Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 12x16: The Old Nun And The Man Upstairs

Episode Date: April 15, 2024

Don't miss our next Let's Not Meet Live Stream on Saturday, May 4th at 7:00 PDT at twitch.tv/crypticcounty. Follow now so you don't miss it when we go live! Stories in this episode: The Old Nun and The Man Upstairs | MaddiNukem (1:20) Cable Company Creeps | itsamaysing (13:00) The Last Summer I Worked As Beach Security. | TrevChar (16:19) Our Pharmacist Saved My Mother and Sister | meemnoon (27:46) Santa Imposters | Chilling Nightmares (31:39) Paramedic Story Time (I Love You) | Thezombiemedic (39:32) Extended Patreon Content: 2 Stories | Anie I Was on That Greyhound Bus | Katia Armed With Meth and a Shovel | Grace Stalked Going to the Bus Stop | KJ It Was So Sudden | Cassie C. Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. Follow: - Twitch - https://twitch.tv/crypticcounty - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com/ - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ Check out the other Cryptic County podcasts like Odd Trails and the Old Time Radiocast at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts!    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! 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 [e-mail]. Refuel smarter with IQBAR’s Ultimate Sampler Pack. That’s 7 IQBARs, 4 IQMIX sticks, and 4 IQJOE sticks. Our listeners get 20%f all IQBAR products and FREE shipping by texting MEET to 64-000. Make a bigger impact at work with Grammarly. Sign up and download for FREE at grammarly.com/PODCAST. 

The Lexus five-day event is on now at Don Valley North Lexus. Lease the RX350F Sport Series 1 from just $6.98 per month for 24 months at 0.9%. Plus, interest rate reductions of up to 2% on select 2024 Lexus models. Wayne's reward members can save even more. Offer ends April 20th. At Don Valley North, Don Valley North for Lexus. If you missed the previous live Let's Not Meet shows up north, don't worry, we're currently working on locking down dates around the states for 2024. I'll keep you updated along the way.

But until then, don't forget to mark your calendars for May 4th so you don't miss our next livestream episode of Let's Not Meet. I'll be there with the whole gang of podcast guests to share some of our creepiest stories live at 7pm Pacific at twitch.tv slash cryptic county. Follow us now so that you don't miss it when we go live. We're going to have guests from Drinking the Kool-Aid, Scary You to Sleepsleep knife point horror, and that's why we drink and more to be confirmed. Again, that's May 4th, 7pm Pacific, at twitch.tv slash cryptic county. Oh, and don't forget, this podcast contains adult language and content. Listener discretion is advised.

If you have a story to share, send it to letsnotmeetstories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. My great aunt lived alone in a small two-story cape house, one town over from me and my mom. My grandfather had built the house for her sometime in the 1940s. Upstairs she had a tiny spare bedroom in a small office space that she used for writing. My great aunt was a nun and teacher and would often write letters to friends and former students. She also worked on a book of her stories a lot, but she never quite finished it. My mother and I would visit her from time to time to help take care of chores in and around the house as the years went on.

When I left for college, my mom started visiting her more often. While I was away, my great aunt started showing signs of dementia that progressed steadily. It started with her telling the same stories for the thousandth time, so my mom and I already knew them well. There was one story that she told fairly often that started when she and my grandfather were kids but it somehow resolved when she was an adult. Basically, she would combine two unrelated stories into one, which would leave her confused as she was telling it.

She also started forgetting to eat and take her meds. She would also crank up the heat in the summer to the point where she would be dehydrated. Some days were worse than others, so when I finished college, we started visiting nearly daily, as she absolutely refused to go into any kind of assisted living home. We set her up with meals on wheels and asked some of her friends, neighbors, and former neighbors to come by so we weren't the only ones visiting her. My mother and I convinced her to start writing in the kitchen rather than upstairs to prevent

a fall on the steps. Without a reason to go upstairs, we shut off the second floor heaters and kept the overpainted, squeaky door to the stairs closed. Sometimes when we would go over there to visit, we would find the door cracked open, but my great aunt insisted that she didn't go up there anymore. We didn't think much of this, since we weren't the only ones stopping by. We figured maybe somebody fetched something upstairs and forgot to close the door. Again, my great aunt was a nun, so around the holidays, she would roll out the more

religious stories of hers, and she talked about God a lot. One day when I was visiting her alone, she started reflecting on her life, mortality, and when the man upstairs was going to come for her. I changed the subject, as it was rather uncomfortable. But over time, she started talking more about when she would die. He's going to come for me soon, she said. I don't know when the man upstairs will do it, but I know he will. Trying to reassure her, I replied,

Auntie, I'm sure you have many years left. God isn't coming to take you any time soon. Then I watched as the most serious expression I've ever seen on her washed over her sweet old face. She clarified, No, not God. I didn't say God. I said the man upstairs. Around this point in time, her dementia had advanced to the point where she started seeing things,

like flashes or spiders that weren't there, and she talked about a little boy living in her room that only she could see. She even talked about him when my mom and I were visiting, so I just chalked all of this man upstairs talk to her dementia. Later that week, snow fell, so after shoveling myself out at my house, I went to my great aunt's to shovel her walkway for my mom who was planning to visit later. After shoveling, I called my great aunt from my warm car so that she would know it was taken care of. I also said that I wasn't coming in because I had to work and she thanked me. As I pulled away, I noticed that I had forgotten the rock salt I used on the walkway, so I

quickly circled the block and went back to pick it up. As I was reaching for it, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A light on the second floor and the old writing office had turned on. I glanced at the light quickly and then pretended that I didn't see it. So I got into my car and headed to work, but as I drove away I confirmed in my rearview mirrors that the light was on upstairs. I called my mom and asked, Can you call Auntie and see if she has any company over?

Don't say that it was me who asked and let me know how long it takes for her to pick up the phone. My mom hung up with me, called my great aunt, and then called me back almost immediately. No, she doesn't have any company over, not this early, and she picked up right away. Mom, you need to call the police.

The light upstairs turned on after I talked to her. There is no way a 95 year old lady hung up, hustled upstairs, then back down to pick up your call. I explained this as it was impossible as there was no phone hooked up to the second floor. As my mom called the police, I called my auntie. Hi, auntie. I almost forgot. You have a doctor's appointment today.

I'm coming back to pick you up. We can grab a hot chocolate before we go to the doctor. Then I turned around, went back to her house, and parked in the front. When I went inside, I acted as normally as I could. It felt like an eternity helping her put her house coat on and get her out the door. As I turned the lock, I heard footsteps above us in the second floor room where I saw the light turn on. I helped her into my car, never looking back at the house as I was too scared for what or who I would see in the window.

We drove the road a bit, and I called my mom. She was already on her way over and said that the police would be arriving shortly, so I told her where I parked. She got there and the police weren't far behind her. I flagged down the cop before he got closer to my great aunt's house and told him what I saw and heard. He radioed for two more cars and my mom stayed with my great aunt to help keep her calm as police surrounded her house.

I gave them the keys to the doors. Two went in and a third cop stayed outside. After a few tense minutes, the officers emerged from the house with the disheveled, gaunt man in handcuffs. Oh, the man upstairs! There he is! My great auntie said to my mother, as they watched the officers fight to get this crazed man into the back of one of the cruisers. It turns out my great aunt had let this man in, thinking that he was with meals on wheels. Ever since she let him in, he had been secretly living upstairs. When we were allowed back in the house, we saw that the upstairs was completely wracked.

There was lots of garbage and rotting food that was stolen from the kitchen. The amount of filth that was up there was scary. The creepiest things were the notes. There were many, maybe hundreds, and pencil and different inks scrawled around the writing office window that overlooked her walkway. The notes said, Go away. Don't stay.

I'll come down. The back of the door to the stairs had notes on it, too. I remember a few that said, "'She can see me, but you don't.' And I can see you." It was clear he had probably written these notes each time somebody visited over the past few weeks, possibly even months. My great aunt was temporarily shocked, but it was quickly forgotten given her condition,

and she slowly asked about the man upstairs less and less. The man, who was in poor physical and mental health himself, was hospitalized and passed away a few weeks later in the winter. He had escaped the hospital, but his body was found a few days later. He died having succumbed to exposure to the cold. My mom and I told Auntie about this when we found out. Oh, I know, she acknowledged. He told me last night.

He's upstairs again, but you can't see him now. At just that instant, my mom and I heard the door to the stairs squeak open. We checked just in case, but there was nobody upstairs. The door creaking open at that exact moment just happened to be very, very spooky timing. I've always had trouble not only deciding what to eat for breakfast, but also making the time to prepare it, and just praying that it doesn't make me feel like garbage right at the start of my day. Breakfast and pre-workout food used to be a hassle, but not anymore since I found out about IQ Bar.

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That's seven IQ bars, four IQ Mixed Sticks, and four IQ Joe Sticks. And now our special podcast listeners get 20% off all IQ Bar products, plus get free shipping. To get your 20% off, just text MEET to 64,000 to get your discount. Text MEET to 64,000. That's MEET to 64,000. Message and data rates may apply. See terms for details. Now back to the show. When I was in my early 20s, I lived in an apartment with my mom, brother, and my two sons who were toddlers at the time.

The guy who lived next door was about 60. He worked for the cable company, and he had always given off some seriously creepy vibes. When we were upgrading our internet, another guy who worked for the same cable company came to do the installation. If I thought my neighbor was creepy, he had nothing on this guy. I was in and out while he was there that day, but every time we were in the same room he would stare at me with a weird look on his face for an uncomfortable amount of time. The day following the installation was a Saturday and my creepy neighbor was having a little

get-together. To my dismay, the creep who had done our installation was at the party. It was clear that they were drinking all day as they were getting louder and more obnoxious as the day wore on. A little after 8 p.m., both my mom and brother left, leaving me alone with my two young sons. Around 8.30, there was a knock on my door, and when I opened it, there stood the creepy cable installation guy. He was clearly intoxicated, and he said that he had forgotten to have my mom sign some documents. I said it was no problem, and I offered to sign them, so he took a step forward in an

attempt to enter my apartment, but I positioned myself so that he couldn't get in. I told him that I'd just sign whatever he needed, but he pointed towards the kitchen and said that he had given my mom the documents and they were in the house. Then he pushed the door aggressively and tried to step inside my apartment once again. This time, I made a more forceful block. He then turned his head to the left and said something to somebody. I moved just enough to see who he was talking to, and it was my creepy neighbor who was

standing with his back pressed up against the wall in front of my apartment so that he was out of my line of sight. I quickly stepped back, shut the door, and locked it, leaving them both outside. I then saw them walk away. I knew that the situation was super shady, but the full shadiness of it didn't occur to me until I was telling my family about what happened. Why would this guy need documents that he left with my mom to be signed so desperately past eight at night?

Why would he come for something like that after he had been drinking? Why did they wait to come over until moments after my mom and brother left? Were they staking out the apartment? And why was my neighbor trying to conceal himself? I'm so glad that my creep radar was on full alert that night because it really scares me to think about what might have happened if I had let that I worked for my lake community during the summer season for as long as I remember. The job tasks I completed ranged from dishwasher to maintenance worker to boat tender and more. My last and longest job working in this community was when I was doing beach security. The lake had a small beach with a building structure that consisted of a game room, a

restaurant, a small hotel, and a lobby for guests of the hotel and the restaurant. There was also a deck overlooking the beach. Part of my job was to check the guests of the beach in to make sure they were members who paid their community dues. During check-in, I would also enforce the rules that applied to the whole area. I would get a lot of flack on the job from complaining people, crusty teens, and other folks who were there for the summer.

It all came with the drama that you would see on a CW teen drama show. This story, in particular, took place during the summer and fall of 2011. I graduated college and I promised myself that this would be the last year I would work for the community since I was tired of the drama and I was ready to find a real job. To bank more money from the season, I took the position of doing night duty as beach security. For night duty, I would monitor the property for three hours after the game room and restaurant closed at 11 p.m. I would monitor the property for three hours after the game room and restaurant closed

at 11pm. I would patrol the beach and make sure that nobody was trespassing on the property. Night duty was generally pretty quiet, so I would mostly just walk the property, then return to the lobby area to watch some TV and play on my Nintendo DS until my shift was over. 98% of the time, this shift would come and go without any incident, but sometimes I would see the occasional deer, raccoon, fox, or black bear saunter onto the deck. When this happened, I would have to ask people to steer clear of the area and or call community

security for assistance. I should mention that I am an unarmed security guard and I didn't own anything for self-defense at the time of this story. One night in July, I was watching Adult Swim on TV. I was sitting with my back to the sliding glass door that led out to the deck. The show I was watching went to commercials, so the TV screen briefly went black. When that happened, I saw on the reflection of the TV screen that somebody was standing on the deck. They were essentially just standing there and looking at the back of my head.

I immediately jolted up and turned to the figure to stare back at them. This man was about 5'8". He was wearing a dirty black hoodie that had a white Adidas logo on it. He also had navy blue basketball shorts and white sneakers. His hood was pulled up so I couldn't make out his face, He also had navy blue basketball shorts and white sneakers. His hood was pulled up so I couldn't make out his face, but I could tell that he was male with bright red hair that was poking out from underneath the hood. I couldn't tell how old he was, but he seemed a bit younger than I was at the time. He was just standing there, swaying slightly, and he had his hands in his pockets.

Although he was looking at me, it felt more like he was looking through me, since he seemed a bit out of it or something. It took me a second to collect myself before I could walk over to the glass door to see what he wanted. When I slid the door open, I said, "'Hello, sir, I'm sorry, but the beach and deck are closed for the night. I have to ask you to leave the property and come back when we're open.'" After a long pause, he asked,

"'And when will that be?' He was very monotone, but he seemed tired and jittery. I answered, "'That will be eight o'clock in the morning,' he replied. "'Okay, can I come in and use the bathroom?' I could tell that something was off about this guy from the start, before I even opened the door to talk to him. I've dealt with drunks and otherwise intoxicated people, but I felt that something was much

more off about this guy. I couldn't discern what it was exactly, but I knew that I didn't want any part of it. I said, I'm sorry, sir, but no one is allowed in here unless they're guests of the hotel or restaurant, which is closed for the night. I'll have to ask you to please leave the beach." I could tell that he was a bit annoyed by what I said, but his body language barely changed. After a bit of hesitation, he finally scoffed.

Fine. I guess I'll find somewhere else to go to the bathroom. Then he walked off. I made it a point to follow him off the deck and watch him walk away to ensure that he actually left. But instead of heading up the road, as I expected him to, he veered off into the woods. He was out of my sight once he crossed the treeline, but I could hear him dragging his feet through the brush and sticks. After that, I walked back to the lobby, locked the door behind myself, and called dispatch

to report the incident. I asked the community security to keep an eye out for the guy. Then, 2 a.m. rolled around, so I locked everything up, armed the security system, and left. I started to drive out of the beach area and as I turned left, a balloon full of this red liquid stuff flew from the woods and slammed against the passenger side window. I was startled so I floored it out of there immediately. I wasn't going to get out then and there to see what happened and only lived five minutes away from the beach So I just kept driving

When I got home, I checked out the damage My passenger side door was covered in red paintball paint The impact from the throw of the balloon filled with this stuff was enough to dent my door. I Called community security again and let them know what happened. I asked them to keep their eyes out and check the area for the guy. The next day, community security told me that they didn't see anybody out there, but they did receive several reports of the same thing happening to other residents' cars or houses. I was pissed, but also unnerved.

Things calmed down after that, and time passed. Then it was fall. The beach was closed for the season, but the community still needed a night guard to make sure that no one disturbed or vandalized the property. It was the week of Halloween, and it was also my last night on the job since I got a new job working at a much better place. I had gone to a Halloween party during the day and went all out as Jason Voorhees with the machete that I got from Walmart.

I was wrapping up for the night, so I was just sitting outside of my car, talking my friend's ear off on my cell phone. As I was talking, I could hear some leaves rustling and twigs snapping in the woods behind the dumpster. I told my friend that I had to go, and I hung up. This was my dumb person in a horror movie moment, because I walked slightly closer to where the noise was coming from. The area was dark but slightly lit by the lights in the parking lot.

As I was watching, the same guy I saw back in July emerged from the woods behind the dumpster. His hood was down so I could see that his hair was longer. His natural brown roots were longer than the bright red dye that was left on the ends. When he saw me, he began to walk up to me fast. He was growling, and his face was plastered with pure rage. He had a black iron pipe in his right hand, and he was swinging it while he came at me. He was covering the distance between us so quickly I ran to my car and I quickly opened my back passenger door since it was the door closest to me. I grabbed the machete that I bought for

the party and I raised it over my head and stood my ground. I was filled with so much adrenaline that I have no idea what I said to him, but I know that I cursed a lot. He stopped in his tracks and stood there for a bit. After I yelled and shook the machete a bit more, he turned around and went back into the woods from where he came. As soon as he left my sight, I got the hell out of there. After this, not only did I call community security, but the police as well. By the time anyone got there to check things out, he was nowhere to be found. I have since moved away

from that late community, and I haven't heard anything new about the man, and nothing else has happened. I now carry a knife and I still have the same machete from the Halloween party in my car, just in case. Brainstorming ideas, sending out reports, checking in on projects, all of this stuff is exhausting. But we all have to do it. I often find that I get what I call communication fatigue towards the end of the week. And no matter what kind of work you do, communication is key.

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for her breast cancer. We lived in a very quiet town where the residential areas had small markets. If we needed anything else, like something from a pharmacy, we had to go to the main market which was almost three and a half miles from our house. The main road leading to the main market was one and a half miles from our apartment building and the main market was two miles up the road. My mother was going through some tough times given my father's complete disconnect with us. She used to call her brother, my uncle, for advice or catharsis.

At this time we didn't have a house phone and my uncle lived in another city, so for her to make those calls she had to go to the public call office which we refer to as the PCO. The PCO was run by two weird men and it was located in the same market that had the pharmacy where my mother would buy her medicines. One evening my mother went to the PCO along with my 17-year-old sister since she wanted to call my uncle to talk to him. I don't remember why she wanted to call my uncle exactly, but I think that my father

asked her to leave the house since she wanted to call my uncle exactly, but I think that my father asked her to leave the house since she wanted to discuss her problems. She was in distress, so it was a rather long phone call. My mother was so wrapped up in talking to my uncle that she didn't realize how late it had gotten until she finished the call. The market was closed, and so was the public transport, so my mom paid the bill for her phone usage at the PCO and she and my sister started to walk home on the path next to the main road. After my mom paid, the two PCO owners quickly closed the PCO and started following them. These guys stayed on their tails. They were only

about a foot away, right behind them. They were enlisting and offering them a ride. One of the men was walking and the other was on a bicycle. The one on the bike pedaled up next to my mother and sister on the deserted main road and kept pressuring them. My mother strictly refused as she held my sister's hand tightly and started walking as fast as she could. And then a white van appeared on the service road and started driving slowly next to them. It was clear that the PCO guys had already arranged a quote-unquote ride for them and their intentions could not be good. The van rolled right by them slowly since they were waiting for them to get off the main road before they struck.

On the next turn, two men appeared from the opposite side of the footpath and to my mother's relief, it was the pharmacist and his friend. They were returning from picking his car up from the shop. The pharmacist and his friend saw the men and the van and immediately realized what was going on. They stopped, said hello, and asked if she needed help. The PCO guys and the van fled immediately. The pharmacist and his friend agreed to walk my mother and sister home. The kind pharmacist made sure that my mother and sister arrived safely at our house,

and my mother never went to that PCO ever again. Do you remember going to the mall to sit on Santa's lap and telling him everything that you wanted for Christmas? Most kids have happy memories of this, but my only trip to Santa's Village became a nightmare. I was five years old and I remember it to this day as it's one of my earliest memories. It still gives me anxiety after 20 years. I have two sisters, Connie and Mary, and one brother, Sammy. Of the three girls, I was the youngest, my brother was younger than me. He was three. One day, our mom decided to take us to Santa's village to see Santa Claus. With the four of us in tow, my mom had her hands full trying to control all of

us. My little brother was the most difficult one because when she let go of his hand, even for a second, he would blast off. So my mom always had to be holding on to him. My sister Mary insisted that Mom also hold her hand while my oldest sister Connie watched over me. Connie was eight at the time. Connie and I walked together, but I wouldn't let her hold my hand since I wanted to be a big girl and walk independently.

When we got to the mall, my mom parked at the back. Santa's Village was in the rotunda at the front entrance, but we had a long walk to get there. The mall was jam-packed with people and kids running everywhere. As we entered the mall, Connie ran ahead of our mom along with Mary and Sammy to get in line for Santa. Connie was ahead of me when I ran past a storefront with so many Christmas decorations covering the windows that I couldn't see inside. The gate covering the entrance was down almost to the floor, and I could hear Christmas music inside, so I bent down to look in. To my absolute delight,

I saw that there was a Christmas wonderland with animatronics of reindeer and snowmen with kids throwing snowballs. And there were giant candy canes, as tall as I was. I stooped down to walk under the gate and then skipped through the wonderland of twinkling colored lights until I came upon a gingerbread house. I pushed the door open, and there sat Santa Claus. I was ecstatic. He looked at me and said, Come on, child, sit on my knee. Tell me your Christmas wishes.

I flew into his lap and spoke nonstop about what I wanted for Sammy, Mary, Connie, and myself. When I finished, I said I was going to go back to my family. I tried to get off of his lap, but he held me close, so close that I couldn't even breathe. He insisted, No, you're going to stay with me. I panicked and screamed, so he released me, and I ran back through the maze until I reached the gate at the entrance of the store again. When I made it out, my mom was there looking for me. I cried and said that I found Santa, but I was stuck with him for a bit since he wouldn't let me go.

She called mall security, and they called the store manager of that store, who said that they were not even open. The manager also said that there was no Santa hired by the store. The imposter Santa was nowhere to be found by the time anyone investigated the gingerbread house inside the store. This encounter set up my aversion to Santa, and then this next Santa encounter pushed me over the edge. My family had Christmas at my grandpa's house.

All my cousins would come from Chicago, Oakwood, and Kettering since we had a big family. Grandpa decorated the living room with a giant Christmas tree and tons of lights. Under the tree, there were presents for all of us with our names on them. A big armchair was placed in front of the fireplace facing the living room. It had a side table next to it with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. We all knew it was set out for Santa's arrival. We never knew when he would arrive, but we always listened for the sounds of reindeer and bells on the roof. My cousin Dave kept watch at the living room window, looking for Rudolph's red nose in

the sky. He shouted every ten minutes that he saw Rudolph and Santa was coming. However, Grandpa's house was on the flight path to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, so all Dave kept reporting were the red-wing lights of landing aircraft. Meanwhile, the rest of us ran around the house, sneaking cookies that Grandma had set out in the kitchen. We were being rambunctious. But then, there it was. We heard the unmistakable sound of reindeer on the roof and the clatter of a sleigh landing on the rooftop. The ringing of sleigh bells was so clear. Then we heard the booming voice of Santa. Stop, Dasher. Stop, Dancer. Stop, Prancer. Vixen,

Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen. I knew that it was my Uncle Bill, but the younger cousins did not. So we stood there, eyes fix, and Blitzen. I knew that it was my Uncle Bill, but the younger cousins did not. So we stood there, eyes fixated on the front door, waiting for Santa to appear. As soon as he did, we all ran to greet him, screaming, Santa's here! While the sound effects were courtesy of Uncle Bill, I knew that Santa was Grandpa. But again, the younger kids didn't. So, they grabbed his hand, led him to the armchair by the fire, and helped him take a seat while offering,

Here's some milk and cookies for you, Santa. He drank the big glass of milk and ate two cookies, then lifted my youngest cousin up onto his knee. Then Aunt Helen passed Santa the correct gift from under the tree. I couldn't keep my eyes off of Santa. I kept looking at him. He didn't look like Grandpa to me. Our Grandpa had this beautiful smile, but this Santa Claus seemed to have terrible teeth

under his billowy beard. Then came my cousin Charlie's turn. He's a prankster. So when Santa lifted him up on his knee, he grabbed his beard and gave it a yank to uncover Grandpa, who would have generally had a hearty laugh about this. But when Charlie pulled the beard down, it wasn't Grandpa. It was the beaten face of some other man. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot. His cheeks were purple from the blue veins that spider-webbed across his face and boldest nose.

Everybody screamed, and Santa bolted upright, dumping Charlie on the floor, then scrambled to the front door, leaving it wide open as he made a hasty escape. We all went outside where we found Grandpa stripped of his Santa suit. He was unconscious in the garage where he had been attacked. He was fine, and we called the police, but the other Santa was never found. I have had a fear of Santa ever since. Changing a light bulb should be simple. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Uh-oh, that's not supposed to happen.

Quickly submitting and tracking a claim on the BelAir Direct app actually is simple. BelAir Direct, insurance simplified. I've been a paramedic for about 10 years. My entire career has been spent in emergency medicine, responding to 911 calls, and providing advanced life support for life-threatening illnesses and injuries. The calls we respond to range from inappropriate use of an ambulance to minutes away from death and oftentimes it's already too late. This is the only story I have a hard time sharing and eventually you'll find out why.

I had been working for a couple of years as a paramedic after I graduated from school. I was primarily working in the city, but our service area was the entire county, which had some rural and residential areas. While going to school to be a paramedic, students participate in ride-alongs. This gives them time to practice their skills and have exposure to what happens on the job with the preceptor. It's very similar to residency or internship. On ride-alongs, sometimes you encounter seriously injured patients, and it's terrifying because

you're still learning. You don't always know what to do, but you have your preceptor on your side guiding you and protecting you from making crucial errors. And sometimes you don't get to experience some of the more intense situations. To some, this may seem like a good thing, but it's important to experience escalated scenarios as it better prepares you for when you're on your own. There are a couple of terms we use. They're called white cloud and black cloud.

A white cloud refers to a person, either a student or professional, who never gets called out for serious calls. This could be for a number of reasons. Maybe your shift is ending. Or you're not within reasonable distance of the call, so another ambulance reports to the scene. A black cloud is the opposite. When I was in school, I was a white cloud,

and the white cloud continually hung over my head for a couple of years into my career. One Christmas Eve, the day before the event we're going to talk about, I was working a 24-hour shift. I worked from 7 a.m. Christmas Eve until 7 a.m. Christmas Day. From what I remember, the day was pretty slow. Most people weren't outside getting into accidents

or causing mischief since they were with their families. I was working with the charge medic at the time as well as a brand new EMT who was going through his field orientation process with us. A few of my co-workers had made a Christmas dinner that day so we all had hot food to enjoy while we had to work and be away from our families. At our station we had two ambulances with two crews. They were myself, my partner, the new EMT, and the other crew. After a quieter than usual day, a call came into our station.

The two crews were rotating calls so that everyone had a chance to rest or sleep a little bit between calls. It was around 11pm and I was sitting in the recliner watching TV. A call came into our station that required us to respond further out in the county. It was the other crew's turn, but one of the guys on the other crew, who was a friend of mine, was asleep in the recliner next to me, so I went ahead and took the call. The call was initially for a woman who had fallen and hit her head, but she was conscious and breathing. Due to the nature of the injury, we responded urgently and it was probably about a 15-minute

drive to get to the person's house. As we were getting close, dispatch informed us that now the patient was not conscious, but still breathing. As we approached the residence, we drove down the street and there were flashing lights everywhere. Sheriff's deputies, police, the fire department, everyone was there. Some were even blocking the entrance to the street. For a situation that seemed to be just a simple head injury, we thought that that was pretty weird, and it set a weird vibe for us from the start. One of the deputies saw us arriving, so he moved his car to allow us to come through.

Once we got through, the street ended in a cul-de-sac with houses all around it. People were standing on the front porches, looking at what was going on as we arrived at the address indicated on the call. There was a vehicle parked in the driveway, still running with officers surrounding it. The driver's side door was open, and there was an officer standing there who appeared to be talking to somebody sitting in the driver's seat. I walked up with my partner in the new EMT behind us. As I approached the back of the vehicle, I saw that there was somebody sitting inside. There was also a man, middle-aged, standing in front of the vehicle.

The lower half of his body was illuminated by the car's headlights. He had his hands in his pockets, and he was looking rather intently at the person in the vehicle. I approached the officer to get the report from him. While the officer was telling me what was going on, I looked at the person in the driver's seat of the car. The person was a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties to fifties, sitting back with her head against the headrest and her

arms hung down by her side. I could visibly see her breathing and hear her moaning, but she wasn't talking. Her eyes were closed. There was a bit of blood running down her head past her cheeks and down her chin. There was also a small stream of blood coming from her nose. The officer told me that she was inside with the family when she came outside to get something from the car. The officer gestured towards the man standing in front of the car as he said that the woman's

husband had come out to check on her because he noticed that she had been out here for a while. When the husband saw his wife bleeding, he figured she must have fallen or hit her head somehow and he called 911. The officer told me that the woman had not been responding to him, but I still attempted to speak to the woman. She didn't answer me either, but continued to moan so I performed a sternum rub to cause painful stimuli in hopes of getting some sort of reaction.

But there was none. I asked the husband if she had been drinking or if she abused any drugs that he knew of. He said that she had a few glasses of wine, but there was no drug use. At this point, I thought that she had a head injury or, potentially, a brain bleed because she wasn't responding appropriately. I stood where the officer was standing in the frame of the driver's side door as I performed my assessment I Couldn't see where the blood was coming from so I figured there was a laceration or something in her hair that wasn't visible Then the officer came up to me and said we also found this in the driver's side door

compartment. He produced a revolver. I looked at the officer and the revolver. He looked at me and held it out. I grabbed it, flipped out the cylinder, and at the same time thought to myself, oh fuck. In the cylinder there was one brass casing, with the primer indented, meaning a round had been fired. With this new information, and based on the bleeding, I assumed the patient had put the

gun to her temple or something like that. The fact that she was still breathing and making noises led me to assume that she missed or the bullet miraculously bounced off of something if she had held it at a weird angle. Due to the potential of significant head trauma, I decided that we needed to place a cervical collar on the woman in case of spinal injury. I asked one of the firefighters to grab the collar out of the ambulance. I then opened the back door of the vehicle and got behind the woman so that I could hold

her head stable as the fireman placed the collar on her. It was only when I did this that I saw what was really going on. As I slid behind the patient, I saw the back of her head. It was something that I would never be able to unsee. I looked at the back of her head and I found a grapefruit-sized hole. With my flashlight, I looked at the hole, and it was almost empty, with the exception of a large piece of her skull which was floating on top of a blood and brain soup. I looked up, and on the headliner of the vehicle there was a halo of blood, about two feet

in diameter, painted above her. There were tiny pieces of skull stuck into the fabric. I looked back at the grapefruit-sized hole again. It was a chilly night, so I could see heat vapors emanating from the hole, similar to how you would be able to see your breath. I looked at my partner and said, we need to go now. He peeked inside the vehicle to see what I was seeing.

His eyes grew wide, and all that he said was, holy shit. The new EMT quickly went to the ambulance and grabbed the stretcher and backboard. We were trying to get her out of the vehicle carefully and slowly, but we needed to get her going, so it turned into… just get her out of the vehicle. The EMT also grabbed me a large trauma dressing with some gauze wraps. I placed the trauma dressing over the hole and wrapped the ever-loving shit out of it

around her head so that nothing would spill out. With the help of the fire department and the police, we moved the woman onto the backboard and put her on the stretcher. The whole time, the husband had been standing at the front of the vehicle watching, not even understanding what was happening. As we got the woman onto the stretcher, he came over, and I saw that he now had tears on his face. He bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and said, I love you. We then quickly got the woman into the ambulance. Due to the woman's injury, her cerebrum, the largest part of the brain, was almost completely

gone, meaning she had no motor function, no muscle tone, and no cognitive abilities. Her brain stem, however, was still intact. The bullet missed it. The brain stem is what controls the body's autonomic functions, like respiratory rate, heart rate, and blood pressure. Due to this, when we moved the woman to the stretcher, her tongue fell against the back of her oral airway, causing a blockage. I knew that this was going to this, when we moved the woman to the stretcher, her tongue fell against the back of her oral airway, causing a blockage. I knew that this was going to happen, so I had my partner set up the intubation supplies for me. Then we started transporting her to the hospital.

I gave them a heads up in order to alert the trauma team. After the call, we went back to the station to clean up and restock the ambulance. That's when I saw all the bits of bone and blood on my pants and shirt. Luckily the charge medic let me go home, take a shower, and put on a new uniform. After I changed, I went back to work and the rest of the shift was uneventful. I learned that next morning, around 9 a.m., that the woman's family had decided to remove life support. She passed away. For many years after that call, I didn't notice a change. I kept doing what I do best, and I never really thought that I had been affected

by it until I realized I was. A couple of years ago, I had a bad relationship that made me start thinking about myself and how I am. In my relationship, I realized how angry I always was. I'm not saying I was a mean person. I wasn't mean to my partner, but very simple, stupid things would set me off. I had a bad temper. And what I thought was a stomach problem, it was anxiety, and, to top it all off, I

was and still am very cynical of the world. Upon this realization, I decided I wanted to figure out what caused me to be this way. I wanted to figure out why I think this way, why I act this way. I wanted to figure out why I think this way, why I act this way. So I decided to see a psychologist. After many months of visits, my psychologist diagnosed me with PTSD. I hated it. I hated being categorized as somebody with PTSD. It didn't make sense to me since I thought that I could handle anything. But during those visits, as we conversed, the one thing that kept coming up was that specific call. I didn't realize how much it affected me.

I also didn't realize how much of a wall I built to shut everyone out. The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that it makes sense. Now, the reason I tell this story the way that I do, with graphic detail, is because I think that everybody needs to understand how mental health not only affects a single person but everyone around them. Which brings me to my next point. One of the, if not the, number one cause of death and first responders is suicide. If you're someone who has thought about or attempted suicide in the past,

you need to know that taking your life doesn't only affect you. You may think it will be better this way, but I assure you, it won't. If you think that no one will care, I guarantee you people will. I care. So find someone, anyone to talk to, and just be honest.

Let them know how you're feeling. I know it's hard. It was for me, but it gets better. You just have to try. If anyone you know struggles with mental health issues, reach out. Be an ear. You don't have to try and solve their problems. Just listen.

And if you listen, you just may hear something that can help save someone's life. And if you struggle with mental health issues yourself and think there's no one for you to talk to, you're wrong. It can be a professional or it can be a person you consider a close friend or a relative. If you feel like none of these options work for you, especially if you're considering doing something dangerous, go to your local emergency room. Call 911 because that's what we're here for. Even if you don't know what to say, we're trained in how to deal with people in these situations. All of us. The number for the National Suicide Hotline is

1-800-273-8255. You can call from anywhere at any time. They're available for anyone in crisis or emotional distress. Please don't let medical professionals meet you when it's too late. There is always somebody to talk to. Thanks for listening and don't forget to follow us at twitch.tv slash cryptic county. So you'll be notified when we go live on May 4th at 7pm pacific for our live Let's Not Meet episode. And if you're a patron, 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 ad free versions of all of our episodes at a higher bit rate and hours and hours of bonus content with stories you won't hear anywhere else. Again that's patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast. This week you have heard the old nun and the man upstairs by Maddie Newcomb. Cable company creepeps by It's Amazing The Last Summer I Worked as Beach Security by Trev Char

Our Pharmacist Saved My Mother and Sister by Meme Noon Santa Impostors by Chilling Nightmares and finally Paramedic Storytime, I Love You by The Zombie Medic. 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. Make sure you send your stories to letsnotmeetstoriesatgmail.com if you'd like to hear them on the show.

And finally, make sure you check out the new episodes of my other podcasts like Odd Trails, my true paranormal podcast, and the old time radio cast at crypticcountypodcasts.com. Everyone stay safe. We'll see you next week. I have two stories to share with you.