16x14: The Clawing at the Door (Re-Upload | Audio Fixed)

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I used to live in a charming area of a major city where the streets were lined with quaint, old buildings. It seemed safer to walk in this area at night compared to some other neighborhoods. My only problem was that I didn't exactly have the money to afford one of the nicer places nearby, so I lived in an apartment building with six units, and my apartment was on the ground floor. My upstairs neighbor had a dog that would bark at everything. I was told she was triggered by the sounds of children screaming, which occurred often as we lived between a park and a kindergarten school. I'll never forgive myself for not confronting that asshole neighbor about his inability to properly care for that poor dog. The apartment building was old, so it needed maintenance all the time. The owners were a family who lived in Chinatown, and when sending their grandfather as a handyman to try and fix everything with cock, didn't work, they eventually called professionals, though never when it was convenient for the tenants. Only when the building was at risk of being structurally damaged. At the time, I was working a night job as a custodian for a government facility. It was fine, the pay was great, and the workload wasn't too much, but the disrespect was something that I couldn't stand. I eventually quit, and when that happened, I was still living there, and thus sleeping in late. I usually wasn't up until about 11 a.m. This would become especially convenient for me when the landlady would give out my phone number for someone who needed to be led into the building, as I was on the ground floor directly next to the main doors. Now, this is illegal, by the way, tenants do not work for the building owners, but I digress. I had been told by my landlady the night before that someone might be getting in contact with me to get into the building, but I never got a text from anyone. I figured they must have gotten in their own way since I was awoken by the sound of men trying to heave equipment down the narrow alleyway beside our house. This was the area where people took their trash out, but it also gave access to the background floor property. As I heard this noise, I sat up awake in my shitty loft bed, which my dad and I had made, and I went scrambling down the ladder to go to the alleyway. I'm a plant person, and many of my beautiful, uncommon outdoor plants had been in the alleyway, stacked on top of the air conditioning cage on the window of my bedroom. I had to make sure that these groaning men weren't carrying their huge equipment around the tiny congested space and knocking anything over. Just to be safe, I decided that I would just bring my plants inside as they were making trips between the alleyway and their work truck. I had grabbed four of my plants when a few of them came back up the alley. I was sort of shocked, like a deer in headlights, as I was trying not to drop my green babies and dressed in my skimpy pajamas. I was in great shape at the time, so I was approached by men with sexual intentions nearly every day. This was one of the reasons I liked being a night custodian. I got to wear shapeless coveralls and be left alone with a mop in my music. Being caught like this by these men felt humiliating and scary. The men squeezing down the alleyway were clearly roofers based on their equipment and the clothes that they wore, and a few of them were staring at me. I quickly apologized and told them that I just wanted to get my stuff out of their way. One or two of them said, no worries, or that's okay. And one of them said something like, we would never let anything happen. I nodded shyly in response, embarrassed by the scramble of it all. I began handing some of the plants through the bars of the air conditioner cage and onto the small ledge inside my bedroom window. I guess I didn't think about it at the time, but I had basically indicated that not only did I live in this building, but on the ground floor and the unit we were standing next to, clearly right by the side entrance door that connected to the narrow alleyway. They spent their day working on the roof, which was done by nightfall, and nothing weird happened. Two days later, I was woken early in the morning by a phone call from a number with my city's area code. Even though it was an unusual hour for me to be getting a phone call, I answered just in case it was someone who needed to get into the building, as the call wasn't flagged as spam likely or anything like that. When I answered, I heard what sounded like the voice of a drunk man asking for someone named Frank or a fan. He was slurring his words, and he had an accent, so it was tough for me to tell what he was saying. I asked him to repeat himself a few times until I finally just had to tell him that he had the wrong number. I woke up again later when I heard some commotion in the alleyway. I was still in my loft bed sleeping in, but didn't worry too much about the noise. I had no reason to believe that the wrong number call that I had just received and that bit of noise I heard in the alley, which my building shared with another building, had anything to do with one another, so I fell back asleep. Then I heard a bang and a crash from the interior hallway that briefly woke me for a third time, but I still fell asleep again. When I got up around 10.30, I went to see if the shared washing machine was open in our basement. I noticed the hallway was a bit darker and that one of the wall sconces had been essentially demolished. There was no light bulb, but there was some broken glass on the floor. I was a bit groggy still, so I didn't fully process it too deeply, but what snapped me out of it was that the light bulb in the basement didn't turn on. The basement of this building was so creepy. It was really long and deep with a low ceiling full of crap from other rental properties owned by the landlord. There were plenty of spider webs down there, which were inhabited by their venomous occupants, black-footed sack spiders. The washer dryer wasn't in the basement, but it was just opposite down there, so you had to have your back to this creepy space if you were doing your laundry. It was just always a very unsettling experience, as it was, and I wouldn't go down there without having a light on. When I turned away from the pitch black, I noticed that the owner's vacuum wasn't in its normal place, which was usually near the side door entrance, so I then went back to my room to organize the laundry into loads in the meantime. I started splitting it into whites and colors and then sheets and towels. I figured I would wait until I dared go back down there to start a wash. Then when I glanced over at my open window, I noticed something that hadn't been there before, sitting at an angle on the windowsill. It was a book with a revolver-style pistol on the cover and a paper card sticking out of it. I don't remember what the note itself said exactly, but it was something about wanting to give the book to me, and it was simply signed phone. Yes, just the word phone. This freaked me out. Was this left here by the man who had called me on the phone earlier? I immediately texted my third-floor neighbor, whom I'll call Vanessa. She and I bonded over our terror of the long, scary basement, and I sent her a photo of the book and the strange note. She replied and said, hold on. And moments later, I heard her knocking on my door. When I let her in, she looked completely freaked out. I tried to ease the tension by lamenting the broken hallway sconce. Vanessa told me that she went to the washer dryer that morning before anyone else, and the light hadn't worked, just as I had. As she began descending the steps, she thought she heard something, or maybe sensed it, so she called out into the dark. She said, hello? She wanted to see if anyone was down there. She was expecting the voice of one of our three other female neighbors, but she heard someone completely unexpected in response. A man with a deep voice and an accent replied to her and said that he was just fixing the light, but she said that she could barely understand him because he was slurring his words. This scared her, so she turned around and immediately sprinted back up the stairs to return to her apartment. She said that she had yelled down again around an hour later, but no one replied. She wanted me to go down there with her to make sure that nobody was there anymore. I had two headlamps from work and a flashlight, so we went down the stairs together, practically crawling out of our skin, holding onto each other for dear life as we shouted into the dark. We saw that somebody had broken the light bulb in the slot and grabbed the vacuum and tried to clean it, but had failed. They had also stolen a container of detergent from near the machines, as a trail of powdered soap went up the steps in multiple spots and into the hallway. Our only male neighbor didn't seem weirded out or concerned at all. In fact, he thought we were being dramatic and just dismissed us to go about his day as if nothing happened. So we contacted our landlady, asking if someone was supposed to be coming by to fix the light, and asked if they had called me before coming in. She didn't say anything and just blamed us for leaving the side door unlocked. I asked her if she could verify the number that called me, with the roofing people to see if maybe it was someone from their team, but she flat out refused, saying she and that company had worked together many times. She insisted that they had a good relationship and had nothing to say about the drunk guy who seemingly inexplicably destroyed the light bulbs in the basement level of the building. I don't have photos of the note, the book, or the basement mess anymore, but this happened over a year ago, and I no longer live there. I still wonder if it was one of the construction workers though. I wonder if he happened to see me in the alley, and then he went on a bender and decided to walk into my building and try to find me. I imagine he just opened the first door he saw, leading into the basement, and decided to take out the lighting from there for whatever reason. Thinking back, I wish I had asked the neighbor across the street for their ring camera footage, but I never did, so I'll never truly know who that person was. I used to think that electrolytes were just for athletes or super intense workouts, but drip drop has totally changed that. It's become my go-to reset button for busy days, brain fog, travel, whatever. Staying hydrated keeps me clearheaded and ready for whatever's next. Drip drop is doctor-developed, proven fast hydration that helps your body and mind work better, which is exactly what you need in 2026. It's for support on busy days, long workouts, and everything in between. Drip drop uses science-based formulas for rapid hydration, so you feel results fast while getting three times the electrolytes of leading sports drinks. 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As I reach the edge of this town and enter more country roads, a red beat-up car cuts me off by pulling out in front of me. I was pissed off because there weren't any other cars around. The guy could have waited for me to pass, but I got over it quickly because my favorite song was on the radio. Then I noticed that the car in front of me was only going about 45 miles per hour. The speed limit is 65, so this was getting ridiculous. I was looking for a way to pass him and an intersection was coming up. I decided to wait and see if he was going to go in a different direction than I was. We then approached the four-way intersection. It was pitch black with no one else around. As we came closer to it, the car in front of me switched on its hazards and stopped in the middle of the road. I slowed down so that I wouldn't hit him. I then saw the driver's side window roll down and an arm wave at me, as if I were being called over for help. I'm a very paranoid person, so I refused to stop for someone that I don't know, especially when it's dark. So I quickly maneuvered around the car and made a right turn at the intersection, leaving the car behind. Then I looked in the rearview mirror and I saw a car switch off its hazards and immediately gun it out of there. Another car then emerged from the driveway close to the intersection and I followed it. Remember how there was no one else on the road besides us for miles? I can only assume the two cars were in on this together. They were either trying to get me to pull over or get out of my car to do God knows what with me. Now I don't drive late at night anymore. So creepy car guy with your hazards on, let's not meet again. I've had social media accounts for years now. When I was 13 I got on MySpace and then moved to Facebook later on. I was always careful not to talk the weirdos or creeps. My profiles were private until about 17 or 18. Now I'm pretty active on my social media profiles so there are a lot of pictures of my family and me. I'm married with kids now, so there are a lot of pictures and posts about them as well, of course. My profile wasn't private at this time, but I quickly made it so after this incident. I've come across some creeps in my life, but it's never been a big deal. I usually just ignore or block them and then they go away. Well apparently that doesn't always solve the problem. A couple of months ago I got a weird letter in the mail. It was just a folded piece of paper with a giant pink heart sticker keeping it shut. While it seemed odd, I wasn't thinking too much about it. I just figured it was something cute from my husband's aunt. She always sends us a bunch of cutesy little things for the kids. I was wrong though. I opened it and a pink piece of paper fell out. I didn't read it right away as I was too distracted by the white paper, which had printouts of almost every picture I had taken since I was 14. Some word even on my social media, I had no idea how the sender found these. There were pictures of me acting a fool with my legs in the air. There was a cut out of my butt from a picture of my husband and I holding hands back in high school. There was even a loose photo of my little sister. That was when I moved my attention to the pink letter. I wish I hadn't though. What I read in that letter was the most disgusting example of vulgarity I had ever witnessed. The sender who turned out to be some random man went into great detail about the things that he had been wanting to do to me for years. He asked me to run away with him. He asked to come pick me up from my job where I was currently working. Then he started describing the things he wanted to do to my little sister. It was so disgusting and vile. I almost passed out as I was reading it. My heart sank, but it almost pounded out of my chest at the same time. I started sweating and breathing fast and then I ran to my dad, husband, and brother. After freaking out a bunch, I tore up the letter in the pictures and I threw them away. But then my brother got to work and started doing some research to see if he could find out any information about the guy who sent this to me. Turns out, this guy sent letters like this to tons of other girls across the country. All kinds of other girls had received sexually explicit letters in the mail just like mine from the same man. He ended up having a five-hour standoff with police at his home, which ended in him ending his own life. And that happened the day before the letter arrived at my door. I'm very sorry this happened to so many other women, but I'm glad that he and I never met. I hope it was the same for the others as well. I'm a real estate agent who works and lives in a small town in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I work alongside my husband at his family-owned agency, which has been there since the 1970s. We rarely sell homes or represent buyers for homes that are more than an hour outside of our area. However, occasionally, when I have an appointment with a client near the highway that takes me up the mountain, I take the opportunity to drive another 30 minutes to my favorite scenic mountain overlook. It was a rainy day in May and I needed to assess the progress of a house under construction. This house was only 30 minutes away from the overlook, and after assessing it, I decided it had made little to no progress since the last time I drove past it, so I headed towards the overlook. There was nothing unusual about this rainy day until I turned left on the highway, leading me to the overlook. Several yards before coming to a stop sign, I noticed a black bird in the middle of the road that appeared indifferent. The bird's response time was delayed for a clean getaway. I heard its body fly right into the grille of my car. As I looked into the mirror, I saw that it didn't make it. Now, I'm not crazily superstitious, but I do believe in signs, whether positive or negative, and I told myself that this could not be good. After driving 10 or so minutes up the mountain, the light rain turned into heavy downpour, making the road slick. The fog thickened, making it extremely difficult to drive. At this point, I could feel something telling me to turn back. I felt as though something was off, but I told myself that I was just feeling rattled about the black bird that I had accidentally hit, and I kept driving. Another five minutes passed, and I wasn't far away from the overlook. For the past 25 minutes I had been driving, nobody had been behind me. However, a small red Tacoma truck that had a portagion in its bed was suddenly tailing my car. I figured I would lose them since I assumed they would likely continue onto the highway as I was going to turn left towards the overlook. The truck however followed me, an inched even closer to my vehicle. I was slightly panicking as the rain poured even harder and the fog made it that much more difficult to see the road ahead. By then, I was only two minutes away from the overlook, and I noticed a white truck with its lights on pulled off of the side of the road. This truck looked as though it had been waiting for someone, but it was a pretty peculiar place to wait since there was nothing there. The red truck was still on my tail, and just as I was sure he was going to run me off the mountain, I found the overlook to my left, so I swerved into its parking lot and let out a sigh of relief. It was short-lived though. I looked to my left and a few yards away the small red Tacoma truck was parked as well. I sat in my car for a few minutes thinking maybe he was taking a lunch break or perhaps he couldn t see anything past the fog and didn t want to chance driving in these conditions. A few more minutes passed and the individual driving the red truck opened their door to get out. It was a man holding a gun. He was about 5'8'' with black hair, maybe around mid-40s. He had a toothpick in his mouth and he was wearing overalls. He was making strides towards my car while holding a shotgun that would make the bravest men cower. I was terrified, but I didn t want to wait for him to reach his destination. I immediately started my car and headed back in the direction I came from. The man didn t follow me in his red truck, but the white truck parked off to the side was on my tail as I made my way out of there, and whoever was in that truck was driving even more recklessly than the man with the shotgun. As I was driving out of there, the rain lightened up, but the fog lingered longer than I wished it did. The person in the white truck stayed on my tail for at least 10 minutes until I finally lost them somewhere in the fog when I quickly turned right onto a back road. I was relieved they did not turn into an impasse on the mountain. I don t know about you, but I m keeping my money where I can see it. Unfortunately, traditional big wireless carriers also seem to like keeping my money as well. After years of overpaying for big wireless, I finally got fed up with the crazy high wireless bills, bogus fees, and free quote unquote free perks that actually cost more in the long run, and I switched to Mint Mobile. The difference in my bill was immediate. I m paying a fraction of what I used to pay, and the service has been just as good, if not better in some places than what I had before. Stop overpaying for wireless just because that s how it s always been. Mint exists purely to fix that. 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Things seemed nice from an outside perspective, but the landlords and services were terrible. For example, they would refuse to fix our air conditioning in the middle of the summer, but that s another story for another time. About a week or so after we moved into our apartment in October 2016, my roommates Jeff, Kylie and Kristen and I all returned from the store after grocery shopping. We met a strange individual, an older man in his 40s who was wearing sweatpants that were hiked all the way up to his chest. We greeted him and introduced ourselves before returning to the apartment to put our groceries away. But then, Kylie decided to invite the man inside for a soda and a chat. I ve always been very socially awkward and a bit of an introvert, so I avoided the interaction and I just did my own thing. A couple of days passed and we got a knock on the door. It was the man. We didn t mind too much. It was the middle of the day and we were home, so Kylie led him in and they started working on some art together. This man began to drop by more habitually. When I was having a night of drinking with Kristen, we received a knock on the door at about 7 or 8 pm. We found this to be strange, but Kristen opened the door. It was the man again, he was asking for Kylie. I made it very obvious that I didn t want to let him in, but Kristen said, Oh, she s out, but she should be home in a little while, I think. The man replied, Can I have a soda? Kristen agreed and he proceeded to let himself in without Kristen inviting him in. He sat right down next to me. It was truly an awkward experience. Considering the two of us rarely spoke to him, thankfully Kylie came home shortly after, so I was able to ditch the room and let her take over with talking to him. I know I probably sound awful, but I have extreme social and regular anxiety. Kylie was starting to get fed up with him coming over every day, so we decided that we would try to avoid him for a bit, but things started to worsen after that. Now and then we would hear scratching on the door. It was unnerving and bizarre, so we would simply turn off the lights and stay quiet until it stopped. I think at one point, Kylie tried to talk to him about not being comfortable with him coming over so often, but I m not sure how that conversation really went. Things started to escalate a bit more when we came home one day and found a bunch of drawings taped to the door. We took them down, brought them inside and looked at them. I wish I still had the pictures of them, however it was a long time ago. They were sketches of each of us and Kristen s cat, but they were distorted strangely like his perception was obscured or something. This sparked a whole series of us having to sit in the dark essentially every night while he scratched at the door and knocked. We would keep weapons nearby just because he never knew what someone was capable of. We always kept the door locked, but I don t recall him ever trying to open the door, I just remember him scratching and knocking. We decided to take some action and we called the landlord s office about it. They said that they couldn t do anything and said we would have to call the police. We didn t want to call the police because the man hadn t really harmed us, so we did the only thing we could think of. We ghosted him. The next thing we found on our door was a sign language booklet. It was filled with scratchy notes written in pen, words were crossed out and then written over, and there were multiple languages written in it as well as some poems. We kept the evidence in a cabinet just in case we decided to report it later. Some months went by and in the midst of the winter we received our final gift from our strange friend. It was a letter. I can t recount what it said exactly, but it was something along the lines of, Why have you all stopped talking to me? Do you not want to be friends anymore? I m very angry with you. However, this message was sprawled out over two paragraphs. I remember we felt a level of fear and discomfort with this letter, so we continued to ghost until he just stopped after that. I ended up moving out before the next autumn, which is a good move since these roommates were a little too party animal for my taste. Although the chances seem slim now, I hope that I don t meet this man again. This happened to me when I was 14. At the time, I wanted to make a little bit of money, so I figured the easiest way to do that was by selling some of my old toys on Facebook marketplace. I had a pretty big Lego Harry Potter collection, but I wasn t really into Harry Potter anymore, so I decided to sell it. A few days after posting the ad, a buyer contacted me. I remember feeling very excited because I was about to make real money on my own for the first time. The buyer was a man who looked kind of old, but from his profile picture he seemed nice enough. He told me he wanted to buy the Legos for his grandson, which made the whole thing seem pretty wholesome. But as we started messaging, a few things felt off. Whenever I asked him questions about when he would pick up the Legos, he would leave me on red and not reply. Sometimes he wouldn t answer until I sent multiple question marks. On top of that, he made a lot of grammatical mistakes, like the kind of mistakes a high schooler would make. Not a fully grown adult. At that time, I thought that it was weird, but I just ignored it. Eventually, we agreed to meet. I don t remember exactly if it was Wednesday or Thursday, but I remember I had school the next day. He said he wanted to pick them up that night. I gave him the address of a bookstore that was about a 10 minute walk from my house. I figured that was safer than having him know my actual home address. He agreed to meet me there and told me that he wanted to meet at 8.30pm. Now, looking back, that s obviously pretty late for a 14 year old to meet a stranger. But at the time, I just wanted the money so I still agreed. But something in my gut told me not to go alone. My dad was away on business, so I asked my mom if she could come with me. She immediately asked if I could reschedule the meeting with the man. I told her it would be fine and said that the man seemed nice, so she eventually and probably reluctantly agreed to come with me. Later on, we drove to the bookstore. My mom didn t want the man to see our car, so she parked about 5 minutes away and we walked the rest of the way. I had the Lego pieces in my jacket pocket because I didn t want to carry them in my hands. As we were walking to the bookstore, something immediately caught my attention. There was a man standing in front of the store. He looked middle aged, maybe older, but right away I noticed something strange. He did not look like the man in the Facebook profile picture at all. The man in the profile picture had long gray hair. This guy was skinny and had a buzz cut. He was wearing a sling bag across his chest. Before we crossed the street, my mom stopped me. She told me to text the man and say that I was already inside the bookstore. She had a bad feeling and didn t want me to go near this guy. So I did exactly that. As we walked past the man, I hid my phone so that he wouldn t see I was texting. I sent him a message saying that I was already inside the store and asked if he could come in. Almost immediately he replied. He told me to come outside. He kept insisting. At this point, it was really dark outside and there was barely anyone around. The only reason I could see him clearly was because of a nearby street light. I messaged him again and I told him that I wasn t going outside. Even though I was actually walking away toward the car, I wanted him to think I was still in the bookstore. He then sent another message. He simply called me an idiot and added a laughing emoji. That message freaked me out. It felt like he knew something was off. As soon as my mom and I got back to the car, we drove away. On the way home, she told me to delete my marketplace account and block the man immediately. When we got home, I thanked my mom for coming with me. She hugged me and told me that I should never agree to meet someone that late again. However, the story doesn t end there. Around that time, one of my friends was also selling Legos on Marketplace. He was a little older than me, maybe 16. I told him about the situation, but I never told him the name of the man. Halfway through my story, my friend suddenly said a name and asked, Wait, was this the guy? I was completely shocked. I asked him how he knew. Then he showed me screenshots of a conversation he had with the buyer, and it was the same man. He was telling my friend the exact same story, Legos for his grandson. My friend immediately messaged him and said that someone had already bought the sets. That wasn t true. He just didn t want to deal with the guy after hearing my story. After that, neither of us heard from the man again. I don t know what he s doing now, and I don t know who he really was or why he was using a default picture that clearly wasn t him. But my gut feeling is telling me he definitely wasn t trying to buy Legos for his grandson. Did you know there s an online cannabis company that ships federally legal THC right to your door? And they ve found a way to combine THC with carefully selected functional ingredients to create gummies, baked goods, and flour for whatever type of buzz you want. 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Head to Mood.com, find the functional gummy that matches exactly what you re looking for, and use promo code MEEET at checkout for 20% off your first order. That s Mood.com promo code MEEET. For some context, I m a woman, and I live with my boyfriend in a very small apartment complex that has maybe around 30 units. We live in a pretty safe town, and this story in particular took place in late October of 2017 when I was 24. My designated parking space is the furthest from the entrance to our complex, and it borders the back gravel lot, which is for visitors and residents who don t have a designated space. Each residence is only given one designated space, so if a unit has more than one car, the other car or cars will have to park out in the gravel lot. My boyfriend parks there since I got to park my car in the designated spot. The back lot is to the left of the space, and the designated parking space to the right of my spot has been vacant. It s been unassigned for over a year. A few months before this story took place, a white van had been periodically parking in the vacant space just to the right of me, but not consistently. They would usually park in the back of the lot, or in one of the four spaces that were specifically designated for visitors. However, I noticed the van had been parking in the vacant spot next to me more frequently. There were spots closer to the building that had also been vacant for a long time, but they kept parking next to me. Well, one day, I had just gotten home from getting my hair cut and I pulled into the parking lot. This time, I noticed that a charcoal gray sedan with heavily tinted windows was parked in that vacant spot next to mine, and the car was running. I found this odd because there were several designated and visitor spots open, and I had never seen this car before. As I was pulling into the space, the gray car shut off. I m naturally cautious, and this seemed odd to me. I was listening to Pink Floyd s Dark Side of the Moon, and I wanted to finish the song I was listening to, so I waited a few minutes because I simply can t leave a good song unfinished. Also, I felt anxious. I felt like I was being watched. I tried to reason with myself and the situation, though. I tried to tell myself that maybe they were waiting for someone. Plus, I know I tend to be paranoid, so I just told myself to stay calm, and I composed myself before leaving my car. After the song, I turned off my car and hurried inside, where my boyfriend was waiting for us to go get ready to meet his family for his brother s birthday outing. We were in our apartment for about 20 minutes while I changed clothes. We then walked out to the gravel lot where his car was parked, and I noticed that the charcoal gray car was no longer next to my car. It was now next to my boyfriend s car, and it was running again. At this point, I mentioned to him how odd it was that they were still there and how it moved to the visitor lot. We were out for a few hours, but I didn t notice the car when we got back. The next day, I was off from work. I got into my car to go pick up groceries, and there was a note on my windshield. I immediately began to shake. Somehow, as I grabbed it, I knew that it was from the people in the gray car. I was so panicked, I just started crying. I guess it was a fear response. I have a panic disorder, and this happens sometimes. I won t quote the entire thing because much of it was very graphic, but here s what I will share. The note said, Hi, you must not even remember us, but at approximately 532 on the 29th of October, you pulled up next to us. You appeared to be preoccupied and pensive. We couldn t help but stare. We are serious about pleasing others and would be honored to be the ones to train you. I m 6'2", 175 lbs, and 25 years old. She is 5'7", 112, and 22 years old. They went on to share incredibly detailed plans and information, which I did not ask for, but you can guess what they said. After I calmed down, I went to pick up groceries, and then I called my boyfriend. He came home for his lunch break, and we emailed our landlord. He went back to work, and I spent the rest of the day in shock. I felt violated. After all, this is my home. This is supposed to be a safe place, and these strangers violated that. I don t shame them for their kinks, but this is not the way to go about that. They came to my home, and they painted a picture of me and them that I didn t ask for or want, and they gave me a reason to be paranoid and afraid that they would do whatever it took to make that picture a reality. It took a few days, but I did call the police. They came to our apartment, and I let them know what happened. They collected the note that was left. They ended up calling the creeps, but I never heard back. Interestingly enough, I never saw that white van that used to park next to me after that. I was so surprised because I didn t expect the police to take this seriously at all, considering that is what happens with many of the stories similar to mine. I didn t expect the caring response they gave. My boss also changed my schedule so that I would get home when it was still light out, and I called my friends and boyfriend every time I walked to and from my car for weeks. This was a difficult story to share, and I m definitely holding back on sharing the full extent of how I felt. What I do know is that it was strange that they were parked next to me with all the open spaces. It was strange that their car was still running, that they turned their car off when I parked, that in the 20 minutes I was in my apartment, they were still in the lot but hadn t moved spaces. It was strange that the mysterious van stopped showing up after the police called the people in the gray car. It was all so very strange. They left enough identifying information about themselves that I was able to look them up on Facebook, and I had one mutual friend with the guy. This was an old heroin junkie co-worker whom I immediately blocked and unfriended. It s been a while since that incident, but I m still vigilant when walking up to our apartment building because I get off work very late now. I m extra cautious of my surroundings, and I trust myself when I feel that the situation isn t quite right. I m glad that I saw d help, and I m glad I had a large support group around me, but most importantly, I m glad that those creeps have not tried to contact me since. Let s not meet. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. You know what s interesting about hosting a show like Let s Not Meet. The stories that resonate most aren t always the ones with the monsters in the woods. Sometimes the scariest thing is the quiet creeping pressure of financial stress, and I think a lot of us carry that around without ever really acknowledging how heavy it is. 88% of Americans report some form of financial stress at the start of 2026, and that s almost everyone. It doesn t just affect your bank account. It affects your sleep, your relationships, your sense of worth. Money worries are one of the leading sources of conflict for couples. They can bring on real anxiety and even depression, yet so many of us just white-knuckle through it alone. Like, struggling means we ve failed somehow, but it doesn t. And that s where therapy comes in, and I want to be clear. I m not giving you financial advice. I just want to help you work through the shame and the anxiety, the mental weight that comes with it. Having a space to unpack your relationship with money and build healthier ways of coping can genuinely change things. 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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates, National Average 12 Month Savings of $946 by New Customers Surveyed who saved with Progressive between June 2024 and May 2025. Potential savings will vary. If you re fascinated by True Crime, then join us in October 2026 for CrimeCon London. Meet the biggest names in True Crime TV, experience live forensic demonstrations, and dive deep into the criminal mind with your favorite authors, experts, podcasters, and content creators. To secure your place, go to crimecon.co.uk now and be part of the UK s biggest True Crime community. CrimeCon London partnered by True Crime Channel 3rd and 4th October 2026. I m a woman and when I was 24, I used to go to a smaller university in my city. While I was there, I worked as a bartender at the University Bar. I also lived about five minutes away from campus, which was really convenient most of the time for naps between classes, but it just lost its touch after this encounter. I usually worked day shifts on days that I didn t have any classes, and my best friend Dan, who was 23, also worked with me there. We were really close, so he would hang out during my shifts before believing me most nights. I had known Dan for years, and although he was a sweetheart, he was often quite oblivious. One day, while Dan was sitting at the bar entertaining me during my shift, a guy sat next to him. The guy seemed normal, he was around my age and wasn t bad looking either. He had blonde, disheveled hair and sculpted muscles. I could also tell that he had clearly come from a construction site because he was wearing work boots and had a hard helmet hanging from his belt. This wasn t unusual because there was typically a lot of construction going on nearby, and most construction workers in the area were also students at the university. I struck up a conversation with this guy and went through all of the customer service chit chat that I was used to. When I was busy with another customer, he turned to Dan and started chatting with him. They seemed to get on quite well. However, I could tell every now and again that the guy kept on sneaking glances at me, which was flattering the first couple of times, and not uncommon as a female bartender. But the longer he did it, the more I realized there was something about him that was just off when he looked at me. Rather than feeling flirtatious, it was like he was watching me or studying me. He seemed to be watching exactly what I was doing, where I was going, how I walked, and how I greeted people. It was like he was surveilling me, sizing me up even. This really set me off for obvious reasons, but also by this point, I had dated a couple of abusive, controlling guys, and this seemed all too familiar. This was when he started to loop me in on his and Dan s conversation. He asked if we knew each other. We gave him the obvious answer and told him yes. We had been joking with each other when he arrived. He then asked how we met and kept asking personal questions about the two of us. I already saw his ramp up coming a mile away before he asked if we were dating. Dan laughed because we get that all the time since we're really close and very comfortable with each other platonically. Dan, being his oblivious self, said no to the guy and that he was dating his girlfriend whom I adore, and then he mentioned I was single. Immediately I saw a shift in this guy's demeanor. He then turned to me and smiled. Although this was a pretty ordinary response, this one sent chills down my spine. Many people would just think that he was happy to be able to flirt with me freely, but the look in his eyes was telling. He was pleased because he wanted me to himself. I know that seems like a slight overreaction, but trust me, I know that type of look, the look that was on this guy's face. It was frightening as hell. After that, he started asking me personal questions, so I tried to go to other customers and act busy to try and avoid him. Sometimes Dan would answer for me, and I swear the dumb kid thought that he was wingmanning me. But in this instance, he was so, so wrong. The guy asked me how old I was, what I was studying at school, where I was from, and all other kinds of normal but slightly invasive questions. Finally, Dan got up to start his shift, which meant that mine was almost over. Because the guy didn't really do anything out of the norm, I didn't pull Dan aside. I just patiently waited until I could go and have a beer far away from this guy. As Dan went into the back, the guy turned his sole attention to me. He asked me what kind of shows I liked to watch, and I answered half-heartedly as I cleaned behind the bar. Then, suddenly, I looked up and I saw that his face was just inches from mine. He had leaned up onto the bar, and I could clearly smell him. That's how close he was. He then asked me if I lived alone. I did at the time, but there was no way I was going to tell this creep that. I shook my head, and I said that I lived with two roommates. I thought that adding two fictitious bodies to my living situation might deter him. He then leaned back down onto his seat and hummed. I saw a gleam in his eye that left me convinced he knew I was lying. At this point, I was shaking, which is really frustrating and unusual for me because I often keep up a rather stoic appearance when it comes to creeps. He seemed to notice this, and he smiled. Then, with a nod, he got up, put his jacket on, and said, See you later, Gemma. Then he left, just in time for Dan to come out of the back. Dan immediately saw how shaken I was and asked what was wrong. I could barely respond because, the thing was, I never introduced myself to the guy. I had forgotten to. No one had said my name. I knew this for certain because I asked Dan if anyone had, yet somehow the guy knew my name. Unfortunately, that's not the end of the story. After that encounter, I was on high alert for about four days. Then I got busy with studying and other life stuff. So this guy and the encounter went to the back of my mind, but not for long. Suddenly, I started seeing the guy everywhere. I saw him in the hallways, near my classes, at the bar. It felt like a coincidence turned into obvious intent, and I was freaked out. My university was small. There was very little for me to do to avoid him. My biggest worry was that he had seen the way I walked home. So I started to ask people to drive me, even though I only lived five minutes away. None of my friends minded it because they were very solid, which I'm thankful for. After about three weeks of this, I had started to tell my friends, who then started to sort of form a barrier around me. I was never alone outside of class, and I was always taken home by someone. I started to feel safer, and I had some other stuff that I was dealing with. So the guy just left my mind for a bit. During that time, I bought a pair of old-school yellow vans because I'm a huge fan of retail therapy when I'm feeling depressed or anxious. A few days later, I got a notice saying that they were out for delivery, so I was pretty excited. I don't usually buzz delivery guys into my building, though. I usually just let them notify me that my package has arrived, and then I pick it up myself at some point. I wasn't home, but I was still able to buzz the guy in, so I did. I guess I just wanted some immediate gratification, and I wanted to know that my package would be at my door when I got home. Anyway, I had worked late, and I was dropped off at home by a friend at around 10pm. I was exhausted but still stoked to get my vans and experience a small dose of serotonin in my life. But when I rounded the corner to my door, my package wasn't waiting for me. This was weird because when the delivery person is buzzed in, they always bring your box directly to your door. I shrugged it off, and I thought that maybe the delivery guy hadn't found my door number, or maybe he delivered it to the wrong apartment. So I unlocked my door, which seemed to stick a little, which was also weird. But I shrugged that off as well. When I opened the door, something immediately felt off. Nothing was out of place, but it felt like it. I cautiously stepped into my apartment, gripping my keys between my fingers. My other hand was holding my phone tight, on the verge of pressing down on the emergency call button. That was when I turned to the one thing that wasn't there when I left that morning, my package. It was sitting on my kitchen counter with a note next to it. I started to panic. I raced through my apartment, wielding my keys like a pair of claws. My apartment was so small that it was rather easy to sweep through it. And thankfully, no one was there, just me, my new vans, and the note. Going into survivor mode, I slammed my door, locked it, bolted it, and stuck a chair under the handle for good measure. I also checked every window to make sure that they were locked, and I checked to ensure that my sliding glass patio door was locked as well. That was when I found the second thing that was out of place. The security bar I usually stick behind my patio door was under my couch. I essentially had to crawl to find it. It was most definitely stuck behind my patio door when I left that morning. As you can imagine, this freaked me out even more, but I was just glad that the bar wasn't broken. I placed it back where it belonged and made sure that it was as tight as possible. And then I went straight towards my kitchen counter. My package was open, but the shoes were intact, basically untouched. Next to the box was a handwritten note on one of the sticky pads from my desk in the other room. It said, This is a small apartment for three people. Enjoy your vans. Now, I'd like to tell you that I called the police and sorted everything out, but that's not how this story ends. In fact, all I did was cry the whole night and have about five panic attacks. The police can't really do much when the guy hadn't done anything malicious, and there was no way for me to trace all of this back to one guy that I didn't even know. Especially because I haven't seen him since. The school term ended right after this, and I didn't have to go to campus until the following September. I also immediately moved in with my two sisters and brother-in-law, so if this guy were to reappear, he had very few ways to bother me after that. But just in case, for the love of God, creepy stalker, let's not meet again. Thanks for listening. Stick around after the music if you're a patron for your extended, ad-free version of this week's episode. If you want to get access, go to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast to sign up and support the show today. You'll get access to ad-free versions of all of the episodes at a higher bit rate, plus bonus stories in those extensions. So, if you're interested in getting to know more about the podcast, you can find the podcast on Patreon.com. If you're interested in getting to know more about the podcast, voiceover, voiceover, voiceover, voiceover, voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voiceover voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice voice the highway by very important trash, stocked on the internet for a decade by Anonymous. Near impasse on the mountain by Money in the Banana Stand, nice arrested development reference there, The Clawing at the Door by Ghost, the weirdest Facebook marketplace experience I've ever had, by Sky Educational 7070, they left a note by Shalock, and finally you've got Mail by Glongfee361. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors, Let's Not Meet a True Horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any of the message boards online. Again, send your stories into Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com to hear them on the show. We'll see you next week. Stay safe. If you're fascinated by True Crime, then join us in October 2026 for Crimecon London. Meet the biggest names in True Crime TV, experience live forensic demonstrations, and dive deep into the criminal mind with your favorite authors, experts, podcasters, and content creators. To secure your place, go to crimecon.co.uk now and be part of the UK's biggest True Crime community. Crimecon London, partnered by True Crime Channel 3rd and 4th October 2026.