Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 11x17: The Axe Man
Episode Date: October 16, 2023Stories in this episode: - The Axe Man | Your Friendly Neighborhood Medical Man (0:38) - A Friend of a Friend | Anonymous (13:57) - Trapped in the Turnout | Miracle (22:07) - Mr. Miller | caitycole... (27:12) - He Was Always at the Cemetery | Chiavan (33:43) - No One Will Have to Know | Something Simple (38:11) - Catfished by a Gang Leader | AnonymousPLS (44:34) Extended Patreon Content: - The Disturbing Student | yellowcat - A Manipulative Classmate | Anonymous - The Lockdown | Madden Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. 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 other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to letsnotmeetstories@gmail.com. Â Get access to extended, ad-free episodes of Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast with bonus stories every week at a higher bitrate along with a bunch of other great exclusive material and merch at patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast. This podcast would not be possible to continue at this rate without the help of the support of the legendary LNM Patrons. Come join the family! Check out the other Cryptic County podcasts like Odd Trails, Welcome to Paradise (It Sucks), and the Old Time Radiocast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts! Make sure to check out The Boogeyman on Blu-ray and Digital today! PDS DEBT is offering free debt analysis to our listeners just for completing the quick and easy debt assessment at www.PDSDebt.com/meet. To learn more about microdosing THC go to Microdose.com and use code MEET to get free shipping & 30% off your first order. Give your cat the gift of great cat food this holiday season. Head to Smalls.com/MEET and use promo code MEET at checkout for 50% off your first order PLUS free shipping! - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/
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This podcast contains adult language and content.
Listen to discretion is advised.
If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com.
Enjoy the show. I I've been a fan of the podcast for some time and like many other listeners I finally
felt like it was time to share my own story.
Before I get started, I want to quickly note that all names, truck numbers, call signs, etc
have been changed for the safety, respect, and security
of all parties involved.
For some background, I work as an EMT
in the Northeastern United States,
and I am encroaching on completing my first year on the job.
As the medical field is dynamic and unimaginably fast,
I still believe that I'm new to the job, even though the average shelf
life of someone in my position is only two years. The city I work in may not be the largest,
but it still has a diverse population, leading to a wide variety of patients, and even wider
variety of conditions, maladies, and afflictions.
Before an EMT in my state is clear to work on the road, they must first work a certain
number of hours in an observational role.
This requires us to work under the watchful eye of a field training officer which will
call an FTO.
This particular incident happened during my first week of FTO training wherein I was expected
to perform as a provider in my area normally would, though I would have a much more experienced
provider watching over my shoulder in case I was in need of guidance or correction.
We were nearing the end of our shift, having just finished up a long distance transfer,
when my FTO offered to have
me drive the box truck. The box truck is the stereotypical ambulance that most are familiar
with. He offered to have me drive it back to the city while he sat next to me with his
partner in the back of the ambulance. We were still an hour away from the city, which
allowed me ample time to become familiar
with driving such a hulking beast of an ambulance.
Now this particular truck was a little quirky, in the sense that the transmission often got
stuck, making it difficult to move around through the different gears.
I, however, was blissfully unaware of this little quirk, and my FTO failed to mention
said quirk, as
I assume he was quite used to it.
Luckily the drive back to the city went without incident.
However, as soon as we crossed the border back into the city, we heard a beep.
827-827 Priority 1 in the city for a mail-in crisis,
wielding an axe, PD has been requested.
For those of you who are unfamiliar, the moniker in crisis tends to refer to persons with an
altered level of consciousness, violent behavior, or psychological condition that may warrant medical
intervention. Anytime EMS gets sent one of these calls. The first priority is scene safety, hence why the police
department was called. The main prerogative in our shoes is to prevent the number of patients
from increasing, as well as to ensure the safety and security of the patient and the healthcare
providers in whatever position they may find themselves in. As such, if the call has the potential to be unsafe for the providers,
like a man wielding an axe, for example, EMS will stage themselves in a nearby location and
wait for the police department to create a safer environment in order to work in. We were still
about 10 minutes out from this call, so, as instructed by our dispatchers,
we flipped on the lights, cranked up the sirens, and sped to our call.
When we were about three minutes away from our call, we reached out to the dispatcher over the
air to check on the status of the police department. The dispatcher responded, 827,
PD states that they are about five minutes from your call.
827 PD states that they are about five minutes from your call. As we had some time, my FTO instructed me to flick on the lights, turn off the sirens,
and make a casual pass by the address, which happened to be a liquor store that often
attracted the wrong type of people.
We wanted to see if we could spot the patient.
My FTO checked the call notes on the monitor in our truck, and there
wasn't anybody that we could see that matched the description of the individual in question.
We made two more passes by the liquor store and still, we couldn't identify anyone.
After our third pass, we requested an update on the police department. We didn't see any
cruisers. The dispatcher assured, 827 PD states they
are on the scene for your call. Once again, we validated the address as there was no sign
of either PD or the patient. My FTO instructed me, after confirming the address, to pull into
the parking lot to see if we spot anyone either inside the liquor store or hiding anywhere else,
see if we spot anyone either inside the liquor store or hiding anywhere else, as all was still quiet on the western front.
As you can probably guess, this was not the best idea, however, this is where things got
interesting.
I pulled that behemoth into the lot, and sure enough we finally saw a man who not only
matched the description, but he was also waving a can of chewing tobacco around
in a wild, frantic manner. But the good news was, no acts in sight.
As we laid eyes on the patient, we still didn't have any eyes on PD. We decided to put it
in reverse and get out of there. As I began backing up, however, a white Honda pilot sped into the lot, preventing me from
being able to reverse without wrecking her car in the process.
As soon as I go to put the bus in the drive to avoid said wreckage, I hear my FTO say,
Pete, drive.
What's wrong, I began to ask.
Pete, he's pulling an axe from behind the garbage can, drive, my FTO said.
I frantically pulled the stick down, and it was stuck.
Pete, he's coming towards us with the axe, my FTO announced.
I continued tugging at the first gear with no luck.
Pete, he's getting closer narrated my FTO.
I managed to shift gears, but unfortunately, now I was in neutral.
Pete, drive, now, he barked.
I'm trying, I panicked.
I continued to shift back and forth between not being in drive and being even further away
from being in drive.
All the while my FTO was shouting frantically at me while a drugged up Michael Myers shambles his way over to the
meek ambulance crew in their stubborn dysfunctional bus.
As he was right on top of us, the EMS gods decided to bless us finally placing the truck into
drive.
Believe me when I say I have never pulled out of a parking lot so quickly in my life.
Just as we peeled out of there, a police cruiser calmly pulled into
the parking lot, seeing that the cavalry had arrived, we pulled over to the side of the
road to watch how the situation unfolded. PD parked on the side of the lot and began looking
around for the patient who was walking towards the road away from PD in an attempt to
non-shallotly leave the scene. See, our friend with the axe experienced a moment when he saw the cruiser pulling up to
the scene, and he came up with the brilliant idea.
He decided to shove the axe down his pants and conceal the axe head under his shirt.
Flawless plan, except that there was one little thing our axe wielder did not take into
account.
He was wearing ripped jeans, which was very fashionable, though not the best for concealing
anything, let alone a woodcutter's axe.
He clearly was a dream big kind of guy, as he did not settle for a knife or a hatchet
in the first place.
No he selected a big and scary lumberjack tool.
Efficient in practice, though difficult to hide, especially in pants where the knees have
rips. As such, a good foot of the axe handle was slipped out from the hole in his ripped
jeans. Not to mention, this way that he chose to store the axe caused him to limp, whilst
making his getaway, not the least bit inconspicuous.
This limp, coupled with our frantic pointing in his direction, led PD straight to him.
The officer in front of him looked down at the axe.
The axe wielder followed his gaze.
The officer lifted his shirt, revealing the axe head.
The officer and the guy looked at each other, then down at the axe and back at each other
then once again, down at the axe and then back at each other, then once again back at the axe.
The officer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as
he said, sir, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used
against you and the court of law, then his partner began placing the man in handcuffs.
The FTO got out of the truck with his partner and assisted PD with getting the patient
onto the stretcher and securing him to said stretcher in a manner that would neither endanger the patient's
circulation nor endanger any of us. Mind you, I was still at the wheel, trembling like a dog on the
4th of July, and that's when I heard a knock at the window. Hey Pete, why don't you come in the back with us?" My FTO said.
"'Yeah, sure,' I responded, an equivering voice.
Once in the back of the ambulance, the patient began thrashing around as he no longer had
the axe to hold him back.
He was screaming, cursing, and flailing, all before stopping abruptly as he made eye contact
with me. The devil is dead." He said with a blank expression. His eyes were wildly speaking of his many
intimate encounters with mine-altering substances. He then turned his head to the side to stare at his
reflection in the plexiglass slider of our equipment cabinet. Then he suddenly let out an other worldly scream which descended into this mad cackle. When we finally made it to
the hospital, we brought him inside to the behavioral ER, where nurses, techs,
and security were already waiting in the wings. We brought him into the room, where
he was flooded by staff attempting to keep him under control while we took off
his restraints and moved him over to a hospital bed.
Once there, he was placed in restraints once again, though he was still putting on a grand
performance of cursing, spitting, and thrashing about.
To prevent any danger to himself or others, a nurse hurried over to sedate him.
This lit a fiery passion in him, and he managed to contort his body in such a way that, while
restrained, allowed himself to thrust his hand into his pants for an emergency meeting
with Johnson and Johnson.
Before this could progress any further, the sedatives worked their magic, and he went
limp.
To all of those in or thinking of joining EMS, please remember the importance of scene safety
before arriving on scene for any call that may pose a potential danger.
To all of those brave first responders who put themselves on the line to ensure that the
scene is safe, thank you for all that you do, you ensure that at the end of the day, we
all get to go home in one piece.
To all of the nurses and hospital staff, thanks for all of the help that you provide to
those in need while having the bravery to look after those whose needs go beyond the hospital
setting.
And to our friend wielding the axe, I hope you found peace and happiness through less
self-destructive means.
But most of all, let's not meet.
I want to tell you guys about the Boogeyman, a horror thriller from the mind of the best
selling author, Stephen King.
High school student, Sadie Harper and her younger sister Sawyer are reeling from the recent
death of their mother and aren't getting much support from their father, Will, a therapist
who's dealing with his own pain.
When a desperate patient unexpectedly shows up at their home seeking help, he leaves behind
a terrifying supernatural entity that prays on families and feeds on the suffering of its
victims. The Boogeyman stars Sophie Thatcher of Yellow Jackets, Chris Messina of Birds of
Prey Vivian Lira Blair of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Marin Ireland of the Umbrella Academy? Madeline Who of Bizarre Mark?
Lisa Gay Hamilton of Vice and one of my personal favorite actors, David Dest Malchin of
Dune.
The Dark Knight.
Twin Peaks, he's amazing.
It's also directed by Rob Savage, who has directed one of my favorite found footage
horror movies of all time, host.
The Williamson has a screenplay by Scott Beckbrine Woods and Mark Heyman, warning
some flashing lights and the scenes in this film may affect photosensitive viewers, but
make sure you check out the Boogieman, available to own on Blu-ray and digital.
Now back to the show. My friend group and I used to hang around my old hometown, which was a very small and
kind of sketchy place.
And all honesty, we were the basic, skid type of kids, so this environment seemed normal.
For reference, I'm a female.
I was 13 at the time. I lived in the next town
over from my hometown, so my dad drove me to my hometown, so I could meet with my friends
since we made plans to hang out at a school that we often hung out at.
My friends were running late, and most of my friends couldn't afford cell phone plans,
so I didn't have the option to reach out to them.
I just had to wait.
My dad dropped me off and left.
So I sat on a bench in front of the school and I called another friend Corey just to check
on where my other friends were, because he almost always knew where everybody was.
Corey told me that they were at a restaurant, about a 20 minute walk away from where I was,
so he told Colin and Mark the two friends to head over to me since it's where we agreed to meet.
While I was waiting, I saw somebody walking up whom I had met once before.
I hadn't really recognized him until he sat beside me and started talking to me.
He was a strange guy, and my friends had vaguely told me how he
tried to tag along with them, despite their continuous attempts to get him off their back.
No matter how transparent they were with him, he always came back, acting as though he were best
friends with all of them. He was about 17, and all my friends were around that age as well.
Even though I was 13, they never made it weird
and always treated me like a little sister.
As we were sitting there, this guy started talking to me
about one of the other female friends.
He told me that he was supposed to hang out with her that day.
He said she was very upset since he knocked at the back door
of her ground level apartment.
He arrived without giving her any warning, so she didn't answer the door when she saw him. He said she was very upset since he knocked at the back door of her ground level apartment.
He arrived without giving her any warning, so she didn't answer the door when she saw him.
He was particularly upset about this because he said that he wanted to kiss her.
The more he was telling me his story, the more uncomfortable I got.
He noticed this, but continued talking and said that he needed to kiss someone no matter
who it was.
He even started complimenting me, which made me even more comfortable, so I got up and
I walked around the side of the school, telling him I needed to call someone.
I called Corey again and he told me that Colin and Mark hadn't left the restaurant to walk
over to me yet.
Corey told me to just come over to them since they weren't planning on leaving anytime soon.
I then told Cory what was going on with the strange guy
and he said that he wasn't surprised this was happening
and advised me to get out of the situation
as quickly as possible.
Stressed out, I walked back to the bench where the guy was.
I grabbed my purse and said,
I'm going to find Colin and Mark.
See you later.
I was hoping that was straightforward enough to indicate that I wanted the conversation
to end and that we would be parting ways, but he quickly got up and responded. I'm coming
with you. I didn't say a thing as we started walking. This guy continued to talk about
how angry he was with my female friend. From the way that he was talking about it, I felt like he had
very bad intentions with her. After popping off about it for the first five minutes of our walk,
he shifted into complimenting me again. I was focused on walking as fast as I could, hoping I could
eventually get away from him. I didn't want to run as I was fairly certain that he would
chase me. The next 15 minutes of the walk felt like forever. This guy's comments were
getting increasingly vile and now looed. Every time we passed a person on the sidewalk,
I looked at them with the most fearful expression that I could muster, praying that someone
would stop and interrupt this awful conversation.
As we were coming up on a crosswalk which led to a McDonald's, just across from the parking
lot of the restaurant where my friends were, the guy asked, what would you do if I slapped
your butt?
I told him I definitely wouldn't like that, or respond well, hoping that he wouldn't
try anything. We arrived at the crosswalk, which was button activated, so we had to wait.
As we were waiting for the light to turn, he did it.
He slapped my butt.
I gave myself blisters on the bottom of my feet from walking so fast I started crying
since I was terrified of the situation.
I texted my dad who said that he was on his way to come get me.
I gave my dad my exact location hoping that he would arrive as soon as possible.
Instead of walking to the restaurant where my friends were, I told the guy through tears
that I was going to use the bathroom at McDonald's.
I walked into the busy McDonald's right away and sobbed on the way into the bathroom.
I immediately called Cory and told him everything.
He told me to wait in the bathroom while he sent Colin and Mark over to McDonald's. My dad also texted
me and told me that he arrived, so I immediately ran back outside.
As I was trying to walk to my dad's car, that guy grabbed me and then pushed me up against
the side of the McDonald's. My dad got out of his car and yelled at the guy to get off
of me. I stood there blankly for a moment before running to my dad and hopping into the backseat
of the car. My stepmom was sitting in the passenger seat and she held my hand while
my dad called the cops. Meanwhile, Colin and Mark were now approaching the scene, looking
like they were ready for a fight. My friends took the guy inside McDonald's and talked
to him about how awful he was being towards me. The cops came and took my statement. At this
point, my friends were yelling at this guy. The cop didn't seem upset with my friends
as she understood why they were yelling at him. The cop also took statements from a few
witnesses at McDonald's and reviewed the CCTV footage from outside of it. I wound up
pressing charges,
and he pled guilty, but skipped sentencing and meetings with his lawyer many times, resulting in him
only being sentenced to six months of probation. It's been more than a year since this happened,
and I still can't walk past that McDonald's without getting chills. I hate to think of where this guy is now, but I hope we never meet again.
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Take back your financial freedom today by visiting PDS debt.com slash meat. I'm a 41-year-old woman working as a food delivery driver in the Central Valley of California. Recently on Labor Day,
I received an order at about 10 at night. I immediately accepted it, seeing that the pay was very good.
After accepting the order, I went to the burger place and picked up the food.
After clicking picked up on the app and transitioning to navigating to the destination,
I saw that the customer's address was up the mountains and in a very rural area.
I had delivered to this house before, but my previous trip there occurred during the day time
when it was nice and sunny out. Now, I didn't think too much of it and I just headed up the road.
After driving out of the city, the main road turns into a
windy, two-lane road going up the mountain. The main road was pitch black, and I couldn't
see the house from the road, but I managed to make my way there in 25 minutes. The driveway
leading up to the house loops up the hill and loops back down, so there's only one way in and
one way out. After making the delivery, I headed back down the driveway.
Once I was back down at the bottom, I needed to turn left onto the winding road to get
back down to the main road, taking me back into the city.
Since it was pitch black, I made sure to look both ways to see if any cars were coming
before making the turn.
I saw the headlights of a big pickup
truck coming up the mountain, so I waited for them to pass before turning left. But the truck
stopped right in front of my car, blocking me and preventing me from turning left. I was so confused.
Why were they blocking me? Was it someone who lived here? Were they trying to enter the driveway?
Every time I inched my car forward in an attempt to pass them, they aggressively inched their
truck forward to keep blocking me in.
My only other option was to exit to the right and drive up the mountain away from my city.
I went ahead and did that, but then they started tailgating me, following
my car up. The truck's headlights were so bright that I couldn't see well at all.
After a few minutes, I thought I'd just drive all the way up the mountain to where the
casino was. I used to work there, and it's open 24-7. Then I remembered that all the cell phone coverage was lost on the way up there.
With the truck on my tail, I pretended that I was going to turn left into a random dirt
road.
And the truck puts its left blinker on.
I didn't take the turn and I continued up the mountain, but the truck did the same, still
tailgating me with its brights on. I thought,
there's no way I can keep driving with this person behind me. I saw a small turnout on the right
side of the road so I pulled into it quickly, leaving no room behind my car. There wasn't enough room
for another car to pull in front of my car either. It was just a small pocket on the side of the road.
front of my car either. It was just a small pocket on the side of the road. I thought that the truck had no choice but to pass me. But it didn't. It stopped on the road next
to my driver's side. It stopped so close that it almost grazed my car. The truck was
so big that it blocked the entire turnout. I couldn't get out. The truck was an older model with tented windows, I couldn't
see inside. I called 911 and spoke to a dispatcher who asked me for my location. I told her what
road I was on, but there were no actual addresses anywhere nearby. A few moments later, another
car was coming up the road. It had to stop since this truck was stopped on the road. I turned on my emergency blinkers and honked my horn repeatedly, trying to get the other
driver's attention. The truck pulled forward to let this car pass them, and they continued
driving on. This had given me just enough space to make a quick U-turn. The truck could
not make a quick U- turn. It was too big.
But it still made a slow, multipoint you turn.
As this happened, my phone call with the dispatcher dropped. I lost cell service as I started
speeding down the road towards the city. The truck was now continuing to follow.
After a few minutes, there was enough cell service to call 911 again.
I spoke to a different dispatcher.
He stayed on the line with me until I reached the city streets.
My adrenaline was still pumping as I lost the truck and made my way home.
To whoever was in that big old pickup truck, blocking me and chasing me for no reason at
all late at night.
Let's not meet.
When I was about ten or eleven my family and I had a neighbor who was an elderly man.
He was in his seventies.
I don't remember what his first name was.
I just called him Mr. Miller.
He would chat with my parents often and reminded us that he fought in the Vietnam more and
he obviously had some PTSD from it. He slept all day, but would be
up all night. After a while, he kind of gave us this off vibe. He told my parents that
he kept a bunch of guns in his house. Obviously, this worried my parents, so they told me
and my older brother to be careful while playing outside. I've always been pretty empathetic
as a person. I can feel people's energy almost instantly, and I have a pretty good intuition
about what type of person somebody is, and I always felt uneasy about him. I felt that
something was very wrong with him. Whenever I was playing outside, and I saw Mr. Miller,
I would immediately go back inside
the house since I didn't want to be around him.
I need to mention this because it's relevant to the story.
My brother's then-girlfriend had a golden retriever that had a litter of puppies and she let
us pick one out.
We picked one whose name was Tommy.
He was the sweetest dog, and my best friend.
Since he was a golden retriever, he was nice to everybody that he met. My parents had a
gated fence put in our backyard so that Tommy could run around as much as he pleased
as we played outside together. One of the fences had a swinging door that we could get
in and out of. The height of it was short enough to where you could
reach your arm over in Pat Tommy. This door was on the furthest end of the backyard next to
the other neighbor's house. We also had another entrance to the backyard from the inside of our
house. There were French doors in our dining room that went out to the back porch and immediately
to the right was Mr. Miller's backyard.
Now Tommy would bark quite a bit. He mostly barked at the other animals and people running by on the street, as most dogs do. But his barking would get especially bad at night, as I said before Mr. Miller
was regularly up during the night. Thinking back on it now, it makes sense by Tommy barked so much at night.
It was because Tommy could also tell
that something was off about this guy.
I remember one day I had come home from school
and there was a voicemail on our landline phone.
It was from Mr. Miller.
I don't remember exactly what he said,
but it was something to the effect of, if we
didn't get a handle on our dog then, he would call animal control and have him taken
away from us.
This made me very upset, and I was worried that Tommy was going to get taken away.
My parents weren't too happy either, so my dad went over and had a talk with Mr. Miller
about it.
There's one particular instance that happened with Mr. Miller that my mom told me about.
She told me that she had noticed a big tree branch was propped up against Mr. Miller's
side of the fence, which was odd.
She suspected that he was using this branch to poke at Tommy and get him riled up so that
he would have an excuse to call animal control and have him taken away. This was later confirmed when
my grandparents on my mom's side came over one day to feed Tommy while we were gone.
They were standing in the dining room and they saw Mr. Miller standing against the fence
with the tree branch in his hand. Once he noticed them standing there, he said it
back down. Not too long after that, my mom was at home and had to go into the backyard
because she could see that Tommy was visibly upset about something. The fur on his back
and his neck were standing up straight. He was growling. He was in full protective mode.
My mom kept trying to walk towards the fence, but Tommy wouldn't let her.
Then she noticed that Mr. Miller was in his yard standing up against the fence.
When Tommy saw Mr. Miller, he ran to the fence full force and threw himself up against it
so ferociously that it shook the whole entire thing.
My parents decided to set up a camera on a tripod inside the house to try and catch Mr. Miller
in the act of whatever he was doing to Tommy.
We ended up having to give Tommy away to some family friends for different reasons, but
Mr. Miller ended up moving away.
Luckily, we didn't see him again after that.
I'm 30 years old now, and I still think about this childhood memory every so often.
Mr. Miller, although I really hope you ended up getting the help that you so desperately
needed, let's not meet again. I bet you've been hearing about microdosing all over the internet these days.
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Now back to the show.
When this happened I was 18, I'm currently 27.
I grew up in a very bad home situation.
This caused me to move from Washington to Utah with a family who was willing
to help me until I was able to get back on my feet. It was the first time I had ever felt
free. After a couple of weeks of living in Utah, I was able to find a customer service job
working at a car wash. At the time, the family that I was living with lived approximately two miles away from my
new job.
I didn't have my driver's license due to coming out of a strict living situation where
my parents needed to heavily control every aspect of my life.
That being said, I had no other option but to walk to and from work.
I was on my way to work one crisp fall morning.
It was about seven in the morning,
and I was about halfway through my walk to my destination. I was walking past a cemetery
when I suddenly began to hear the sound of crunching leaves behind me. I immediately
began to feel this large pit forming in my stomach, thinking that somebody was following
me. At the same time, my rational brain made, thinking that somebody was following me.
At the same time, my rational brain made me think that I was just being paranoid.
I started to tell myself that this was true, and what I was hearing was probably someone
visiting their departed loved one, so I pushed the feeling of dread deep down inside.
After about ten more minutes of walking, I could still hear footsteps behind
me. Once again, trying not to freak out, I began to think maybe this person could be in a
similar situation as me and doesn't have a car. But then I heard the steps pick up their pace
until they turned into full on running.
In response to a fighter flight, I tend to freeze, so I refused to turn around and I continued
walking.
I then heard a male voice scream, stop walking.
I continued to ignore what was going on behind me and acted like I was completely oblivious,
just listening to music.
The man finally caught up to me and I felt this sharp, painful tug on my arm. I had no
choice but to reluctantly turn and look at him. When I turned, I found that a large man was
breathing heavily through his mouth while staring down at me. You're not an easy one to catch," the man said breathlessly.
In my best customer-surface voice I said,
What do you need help with?
I'm in a huge rush, I can't be late.
Still holding my arm he asked,
Do you have a boyfriend?
I quickly pulled away and yelled,
I'm sorry, I really need to go.
I continued walking quickly until I reached work, feeling relieved, since it seemed like
the man was no longer following me.
Or so I thought.
I carried on with my workday, and nine hours later it was time for me to walk back to
where I was staying.
I changed out of the vans that I wore to work in, and into my walking shoes.
I stepped outside, ready to begin the two-mile journey.
That's when I saw the large man again.
I avoided making eye contact with him and began walking.
I heard footsteps behind me again, but stayed vigilant in my speed and stayed focused on
getting to safety. I had reached the cemetery again when this man,
once again, pulled my arm. He started bombarding me with questions. He was slurring in his speech
clearly on some kind of heavy drugs. I made up an excuse to get out of the conversation,
and I was able to get away from him. For the next six months, I continued to see this man by the cemetery every single day,
until I finally started dating a man who became my husband.
Shortly after we started dating, he began to drive me to work daily.
Eventually, he taught me how to drive, and I got my license in my own car.
I was grateful that shortly after meeting my now husband, I never had to walk by that
cemetery again.
To the large man who was always at the cemetery, and liked to follow a young girl to work,
let's not meet again.
The date was December 6, 2019. At the time I was a 22-year-old woman living in Mississippi,
and I was still attending college. I was living with my older male co-worker that allowed
me to live in his spare bedroom in his townhouse. We'll call him Dean. Dean and I smoked a ton
of weed and drank a ton as well. I trusted him, as he
had never made any moves on me. He spoke to me in a way that created almost a sibling
type of relationship between us. Though most wouldn't believe there to be a possibility
for a girl in her 20s to have that type of relationship with an older male co-worker.
Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a shapely woman, and I often don't make it through the
day without receiving attention or compliments.
With that being said, the men that I was dating at the time didn't trust my living arrangements
whatsoever.
Anyway, like I said, Dean and I were simply co-workers.
Most of our other co-workers also smoked weed.
Honestly, there wasn't much else to safely do in Jackson, Mississippi, given the crime
rate as higher than the national average.
Our co-workers would come over to our place to unwind and talk about how much we hated
our jobs in the city.
On this night in particular, I don't remember the beginning of the evening much because
I was just so high, so very, very high.
People spilled out one by one except for this one coworker, Desmond.
Desmond was close friends with Dean.
Dean had either fallen asleep on the couch or hobbled upstairs to bed, but either way,
Dean was out like a light, and he was a very heavy sleeper.
Desmond and I were playing life is strange, and he kept getting closer to me.
I was still heavily under the influence, so eventually I called it and I went upstairs
to bed.
As soon as I was in bed, I was ready
to drift off to sleep. I then heard Desmond's footsteps coming upstairs. When I heard
him, I asked myself, why is he coming up here? Then something inside of me said, lock
the door. I instantly complied and I jumped up to lock my door. He went to the restroom,
and to reference another podcast that I listened to, something was wrong. He had just been
sitting steps away from a perfectly fine restroom downstairs after all, why did he have to
come upstairs? Alarm bells were going off in my head because I had been assaulted
by a friend of a friend before. This put me right back there and my heart was pounding
in my ears. I was trembling. Desmond came out of the restroom. He then tried to open my
door. No knock or anything. Just one quick turn of the knob, as if he were planning on walking right in.
A moment of silence passed, then there was a light scratching at the door.
He knocked lightly, then louder, and then louder.
I told him, I want to go to sleep, to which he repeatedly said, no
one would have to know, I can make you feel good, it can be between you and me. I just lay
there, weeping quietly, hoping that he would think I was asleep. The next morning, Dean told me that Desmond would not be coming over
for a while as he stole all of the beers, half of the food, and the only working Xbox controller.
Being a woman in a patriarchal society I went on with my life and continued working with
this scum of the earth as if nothing happened. Desmond, you dirtbag, let's never meet again.
Because if we do, I'll give you what you deserve.
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plus free shipping, now back to the show.
This story took place sometime in 2013. I have long since contemplated sharing this story
as it was a traumatic experience for me, however, I believe that maybe through sharing my
story I can prevent others from experiencing the same. I was in my second year of college,
I had just broken up with my first boyfriend.
We dated through high school until my second year of college.
I honestly thought that I was going to be able
to spend my life with him, but it didn't work out.
I was depressed and lonely, and I was doing terrible
in school.
My grades were failing, and I got mixed up
with the wrong crowd.
I was partying and drinking on almost every
single school night. It even got to the point where I was drinking all day instead of going to class.
It was a rough time and I clearly wasn't dealing with the breakup so well.
I lived in a third world country that was and still is full of rebels and bandits. A terrible siege broke out in my city that year.
The rebels had an uprising to overthrow the local government of our city. The entire city was
on a halt. So many casualties occurred, and houses and properties were burned and destroyed by
bombs and bullets. This siege lasted for 20 days, but the city's recovery took even longer.
As the siege was going on, we were all locked in our houses, just tuning into the news,
and listening to the terrifying sounds of bombs and gunfire.
My family and I were lucky that our home was situated near the military base, hence we
were secured.
During this time I was bored out of my mind and trapped at home
while nursing my still broken heart. While I know now that my personal problems were
menial in comparison to everything else going on, it felt like I was falling into a black
hole. This was when I developed a friendship with a guy that I met on Facebook. He lived in a
different city that was two hours away from my city by plane. I had a falling out with most of my friends,
so I only had a few people that I could talk to besides my aunt and her family, with whom
I lived with as my parents were both working abroad. My friendship with this guy on Facebook
started out just as friendly chats and banters, sending
each other memes and whatnot.
I was a little apprehensive at first as my gut told me that something felt off about this
guy.
I eventually asked him to provide me with a photo of him holding some kind of written note that
said my name on it just to confirm his identity.
I gave him 24 hours to send me the photo and let him know that if he failed, I would probably
stop talking to him.
To my surprise and relief, he was able to provide me with the photo that I requested.
This caused me to lower my guard and I decided to give him my phone number.
Warning bells were going off in my head as the voice I heard on the other line
did not sound at all, like the charming guy in the photos. It was very deep and intense,
like it belonged to an older man. But I kept the photos that he sent me in mind, and brushed
off those alarms as paranoia. We continued talking daily through long phone calls and chats, since I was trapped
at home, he provided me with companionship and eased my loneliness. I inevitably fell
in love with him through our constant 24-7 communication.
After two months, school resumed and I saw my friends again. I was able to patch things
up with them and I told them about my new long-distance boyfriend.
This didn't sit well with them.
They tried to keep their opinions on the low, as I was a bit over-sensitive back in those
days.
They knew how my heartbreak nearly destroyed me, and thought that if this new boyfriend
would help me get back on my feet, they'd support it. Another month had passed and my relationship was still ongoing with this long-distance
guy.
I had asked him to video call several times, however, he made several detailed, believable
excuses as to why he could not.
My concerns about being catfished were growing as the days went by, but I brushed it all off.
That is until one day when one of my friends sent me a video of a clip from a popular
noon time show that featured guest contestants every day.
My heart sank as I saw the face of the guy I had been talking to as one of the contestants.
He had a different name and different voice, and
was from a different place. My suspicions were then confirmed.
With so much hurt and disgust, I tried to break it off with this guy, and that's when things
took a turn for the worse. I figured out that he lived in the same area and had been watching
me for weeks without me realizing it. After I figured out the truth about him, he didn't even bother with being
subtle about the fact that he had been stalking me. Then he started blackmailing me with
intimate photos and texts that we exchanged. I wish I knew then what I know now about sharing intimate private photos.
I was so naive.
The school that I was enrolled in was very strict about their students since it was a Catholic
church.
We weren't allowed to participate in competitions with swimsuit portions, and we weren't allowed
to post photos in bikinis, so I knew that if my photos were leaked online, I would
be expelled. And I couldn't get expelled. My mom had been working tirelessly in a foreign
land to pay for my education. I couldn't stand the thought of letting her down. I first
I thought that if I just ignored him, he would eventually stop. But one day, a student approached
me and said that an older guy showed
him a private photo of me and asked him if he knew who I was as I was his girlfriend.
This sent shivers down my spine.
It had finally dawned on me that I needed to take this guy seriously.
I felt like I had to succumb to his demands so that he would delete the photos and finally
leave me alone.
He instructed me to go to a certain place in my city alone.
Though I know how stupid this sounds now, all I had in mind at the time was my mom and
how I didn't want to break her heart.
So I went.
When I arrived, I saw that there were many people around outside, as there was a small
store situated close to his residence. This somehow calmed me and provided me with this false
sense of security. He texted me and instructed me to walk up to his door, open it, and go inside
the house. Which I did. The moment I closed the door behind me, a man emerged, and I heard the door being locked
from outside.
It was a huge man, covered in tattoos, and looked to be in his late 40s.
He looked so terrifying, like he could crush me with his bare hands.
I started to tremble with fear as he slowly approached me.
I knew what was going to befall me at that moment, so I started screaming for help.
Nobody came.
It was as if the herd of people outside of that house were all deaf to my cries.
He gave me a strong punch to the stomach which blacked me out for some time.
I felt everything as I prayed to God.
Once he was done with me and I got my strength back, I slowly composed myself and picked up my bag.
I asked him with a shaky voice if he could delete the photos. But he responded,
I'm not done with you yet. Tears rolled down my cheeks and he continued. You better leave before I keep you locked in here.
I'll see you another day.
I walked out of that house.
There was still a herd of people outside, but upon walking outside it was as if I were
a ghost that nobody could see.
I went straight to my best friend's house and cried my eyes out.
No amount of showering can ever remove the disgust that I felt.
I stayed in her shower for hours.
I had come to know the guy that I had been involved with was a well-known notorious gang
leader.
I did not want to involve my family or the police out of fear of getting expelled or experiencing
retaliation from the gang.
I know, it's stupid.
Luckily my best friend's boyfriend had a friend on the police force.
This policeman was a godsend.
He helped me out with recording my incident as a formal case.
Apparently he was friends with one of the guys in the gang.
He was able to convince this low life to delete my photos and leave me alone. He did so
in order to respect the truth that he and his gang were enjoying with the police. And
with that, I finally had my life back. But it took so many years for me to heal and
move on from this trauma. I wish that I had done things differently. After
this I graduated and moved away from my home country. I'm doing well now, career wise,
but I still struggle with my relationships. If anybody out there has a similar situation,
please don't hesitate to ask for help, be brave and fight back, and don't place your trust
in people too easily, especially when it comes to private
information and photos. Be vigilant. I would like to think that this man was eventually slaughtered
or is dying from a long and painful disease, but no matter where he is now. Let's not meet. Thanks for listening, and if you're a patron, make sure you stick around after the music
for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode.
If you want to get access, head over to patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast.
To sign up and support the show today, you'll get access to all kinds of bonus content.
This week you have heard the axe man by your friendly neighborhood medical man,
a friend of a friend by anonymous, trapped in the turnout by miracle, Mr. Miller by Katie Cole.
He was always at the cemetery by Shavon. No one will have to know by something simple and finally catfished by a gang leader by
anonymous pleas.
All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission
of the respective authors.
Let's not meet a true horror podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message
boards online.
Make sure you send your stories in to let's not meet stories at gmail.com if you'd like
to hear them on the show.
Finally make sure you check out the new episodes of all my other podcasts.
Odd Trails, my true paranormal podcast, welcome to Paradise Fits Sucks,
and the Old Time Radiocast all at crypticcountypodcasts.com.
Or wherever you get your podcasts. We'll see you all next week. Everyone, stay safe. Oh, hello. Meet Optima Health, your friend for Medicaid coverage. Like any true friend,
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