom. I silently made my way past my now broken door down the hall to my parents' room and locked the door behind me. I immediately called the police, who said they would be there in 15 minutes. I wasn't happy about that, but at least they were coming. I listened as I heard crunching glass, closely followed by footsteps running away from the broken window,

which I assumed was in the garage. I thought to myself, how could the guy shot with an arrow be running away from the house in the state he was just in before? But I didn't care; as long as they were gone, I wasn't going to leave my parents' room until the police got there. I wasn't willing to take any chances. Another 15 minutes passed until the relieving sound of sirens filled the air. I ran down to the front gate to let the officers in. The police searched the first and second floors of the house with

no sign of the intruders still being there. Given the state of my house, the police left two patrol cars outside for the night to make sure nobody would return. As I slept in my parents' room with the door locked, I called my parents, and they said they were going to cancel their trip and return home by tomorrow afternoon. I didn't get much sleep that night; I was too terrified to. Close my eyes, just expect The Intruders to be in the house again. I wish I could say this is where the story ended, but no, there

was still more horror to come. After being able to muster up about two hours of sleep, I slowly got out of bed and saw the time was exactly 6:38 A.M. I remember this time clear as day. I went downstairs and looked out the living room window and saw the patrol cars were still there. One of the officers gave me a wave as he noticed I was awake. I went down and told the officers my parents would be home by lunchtime. These officers were extremely nice, and they told me they would wait until my parents got

home, as they saw how exhausted I was from my night of very little sleep. I thanked them greatly and returned to the kitchen area to make breakfast. Then I heard it—a very quiet groan. It was the type of groan that you would make when you first stretch after waking up. I was silent. I knew it couldn't have been me or the officers outside, so who or what was it? I grabbed two knives from the knife rack, and I listened. That was when I heard the same groan again, but this time my ears were switched on,

and I was able to identify the sound as coming from the cupboard where the towels and crawl space were located. Then I made the stupidest decision I possibly could have. Instead of getting the officers literally outside of my house, I crouched up to the cupboard and waited. I could now clearly hear the sound of breathing, along with the sight of a few dark spots of what I could only think to be blood confirmed it—there was something hiding in the crawl space. I tried to get back up as quickly as possible, but of course, one of

my footsteps let out a freakish creaking sound, and just like out of a horror story, the man I had shot with an arrow from the previous night sprang out of the cupboard and lunged for me. We both hit the deck hard. The man reached for his pocket, probably for some sort of weapon. I swung as many punches at the man's wounded stomach as possible, and he tried to grab my arms, but I was able to push the guy off with my legs. The police must have heard everything that was going on, as I heard frantic

banging on the door and the shouts of, "Is everything okay?" But like a child, I screamed for help. I also sprinted for the knives I had dropped as I was tackled to the ground. Then I dashed to the front door, where I was met by the police—guns were drawn—and they entered my living room. The man was in no state to fight off four police officers as they brought him out of my house. I got a good look at the man. He was pale from blood loss, with short messy hair, but he had a very revealing

face tattoo that I didn't notice the previous night. As I, along with the police, checked the crawl space, they found the arrow I had shot at the man, as well as a box of bandages we kept in the kitchen. I was absolutely terrified because this man was hiding inside my house throughout the entire night, without me or the police knowing. His taller friend must not have been able to carry him out, so they probably decided to hide him in the crawl space. Why, I will never know, but what I do know is this man's intent.

When the police searched the man, they found a small Swiss army knife in his pocket, and that's what he was reaching for. This man wanted to kill me. The scariest part for me now is knowing that there is still someone out there with the same intent to kill me, and he knows the layout of my house. The scariest of all, he knows exactly where I sleep. I'm not going to let these fears drive me and my family out of this house, as I truly love this area, but I'd be lying if I said the possibility

wasn't brought up multiple times by my parents. I hope this story can show others to always be on high alert when staying home alone and never wear headphones at high volume. If it wasn't for the small pause in my music, I would have never seen them coming. So the story is mainly about two people, not including myself. One of them is my friend's mom, who was 16 at the time, and the other being my friend's mom's friend, who was similar in age. It was rumored around school that her friend was a prostitute. I don't know

how the rumor started, and I'm not actually sure it was even true, but every time anyone brought it up, he would get super angry and deny it. Anyway, he was the popular type of boy at the school, and he would always host parties. I would often go to them, and his mom was always wasted and hanging out, drinking with the kids. At the time, we all thought she was cool because she would buy us drinks, but that obviously wasn't the case. She was a single mom, so his dad was never around. On this particular night,

my parents wouldn't let me go because they said it was too late, but I was a dumb teenager, so I snuck out at like 3 A.M. and walked over there. He lived pretty close to me. When I got there, there weren't many people left, as it was already so late, but my best friend at the time was still there, and she was waiting for... Me and we were going to come back to my place together. His mom had three friends over, all in their 50s or so, and all men. Pretty soon after getting there, though,

there were only like four of us left: Jake's mom, one of the men, me, and of course my friend, while the rest had left. I wasn't drinking much because it was late; I had maybe three. That guy seemed to have taken a liking to me, and he offered me a shot, which I accepted. Not too long after that, I started to feel really drunk and out of it. At the time, I chalked it down to not eating much that day, but luckily he drugged me. This should have been a warning sign in itself that a

man wanted to hang around with a bunch of kids, but everyone was drunk, and I wasn't taking much notice of him. I'm pretty sure the adults were doing drugs too. Everything after this point, I don't remember much of. What my friend told me at some point was that the man thought it was funny to pour water all over me, and he was laughing. Then he started saying he wanted to touch my belly button while proceeding to try and lift up my shirt. Apparently, at some point, I pushed him away and I said something along the

lines of, "[ __ ] off, get away from me; my dad will beat you up, and he needs to double your size," which made him super offended. He was saying something like, "Uh, I thought she was supposed to be fun, and now she's ruining the party. How dare you say something like that?" Jake's mom was trying to get him to calm down. At this point, I was ready to go home, but I couldn't find my phone anywhere, and I really wanted to call my parents. My friend said that I was crying and saying how I

wanted my mommy, which is something I would never have been caught dead saying in front of people. At the time, so I can only imagine how scared I would have been. This is when the man said he was going to take me home in the back of his truck, and my friend's mom proceeded to yell, "Stop, stop! She's only 16!" Well, he tried to pick me up, and she was trying to fight him off. Thankfully, he eventually gave up, and he went home or to another room; I'm not exactly sure. We were too drunk to

walk to my house, and I didn't have my phone to call an Uber. I ended up sleeping over on the couch, and his mom was looking after me. I don't think anything happened to me while I was sleeping, but there's really no way of knowing for sure. My friend was with me the whole time, but she was sleeping too. It's safe to say I never went back to his house ever again after that, or even talked to him. Not that it was really his fault; his mom was so sketchy. Also, I'm from the UK, hence

the drinking so young for the Americans listening. It's super common here. I did tell my parents, yes, and my dad wanted to go over to Jake's, probably to yell at his mom, and wanted to get the man's info. I begged him not to because I was embarrassed for him to do that at the time, but looking back, I probably should have let him. My parents weren't really that angry at me for sneaking out, just super concerned, obviously, and they banned me from going back there. Not that it would have been a problem. I've experienced some

really weird things at Amazon while I've worked here for almost three years now, and to be honest, this story still takes the cake for one of the craziest experiences I've had there. This is my first ever job, and the fact that I'm still working here is honestly insane, as the things that I've seen here could have totally made me quit on the spot. Though the only reason why I still have this damn job is because it's an easy job, and I make good money for an eight-hour shift at this place. I both like it but

absolutely hate it as well—mostly hate. I don't know, but that's not really important to the story, so I'll get started. My name is Skyler; I'm a 22-year-old male, and this story happened around a year ago while working at an Amazon warehouse that is about the size of roughly two football fields. To give some background about this place, when people think of working at Amazon, some immediately think that I work as a driver, delivering packages to people's homes, or work the morning shift, where I have to set up the packages for said drivers to take later.

But no, actually, I work a completely different job that not many people have heard of. I am known as an RTS associate—RTS standing for Return to Sender. Basically, RTS takes care of the packages that didn't get delivered because of a dumb reason, like the store was closed or the customer didn't open their gates to let the driver in—just small stuff like that. As an associate, though, I do something a little bit different. I'm basically like a knocked-down version of a janitor too. We have to help prepare for the morning shift; we have to take tote

bags that are specifically made for our warehouse and place them on these shelves, which you can stuff the packages into. Then they get taken on these gray silver carts, which we can drag around. It sounds pretty easy, but when you have to put 1,500 bags into place by hand, it can get... Very tedious day after day if you've worked there for three years like me, and you want to start doing something else now. I'd like to know that the part of the warehouse I worked in was in the very back, so if I were wanting

to leave at the end of the day, I had to walk from one end of the warehouse to the other, and it was usually a two to three-minute walk, as I also had to do some turns here and there. I could just walk out the doors the trucks use to make it a faster walk, but we really weren't allowed to do that. Now that you know more about the warehouse I work in, let me explain everything that went down that night. I remember it being a Monday night. It was technically my Friday, so after tonight,

it was sweet freedom of staying up late and hanging out with some friends of mine. I was working with my co-worker Stephen; we'll just call him Steve, my manager, and his personal assistants, or PAs, as he likes to call them. It was a busy night that night, so we were on our feet at all times, making sure the place was cleaned up and taken care of. I happened to be taking a cart that was filled to the brim with tote bags, and I was setting it up in between the aisles where we set the other

carts up when I heard the huge door open. It was just another driver, like usual, doing his drop-off. I was walking back over to the launch pad, talking to Steve, when I heard the door starting to close, but almost immediately after being shot open. We both looked over and saw this woman at the machine that lets you keep the automatic door open until you push the button again to close it. I yelled out to her, asking if she could close the doors. We weren't really supposed to keep them open, but she yelled back, saying that

she had to leave and didn't want to use the emergency exit. Note that one of the emergency exit doors has a broken alarm, so we just use it as a regular door sometimes so you can go in and out easier. I'd use it to walk to my car sometimes, but it's on the wrong side of the building, so I just take the normal route usually. Anyways, the lady left the door open and walked out. I was gonna go close it, but Steve stopped me. "It's fine, man, just leave it alone," he said. "We'll have to

close the doors later anyways, and they might as well just leave them open." "Yeah, I know," but yeah, I know your OCD is kicking in. "It's fine, man," he said. He laughed it off while he walked away, and I ended up just listening to Steve, and I walked away with him, continuing our conversation about whatever anime it was that we were watching at the time. But for some reason, I just didn't feel right about leaving it open. Even my gut feeling wide open was just having me on edge. So, some time passed later; I want

to say maybe half an hour. It was only an hour away until my shift ended at 9 PM. I was in the middle of the launch pad, leaning on one of the carts, checking my phone. I was changing one of my songs when I noticed out of the corner of my eye someone walking in the middle of the second launch pad. I thought it was one of the drivers coming inside to check in with his DSP, which was basically their manager, but when I did a double take, I noticed this person wasn't wearing a driver's

vest like they should have been. After taking a better look at him, it didn't look like anyone I recognized at all that was supposed to be in the building. I'd been working at this warehouse for two years now, and I knew the faces around here pretty well. I even would have known about any new driver's face because I would have had to see them come into the building hours beforehand, helping them learn about how to talk to their DSP, and that also meant that they would have to check in with us personally. So whoever this

guy was, I hadn't had a clue. I kind of regretted what I did next, but not having any security in this building, no one was stopping this random civilian from walking inside. The bad thing about having these doors open is that they're basically open to the public; anyone could have just walked in, but they're not supposed to. So even though I didn't have to approach this guy, I did anyways because I was going to tell him to leave. I ended up walking towards the man, and I started to notice more things about him. He looked

really young, almost my age actually, had blonde hair that stuck up as if he overused some hair gel, and he had a backpack on, a button-up T-shirt with khakis, and some black shoes. Honestly, he looked like some sort of college student, but there weren't any colleges nearby this warehouse, let alone any schools in this area, so it just seemed a bit off. As we got closer to him, we made eye contact, and he immediately shot his head down as he was trying to not make eye contact anymore. That's when I said, "Um, excuse me, sir,

are you a driver here?" He didn't answer me. I stopped where I was standing, but he kept walking towards me. "Sir, if you don't work in this warehouse, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," but he didn't say anything again. He just kept his eyes glued to the ground and kept... Walking, I just said one last thing to him: "Sir, is everything all right?" He walked past me at that moment and never answered me, but I heard him say something under his breath. I wasn't completely sure what it was, but it was something like,

"I don't care, shut up." Like I said, I'm not exactly sure, but I remember hearing the word "shut up" in his sentence. I decided to walk away, and I pulled out the radio I had on me at all times, telling everyone that there was some random dude in the warehouse who wouldn't answer me or leave. I included that there was something about him that didn't sit right with me; I didn't feel safe being around this guy. My manager immediately radioed back and took control of the situation. He went up to the guy, introduced himself, and

started talking with him. Our manager told us to go back to what we were doing, but honestly, I couldn't focus. I just kept watching him. Steve soon ended up walking over to me, asking if I knew anything about this guy. I didn't, so that's what I told him. I said that he didn't answer me, let alone even look at me, but he was talking to my manager like he was nothing. He caught me off guard, so maybe he wanted to talk to the manager and knew who I was. A few minutes later, my manager radioed

us, asking if I could meet him in the front of the building. I was with Steve in the past at the time, so I was telling them about what happened, and I went off on my own, walking up there. I put away my earbuds and started thinking to myself what the hell my manager was talking about with him. I still didn't feel right about this guy, so when I walked through the double doors of the cafeteria to find my manager sitting with this guy, I really felt like something was off. The stranger was sitting in

one of the chairs, but his backpack was on his lap now, and one of his hands was inside the bag while the other was holding the bag close, as if he were hiding something. This immediately set off some red flags in my head. I decided to stay back behind my manager while he talked to me. My manager told me to sit with him for a few minutes while he took a phone call, as he just wanted to make sure that he didn't go anywhere. But I really didn't want to; I did not want to be

there with him, and it definitely was not part of my job to babysit. Yet here I was, sitting a few chairs away from this guy, who kept a cold, hard stare at me while my manager started walking off with his phone in his hand. I didn't know at the time, but he was calling the police. It felt like a sacrifice having to sit there just a few feet away from him. It didn't make me any more comfortable. It was my Friday, and I just wanted to go home at this point. But while I was thinking

about that, I heard him start to say something. It was really quiet at first, but he spoke up when I didn't answer him. "Apparently, I know you're just here to distract me, Kevin." "Uh, I'm sorry, what?" I said. My name was not Kevin, and I didn't know where he came up with this. That my name was Kevin caught me so off guard. Our badges are kept in these clear front pockets on our vests, so he could see my name if he just looked. But I decided to cover it with my hand just for my own

safety. That's when he said, "It's not going to work. I know this place doesn't have security." I could clearly see it when I was with Sam, which was my manager. "No, we do have security; he's just on break right now, smoking outside," I said, but that was a complete lie. We really didn't have security here, but I didn't want him to feel like he could just do anything. Everything that came out of this guy's mouth was just worse than the last. "Listen, Kevin, I don't have much time to be here right now, so listen closely."

"My name is not Kevin, sir. Why do you keep saying that?" "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Kevin." He just continued to call me Kevin, which was very off-putting. What was he trying to get out of me by saying a name? Was he trying to scare me or something? I had no idea. "I'll be back again," he said. "I'll get my chance next time; you'll see. I'll remember you, Kevin." It felt like I was in a freaking horror movie at this point, and I felt like he was some villain. I was not in the mood to

listen to the rest of his evil little plot. I immediately stood up and walked out of the room, wanting to get the hell away from this guy. I went through the double doors, and I could see my manager, so I started to walk towards him as he was walking towards me at the same time. I told him I wasn't going to sit in that room any longer with this freakish guy, as he was scaring me, and I wanted to go home early. You could tell I was scared by the way my voice sounded. I think

I honestly was a little shaky after hearing something like that. I mean, who wouldn't be after hearing "I'll get my chance next time"? Like, what the hell does that even mean? He understood how I felt, and he let me go. Early, but not before I told him what the guy had said to me, my manager had an even more worried look on his face. After that, you walked back inside while I walked over to the back of the warehouse to grab my backpack. I was walking over to everyone when Steve asked me what happened. I

explained to him in the past what happened and what that guy had told me, and all three of them said the same thing: "What the [ __ ]?" Yeah, I would like to know what the hell he meant by all that too, but I told him I was leaving early. It bothered me because I had to walk all the way back to the front and clock out on the machine. As I walked back up, I could see bright, flashing lights outside—blue and red, to be specific. Seems like the police were here; I suspected that was

who my manager was calling when he was gone earlier. But all I could think about was just leaving for the night. I clocked out, walked out one of the side doors that led to the outside, and walked towards my car. I could see the police cars in the front of the building along with my manager, a policeman, and the guy. I could see that he was in cuffs; something serious was happening right now, but I didn't want any part of it. I just wanted to go home and relax. It would have been nice if it

just ended there, but there's a bit more. After I drove home, I felt a lot safer in the comfort of my own room. I was laying in my bed on my phone, not really doing much but mostly scrolling through Twitter. After finally calming down a bit and feeling better, I decided to text my manager since I had his number, and I asked him what happened to the guy. My manager took a few minutes to reply as he was probably busy, but honestly, it was for the better that I didn't get his message that night. Because

by the morning, I woke up to a few mistakes from him. No, my texts were overlapping with each other on my phone, so I knew there were multiple. It was what I didn't see at first. After opening a text, I was reading through them, and I felt my heart sink and I could feel a shiver go up my spine. My manager explained that at first, when the stranger entered, he exclaimed that he was looking for a job. So my manager was showing him around and letting him look at the place, which sounds really bad after

what that man told me last night. But after letting him sit in the cafeteria, that was when he decided to call the police. That was why he wanted me to sit in the room with him, so he could make sure that this guy wasn't going to leave and get away. After getting off the phone, he walked back over, and that's when I was asking to leave after not feeling all right. My manager, just like me, also just felt off about this guy. He didn't trust the dude, as there was something off about him. He really

couldn't put his finger on it, but he mentioned that the way he spoke and the way he behaved just wasn't sitting right, so that's why he called the police. After he walked outside with him, my manager talked with the police and the policeman took his bag from him. He was a little resistant at first, but once they took the bag, they found something horrifying: he had a hunter's knife in it that was used for killing animals. The whole time, this guy, this random mascot, was just carrying a knife in his backpack. He was probably even

holding it in his hand in the cafeteria at the time that he was talking to me. Self-protection or not, why the hell did this guy have a knife walking to a warehouse, acting suspicious and just having the weirdest conversation with me? Of course, I aimlessly just walked up to him the first time like it was nothing. If I had talked to him even more, who knows what would have happened to me? I'm just happy that nothing did happen to me that night, but I still can't forget what he said to me. This took place in

the month of February of 1988 when I was just eight years old. I'm now approaching my mid-40s, and I still have massive anxiety when I think back to that night. For context, I'm a male, and I've always been the shortest person in my class with a smaller body frame. I was living with my mom, my stepdad, and an older sister because my parents were extremely poor. We found ourselves moving around quite a bit. At the time, the story took place, we were renting a rundown duplex in Utah. I'm fairly confident this took place on a

Wednesday evening, as that was the weekday my family would gather around the television to watch “America's Most Wanted.” After the TV show had ended around 9 PM, we said goodnight and headed off to our own bedrooms. It was a school night, so I often went to bed around nine. Our duplex had three bedrooms: two on the main floor and one in the basement. My room was on the main floor, down the hall from the living room, while my mom and stepdad's bedroom was adjacent to mine at the end of the hallway. My older sister had

her room in the basement. At that age, I was fearful of the dark, so I often slept with the light on. We also had a false sense of security living in a small Utah town, so we never locked our... Front door. However, my mom and her husband always had a lock on their bedroom door, and they made sure to lock it every night so we kids wouldn't come in unexpectedly. I remember drifting off to sleep shortly after laying down. It must have been around 1 a.m. when I was abruptly awakened from a peculiar noise in

my room. As I sat up in my bed, responding to the noise, I was horrified to see two grown men, sporting biker beards and easily towering six feet tall, standing in my bedroom door. Again, I was able to see every detail of these creepy men because my light had been left on. The men standing in the doorway were blocking me in my room, so I couldn't run past them. They both had the most evil stare directly into my eyes that I've ever seen. I was absolutely petrified. I didn't know why I did this, but in

a moment of complete shock, I jumped up from my bed and onto my feet. But only then did it dawn on me that my little body was not going to be able to get past them. My parents' room was directly towards their backs, and my first instinct was to run to my parents' room. Looking back now, I realized it would have done no good since they slept securely and comfortably behind their locked door while this was all taking place. Once my body's motions caught up to my thought process, I instead ran to the corner of

my room and crouched down. All the while, the three of us were awkwardly staring at each other. I tried to let out a scream to call for my parents, but this would be the only time in my life where I was paralyzed with fear. My vain attempts to scream mounted in silent desperation. I didn't know what these people wanted, and I could only imagine the worst. One of the men pushed his index finger to his lips in order to signal to me to remain quiet. As I trembled with fear, the second man reached into his

pocket and pulled out a six-inch blade. At least my room was fairly small, and they were both standing within four feet of me. He made sure to swivel the knife in the air to make a point that he was not afraid to gut me like a fish. I nearly pissed my pajamas. Another attempt to scream yielded nothing. Shortly after, they closed my bedroom door on me, and I was left alone. Instinctively, I thought they were robbing our house, but now that they were exposed and threatening me, I was hoping they would leave. But I was

wrong. I waited a few minutes. Should I open the door and try to pound on my parents' bedroom, or were they waiting for me behind that closed door? Who knows? But after a few minutes, I summoned a little courage I could and decided to crawl back into my bed. I placed the sheet over my entire body and waited it out. Were they planning on killing my family? I asked myself. Did they leave yet? What do they want? My anxiety grew as the thoughts continued to race through my mind. As I lay there, intently listening for

any sounds, I could hear them moving about the house and opening and closing various kitchen drawers. The walls were paper-thin in that cheap duplex, so every move was easily heard. Next, I heard them make their way down the stairs to the basement where my sister was sleeping. Now, as I listened to every frightening sound, I hoped with all my might that my stepdad would wake up. He was a fairly large man, and these creeps weren't exactly super quiet. This went on for nearly an hour. I was lying petrified in bed, listening to their every move.

To my horror, my entire family was sleeping through the entire ordeal. After some time, I heard the front door shut, and the early winter sun was rising. My stepdad worked in a factory and usually woke up at 5 a.m. I couldn't wait to hear my parents unlock their bedroom door. As soon as I heard their alarm, I left my room. I was hysterical while trying to explain what just happened. Next, my sister woke up, and I desperately wanted her to tell me about her night by herself in the basement. My parents tried their best to

calm me down, and tears were running down my face. I had been traumatized. To my disbelief, my parents chalked it up to having a bad dream. In fact, I was told this was not possible because if anything like that had ever happened, surely they would have woken up. My sister saw the desperation in my eyes, and she knew this was serious. She and I went through our entire house to look for items that might have been stolen. We came across her dresser drawers left half open and many personal items out of place. This was enough

evidence for her to become just as frightened because nothing was missing from our house. My parents didn't bother calling the police; I was made to go to school as though nothing ever happened. Fast forward a couple of weeks: we were watching TV when an update came on about a criminal being captured who was featured on Most Wanted. My heart sank when I recognized the mugshot on TV as one of the men in my room. Of course, disclosing this to my parents only made them believe me less. To this day, I still hold some resentment towards

my parents. While they slept peacefully behind a locked bedroom door, I was being tortured. Needless to say, I never slept without locking my door when I was a kid. No older than 10, I was walking to the mailbox. To get the mail from my parents, I was fully dressed in my baseball uniform, ready to go to practice. A car pulled over; an elderly woman urged me to get into her car, like, immediately. I knew something was off. "Come on, we're going to be late," she insisted. She went on to say things like "My bat and

glove are in the trunk," telling me that my dad had given it to them. She said my dad couldn't take me anymore, so he asked them to take me, and that they lived nearby. I honestly don't remember what I did right away; I just remember the anxiety of piecing together what was happening. I would like to say I booked it and ran to the house for help, but as I've gotten older, I don't even remember anymore. All I remember is being back at the house, and the creepy old lady ended up ringing the doorbell. My

dad answered the door; he was obviously confused, and she told him that they were testing me to see if I would jump in the car. The most unsettling thing to me is I don't remember if I actually got into their car. I'm not particularly old, but the experience pumped so much adrenaline into me that I don't remember it well. When I try to remember, I can picture both outcomes: me running home and me getting in their car. I don't remember getting a scolding, so I tend to assume the former occurred, but I'm still not sure.

Testing children or not, that's kind of a messed-up thing to do in your free time. It makes me wonder if this couple actually had the intentions they spoke of. I remember getting home and not saying a word to my parents. The shock was still fresh, and I had no time to process what just happened. Was ringing the doorbell afterward some kind of cover-up for a failed attempt to avoid being reported to the police? Has anyone ever encountered something similar? I just find the whole situation extremely off-putting. You don't really find too many kids walking around

alone in baseball uniforms, and coming up with that stuff on the fly gives me the impression that it was not that lady's first time trying to coax a kid into her car. This happened when I was 17; I was still in my senior year of high school. Now, this is probably not as creepy as some of the stories on here, but I just wanted to share my experience. My boyfriend at the time texted me, saying he had been hanging out at his friend's house, who lives pretty close to me, and asked if I wanted to

hang out with him for a little bit. So I agreed. He picked me up around 8 PM, and we drove a couple of miles away from my house to a mobile home park. He parked in front of a pretty large-sized mobile home. I felt a little uneasy because this mobile home park wasn't in the safest neighborhood. The place itself looked a little run-down, just like the rest of the homes here. We entered through the right side door of the small stairs in the carport. Directly in front of you when you first walk in, there's a

kitchen and a dining room. If you look towards the left, there's a living room located in front of the home; if you look towards the right, there are doors to the bedrooms and bathroom. This was probably the biggest mobile home I've been in. It was a little messy, and there was a sink full of dishes and a kitchen table piled up with junk and beer bottles everywhere. The living room had a coffee table full of weed pipes, bongs, and pill bottles. Just a bit of backstory: my boyfriend at the time had a bit of a

drug problem that later on became worse. Before you judge me, I wasn't aware of the severity at the time; I thought he occasionally partied and had experimented, which is sadly really common in the small town I grew up in. Little did I know, he was doing a lot more than I knew of behind my back. This problem he had led to me meeting a lot of his friends who were also in the same, let's say, things as him. I was introduced to his friend, who was sitting on the living room couch. I don't even remember

his name, but I'm going to call him Jake. Jake seemed all right; he was pretty friendly. He was also about our age. I quickly learned he lived with his aunt and uncle, who I was also introduced to. His aunt wasn't very social at all and was in the kitchen; at some point, she left to go to one of the bedrooms and closed the door. There was something strange about Jake's uncle; something seemed off to me, but he was really friendly, so I brushed it off. He was probably in his mid-50s then, kind of tall, maybe

like 5'10" ish, and he had blondish-gray hair that was receding. Jake's uncle started packing a bowl for everyone. I'm not sure if I’m allowed to stay here, but he sprinkled a little white substance on top. I sat down on the couch while they all passed the piece around; I obviously declined. Weed was still legal at this time, and I've never been a social smoker. I remember his uncle asking why I wasn't smoking, and I just told him I didn't want to. I really forgot how this park got brought up, but Jake's uncle overheard my boyfriend

and me talking about cats. He looked over at me and said, "Oh, you like cats? Want to see mine?" Being the cat lover that I am, I kind of got excited. and said, "Oh, you have a cat?" He was like, "Yeah, you want to see her?" I was assuming he was going to bring her out, so I said, "Sure." Then he got up to lead me down the hall, motioning me to follow, saying, "Come on, this way." I looked at my boyfriend, kind of puzzled, and asked if he wanted to come with me, but I

guess he didn't feel like getting up. I really didn't want to come off as being rude if I didn't follow, so I got up and followed him down the hall to the very last door located at the end of the hallway. He opened the door for me, and I walked inside the bedroom. I noticed a shotgun next to the bed, leaning against the wall. I got the vibe that this was possibly Jake's uncle's room. Jake seemed to be too young to own a gun, and this room didn't look like his style; it looked like a

guest bedroom or a room for someone older. I wondered why his aunt went inside the other room. I'm not so sure what was going on in their personal life; maybe they slept in separate beds. It definitely could have been a possibility. Anyways, to the right of the bed was a beautiful white, long-haired cat on her scratching post inside the room. I went over to say hi to Peter, and that's when Jake's uncle walked in and heard the door quietly close behind him, almost as if he wanted to be discreet with what he was doing. I

jumped up, and I looked over at the door and then to him. I think he must have noticed how scared I looked because that's when he said, "Oh, this is just so the cat won't get out." He then came and kneeled down next to me, and he started petting the cat. My gut feeling told me something wasn't right, and I felt sick to my stomach. I went back towards the door, and he yelled out, "No, the cat's going to get out! Wait!" But I didn't care; I just ignored him and that's when I realized it

was actually locked and not just closed. I immediately unlocked it and swung it open. The cat did run out, so he wasn't making that up, but regardless, I just met this man, so why did he lock a 17-year-old girl alone in this room with him? Why couldn't he ask my boyfriend to come with us too? This room is located on the far end, opposite side of the living room, where no one would hear us. I went back to the living room so fast, and I asked my boyfriend if he could take me home, which I

would never do considering he wasn't sober, but I was desperate. He was pretty hesitant and he asked, "Right now?" I lied and I told him that my dad wanted me home right now, pretending to look at a text on my phone. When we were alone, I was so relieved to be out of there. In the car, I told him how Jake's uncle closed us in that room together, and I felt really uncomfortable. He told me that I was overthinking the situation, that his uncle was a good person, so I always thought that maybe I was

overthinking it, but it never changed how uncomfortable I felt about it. Please just always trust your gut feeling regardless of what anyone says about it. I never saw Jake or his uncle again, and I never wanted to go back there. Over 10 years later, I still get creeped out when I think about it. This took place in 2019. One night, coming home from a friend's party, it was me, my girlfriend, my brother, his girlfriend, and her friend. We had an extra seat, and she was staying with us. We were making our way home and we

decided to take a road that would cut our travel time down. Everything was cool until my brother wanted to stop at the gas station to get gas and get food. We arrived at the gas station, and he decided to go in and get some food while I stayed with the girls. Everything was going normal until this big black 18-wheeler semi-truck pulled into the station. I thought nothing of it, and I wasn't paying much attention to him until he got out of the truck and stared at us. When I say staring, I mean staring like he

was looking into our souls. I was worried, and my brother was still in the store; he couldn't see his face as he had a hoodie covering his entire face. I was very skeptical, and so were the girls. He was being very suspicious—like going behind the trailer, peeking his head around, and even walked to the other side of our car and just stood there. We locked the doors, and I immediately called my brother, who, thankfully, came back out. My brother had food, and he got into the car, and we immediately sped off heading towards the highway.

There was this long stretch of road before getting back on the main highway. We were talking about the truck and how weird he was acting. After a little time went by, that same truck followed us, but he passed us at like a fast speed, nearly taking us off the road. I couldn't make anything out or see the license plate because it had a white trailer with no company labels, and it was really dark. Long story short, we got back to our house and parked our car in the garage. Now that we were all settling down

and chilling in the living room, we saw bright lights outside of our house, and sure enough, it was that same truck. "Truck just passing through; it was scary because trucks never pass on a road. We were pretty scared that he had followed us. Let me turn the lights off, and we waited for the whole night to see if he'd return. But he never returned, and we never saw him again. It was truly one of the creepiest experiences that I've ever been through. None of us knew what to make of it at all. I'm a 23-year-old

woman, and it takes me about four and a half hours to drive home when visiting my family. When I have two hours left, my gas tank is around half full, so I like to stop to get gas at the rest stop. This time, I really had to use the restroom, and so I just wanted to quickly pull into the first pump that I saw available, pump gas, go to the restroom, and be on my way. When I pulled up, there was a car at the pump in front of me, and the man was getting gas.

Now he was staring at me when I pulled up behind him, which I never gave a second thought to because I find it to be pretty common; sometimes I do the same thing when a car pulls up behind me. But here's the thing: as I was doing my thing—putting my card in, opening the gas cap, etc.—I noticed that he was still staring at me through my peripheral vision. When I looked over, he would look away. When I get gas, my parents always told me to be aware of my surroundings. As I pump, I do a

routine of looking to my left, right, in front, and then behind. This man was still watching me, so at this point, I'm just staring back at him. His, who I assume to be, son gets out of the car, says something to him in his ear, and switches places with him. Now this man is walking towards me but jerks his body to the passenger side of my car and gets close to looking as he walks by. Great, he's trying to rob me now. Well, good luck because my door is locked. He was walking around my car

pretty closely while staring at me, paused for a second, and then he quickly goes inside the convenience store. I will say I did look like he wanted to say something, but I was more focused on finishing up at the pump so I could do my thing inside and quickly leave. I have my pet with me on the passenger side in this carrier, so when I grabbed him, I noticed a pump attendant, which is never common, standing at the trash can across from me. I told him, 'Hey, I'm just heading inside for a second, but I'll

be right back out.' He smiled and told me not to worry. Now you're probably wondering, why didn’t you go somewhere else? One, I purposely grabbed the attention of the pump attendant to show I was traveling alone as a female. Two, I really had to use the restroom, okay? So please cut me some slack if you think I'm going to let some guy prevent me from tending to my needs. Three, in all seriousness, I'm a woman, and I'm used to men staring at me and being creepy around me, so I figured I could handle it. When

I got into the store, I noticed him heading to the men's room. I purposely waited a little longer so I wouldn't run into him. I grabbed a drink after that from the cooler, and this man came right up against me to get a drink as well, quickly turned, and walked away. I thought he was gone, but I realized he was waiting for me. I dodged him a few more times inside, and he finally left. I paid and walked out after the man was already in his car. But when I walked to my car door, my

heart sank; my paper was slipped in the handle, and my mind went straight to trafficking because I remembered a girl with a similar story of how she found a paper in her handle, and it made her sick when she removed it. I thought, damn, I finally reached this point for me. My first thought was to immediately go inside to grab an attendant. Why didn’t I quickly get in the car and drive off? Because the man's car was still parked in front of mine. I didn't want him following me and possibly forcing me into something like

an accident, causing me to be alone with him, since the highway was pretty empty today. Until we waited for the police to show up, I noticed the pump attendant who was standing on the other side was now at the trash can next to my car. He handed me some napkins, and I took the paper off my door handle. The man and his son then drove off as I went to throw it away, but I noticed that he wrote his name, phone number, and car type on the paper. In those few seconds, I thought I was

about to be trafficked; instead, I found out that the man was just too shy to give me his phone number. Many years ago, I used to work the night shift at a hotel in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. During the season, it wasn't so bad, mostly families and stuff. We had on-site security then too. However, in the off-season, the winter months were different. The cheap weekly rates we’d offered attracted a lot of creepy people. The idea was supposed to be able to make money in the off-season by renting to what is known as snowbirds—older retired people

who came to the beach for a month or more." Through the winter, it didn't always work out that way, though the cheap rates made it possible for a less-than-desirable person to become long-term residents. I've discovered more than my fair share of math labs, broken-up physical assaults, and more during the winter months. Working third shift, I would meet some interesting people. Cold weather would mean some homeless people would come in to get warm and grab a cup of free coffee. I wasn't supposed to let them, but it's not in me to be cruel; I'll let them

grab a cup of coffee and get warm for a minute, as long as they didn't cause trouble. As you can see, the night shift in the winter made for some crazy and sometimes creepy stories. I have a lot, but this is the one that stands out because it didn't end well for me. I had a great night up until this point. I went to an indie wrestling show with my best friend before work. In fact, I had agreed to come in an hour early the next night for the young lady that worked second shift in

exchange for her to work an hour late for me on this night, so that way I could enjoy the wrestling show. Ironically enough, I actually got to meet Terry Funk that night, a wrestling legend known for his hardcore and bloody matches. Little did I know I was about to experience this kind of violence for real. I was supposed to be there at midnight. Due to her working over an hour for me, I normally came in at 11 PM. I counted the register, and she briefed me on her shift as to what happened, as per usual.

As she was leaving, my friend—we'll call him Andrew—pulled up. He works second shift maintenance at this hotel and the other two hotels our company owns. He would regularly stop by after work to grab us some food, and we would play World of Warcraft on our laptops after eating for a while, since business was so slow. Sometimes he was just getting my money, and he ordered my food while we were getting ready to leave. I was excited, telling him about how much fun I had at the wrestling show and showing him my Terry Funk t-shirt that

I was proud of. I was just walking back into the office to put the shirt up when I heard the doorbell indicating a customer had entered. I turned around when I heard someone say something loudly, but I still couldn't make out what they had said. I just reached the doorway when I saw Andrew fall down in front of me. The very next thing I know, a guy walks around the corner and punches me in the head with a short steel pipe in his hand. It staggered me, and I went down to one knee. The next

thing I know, he hit me in the head with this pipe, and the next thing I know after that, I hear the other guy, who I hadn't noticed at this moment, say to run. Then those men bolted out the door. I was finally able to get to my feet and tried to call the police from the phone in my back office, but it was having issues. I slammed it in frustration. I was hurting and very scared. I was really freaking out; I realized that they could come back, so I ran and locked the door. I

didn't know where Andrew had gone, and that worried me. I called 9-1-1 about this time, and blood had started pouring down my head. I told the operator I had been attacked and that I needed an officer and an ambulance. I then called the other hotel we ran to let the night manager, named Travis, know what happened. He thought I was messing with him at first because when we got bored, we would prank each other. I finally convinced him I wasn't joking; he was going to lock up and come down to get me. The cops and

ambulance pulled up, and I opened the door for them. At this time, I found out that they had sucker-punched Andrew and knocked him down, but Andrew was able to amazingly jump over the desk and escape just as a cop was driving by, which he ran to flag down for help. I ended up in the hospital ER, where I had to have ten staples in my scalp, and they gave me morphine for pain. I also had no way to get home after being treated, but the doctor and nurses took pity on me and paid for a

cab. My plan was to go back to work ASAP because this was December, and Christmas was coming. I had three kids, and I needed all the hours I could get. When I got back to the hotel, this guy Ted was there with his wife, who also worked at the front desk. She was shocked to see me; she thought I would still be in the hospital. She thought I had only been hit in the head once after being punched. The video, which Ted was pulling for the police, showed a different story, though. After I went to

one knee, the guy had hit me not just one time, but ten times total. I kept trying to grab the pipe and get up, but for some reason, I do not remember that; I guess I had some kind of memory loss. He kept punching me and hitting me with this pipe until his friend told him that Andrew got away and they knew the cops were coming. Two of them then ran out. I was given a room at the other hotel we owned, and Ted and Barbara gave me a lift there as I was... In no

condition to drive due to the morphine, they also gave me a paid week off to heal. They switched me over to the other hotel on my shift for a month, just in case they were after me in particular. We never found out why they chose to attack me. The police thought it might be a failed armed robbery due to Andrew getting away and the man not killing me, but it really shook me up to not know. Even though I was at our other hotel when I came back to work the night shift, I was still

very nervous. Every time the door chimed, I tensed up. I couldn't afford to quit, though, as I said I have three kids I was supporting, and they were never caught as far as I know. A detective stopped by about two months later when I was working second shift. He showed me several mug shots and asked me if any of them looked familiar. I never got a great look at them, as it all happened so fast. I had seen the video, which wasn't the best quality; even so, two of them looked very similar to them. I

pointed them out, and he asked me how sure I was. I told him that I was only like 85% sure. He then yelled at me and asked me if I wanted someone to go to jail for attempted murder on 85%. I was stunned into silence because I was the victim; I was attacked for no reason, and here he was yelling at me like it was my fault. I was too busy being attacked to get a good look at them. I no longer work at that hotel or night shift, and I am glad because it's just

too dangerous in that area. Recently, I moved out of my apartment; I simply had to because I didn't feel safe with my landlords. I lived in this really nice apartment in Brooklyn for a few months with my roommate, who paid for most of our rent since her parents are super rich. Our landlords were actually the seemingly really nice, sweet couple who lived a few floors above with their kids. The first few weeks were somewhat normal, except for the fact that every time I saw their kids in the elevator, they would scream at me before they

got off and then just ran away. I thought it was funny and cute at first, but then their eldest son came to visit and started doing the same thing. He looked about my age, and I didn't really think much of it since maybe he was just playing with his younger siblings. But it got really weird when I bumped into all of them together and we talked for a bit. Out of nowhere, while we were having a pleasant conversation, the dad apologized to me, saying that his son might act strange because he's, uh, you know, a

[__]. I was pretty shocked with him just saying that out of the blue. I paused for a bit, and I can't really remember what I said, but I remember just wanting to get the hell out of this conversation. Now, a few days later, I bumped into the dad again in the elevator. I was pretty standoffish, and he was just talking about how great my apartment is and how much of a generous guy he is for giving it to us for such a low rate. Then he asked if I could babysit his kids as he and

his wife and his eldest son would be at dinner. I said no at first, but he counter-offered by saying he'd pay $150 an hour. Being the greedy idiot that I am, I agreed, and this is where I [__] up. When I got to his place, I was speechless; his apartment wraps around the entire first floor of the building. It was the nicest apartment I will ever see, that's for sure. About an hour in, everything was normal. I was playing some fighting game with his kids when we suddenly heard the front door slam. I told them

to stay there as I peeked to see what was going on, and I saw the dad falling all over the place, clearly drunk. He started walking toward me, and at the last minute, he fell face-first onto his couch. I must have popped a blood vessel trying to hold in my laughter. I asked if he was okay, and I walked over to assist him. He then turned around, looked at me, and said, "My wife will let us." When I tried asking him what he meant, his wife walked up to me, thanked me, paid me, and told

me to come back another time. I just kind of went back to my apartment in shock, wondering what the [__] just happened, and I definitely wasn't going back. I told my roommate, and she told me that she also bumped into the dad, and he told her that "my wife is cool, just so you know," with no explanation, and just left. At this point, we knew that we sure as hell were not renewing our lease. We didn't see our landlords until our final month, kind of joking to our friends about how our landlords were creepy cooks.

The next time I saw them, I was actually with my boyfriend, who was well aware of what they were trying to do. It was an intensely awkward elevator ride; when they saw us there, they just went quiet and smiled and nodded at us repeatedly. As we stepped out of the elevator, the dad shouted, "Hey!" to us and winked at me as the doors closed. After that, I asked my boyfriend to stay with us for the remainder of our lease because at this point, my roommate and I were freaked. The [ __ ] out. Our final

and creepiest encounter was a few days before moving out. My roommate walked the apartment, and both the landlords were sitting in front of the elevators. They were just waiting for us. He said they started sobbing when they saw her, and they begged us to stay. They apparently apologized for making us uncomfortable and said that they thought we were the pretty young girls they were waiting for. She didn't say a word to them and got on the elevator, then called me to warn me they were outside, and then they started to knock. My boyfriend answered the

door, and when the guy saw him, he asked if I was there. Of course, my boyfriend said no, but they tried walking in anyway. I walked out of my room, saying that I'll call the police if they don't leave, and they begged me not to. They ran out of the apartment. Just a few days ago, we got a text from a random number saying that we could live there six months for free if we just gave them a few nights. Of course, I blocked and deleted them. The whole thing was such an uncomfortable experience living

there all those months, especially knowing they had keys to our apartment. My girlfriend's mother is a longtime heroin user and has been out of jail for my girlfriend's whole life. When she lived with her mother and her mother's husband, she witnessed physical abuse and drug activity. She was forced to move out at a very young age in order to stay alive. She thought her mother was finally clean when her mother announced her pregnancy. After getting over the initial shock, my girlfriend decided to be supportive of her mother, and she thought she was clean. I was

going to tell her mother overdosed while pregnant. She decided to cut all contact at that point. My girlfriend is also a mandated reporter and last year reported her mother and her mother's husband to the state, and she knew it wasn't a safe situation for the baby. The baby actually died in their house not even a month after birth due to an overdose, with signs of physical abuse. My girlfriend's mother was arrested for the murder of her baby and other charges. Her husband was arrested for child endangerment and other charges. At first, a judge did not

grant either of them bail; eventually, her husband was granted bail, which he posted. We did not know this until recently, which helped us put some of the pieces together. My girlfriend and I like to sit outside her house in the car and just chat or listen to music. Recently, there have been black cars around my girlfriend's house. She also was frequently followed by black cars when she drives me home; it's the same couple of black cars that do this. They're not just random ones. At first, we thought we were just paranoid since everyone was still

in jail, but when we found out that the husband was out of jail, we began to doubt our sanity. The first major thing happened after my girlfriend and I went on a dinner date. We got home after dark, and we sat in her car for about 45 minutes before we noticed the same black car passing by us every few minutes. After 10 minutes of that, a different car drove towards us, flicking his high beams on. When it got close enough for us to see who was inside, they swerved into the oncoming lane, and I genuinely

thought it was going to hit the passenger side of the car. He sped away, and we ran inside. After that, we started noticing the black cars more and more. This past Wednesday morning, around 3 A.M. ish, the same distinct black van that we had been seeing pulled up outside of my house. This was weird because my girlfriend and I live about 30 minutes from each other in two separate cities. A man got out of the van and tried to flashlight through my yard, scanning it. He almost shined the flashlight up at the window I was

sitting at; he kept it there for a second and then walked 30 feet to an empty driveway, scanning around there for 20 seconds before getting in the van and peeling away. The windows were ice-covered and frozen, so I couldn't make out the specifics of the van, but it was very strange. A few nights later, my girlfriend and I spent some time hanging out in her car when we spotted a black van hiding behind another parked car further up the street. We could only see one headlight, but it created vibes. As we sat in the car,

my girlfriend lives between two dead-end streets, so think of a very blocky shape; she lives right in the middle. The van went up the first dead end four ways on and sat for a few minutes before turning around and driving almost into the other lane of traffic to get close to us. It then went up the other dead end and stayed put. We thought it was weird that the van didn't just back out of the first dead end, instead opting to drive all the way up the narrow street and turn around. After a few minutes,

we called a friend and recounted the story just to get an extra opinion. While my girlfriend was talking to our friend, I got out of the car to get a cigarette to see how far away the van was. I walked up the dead end that the van was on for about 15 feet before getting the worst gut feeling I've ever gotten. Across the street from me was a black mass, which was darker than the darkness around it. I decided to just turn around and rush. My girlfriend and I were in the house later that night

when we heard a bang coming from downstairs, followed by what sounded like a boot on wooden stairs. We locked the bedroom door, and I sat against the door with a baseball bat, attempting to make a barricade. A few minutes later, we heard a car door slam, followed by the sound of tires squealing as a car drove away. Our initial idea was that maybe the sound had come from the TV, but we had paused it; the TV in the next room was never loud enough to feel real. When I went downstairs an hour later to get

water, there was nothing damaged or missing. We theorized that maybe it was the sound of the front door trying to be opened, even though it was deadbolted. My girlfriend's exterior wall doesn't face the road, and we've never heard car sounds before. It is, however, next to a private driveway, and sometimes we'll hear her grandparents' car doors close or the neighbors backing out. The next day, I was shoveling the sidewalks at my girlfriend's house, a task that takes me about 20 minutes, when I saw the same black Chevy Silverado with mud streaks on the tailgate. I

circled the block about four times, and I was able to see the silhouette of the man driving through the passenger side window. Each time, it was the same man in the same truck. My girlfriend lives in a very small town, and we were able to catalog the neighborhood cars; the black van and truck are abnormal. Our theory is that someone is trying to scare my girlfriend into not testifying, or flat out making sure neither of us ever have the ability to testify. We really just need some more opinions: are we just paranoid, or is this

something we should actually be worried about? Do you think these are just weird coincidences? Almost a year ago, I was an opener at a resort, clocking in before 5 a.m. each day. The resort is located inside an affluent neighborhood in a very wealthy town or suburb. Employees had to park in one of two parking lots at either end of the property, and the lot I chose was adjacent to a long and windy road outside the resort, which led to the rest of the neighborhood. The road and resort were separated by a short range of brush

and trees that no one ever walked through. I had arrived one morning, per usual, and put the car into park with my headlights still on. The lights in the parking lot were never on in the morning since no one else ever really showed up before 6 a.m. The sun was never out at this time either, so it was usually always dark. At the start of my walk, I was one of the first employees to arrive on the property each morning and was usually completely alone in this particular parking lot at this time. This morning didn't

seem any different. I had my hand on my keys, literally, and my brain in the process of turning off my car when I noticed a young girl—maybe 14 or 15 years old—come scampering towards me. Her body language was the exact definition of "run," with quick light steps, especially through fear or excitement. Through the span of trees that separates the resort from the outside road, she was directly in front of my car, and my headlights illuminated a clear view of her in the pitch black. She looked like she was in high school, had long blonde hair,

and was wearing a jacket with pajamas, as if she had just walked out of a house. One thing about her that bothered me was that she wouldn't stop laughing and smiling. I couldn't hear her laughing from outside the car, but she was visibly giggling at something I wasn't aware of or could see, and it felt so unnatural. She occasionally glanced behind her as if someone else were there, waiting. She then waved at me as if it were a normal gesture, and then immediately ran to my passenger side door. This all happened in a matter of

seconds, and I wasn't really sure what was even happening, besides my anxiety spiking. I simultaneously yanked the aux from my phone to shut off whatever song I'd been playing while grabbing for the lock button. I remember feeling panic for never remembering if it was up or down to lock when the girl began pulling violently on the door handle on the passenger side. She began pounding on the window, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs for her to leave before pressing on my horn. I could see her laughing outside, as if this were

some type of game, as if I were a silly friend for not letting her in as a joke. After a few seconds, she stopped pounding and tried to open my driver's side door. Her face fell flat, like I had disappointed her, and she started to walk away from my car, back the way she came. She waved at me again before squeezing through the trees out of the view of my headlights. This whole encounter just confused me almost as much as it scared me. Most people I told the story to just chalked it up to her

being on drugs, but that narrative hasn't felt right to me despite her behavior. Maybe she was just being an extremely out-of-touch teenager whose parents need a firmer grip on her. My first thought was possibly human trafficking, but I'm not sure if that would fit this scenario, so I'm not the most well-versed with that subject. I told someone when I made it into work, but they didn't seem to care much, and I didn't call the police. I regret that I'll never get out of my brain how off that feeling was—watching a stranger, seemingly alone, pop out

from the trees in the darkness, laughing, and then trying to violently enter my car in an empty parking lot. I do think the possibility of someone else being present the whole time is a lot more scary, and I wonder who else was there and where exactly.