Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 13x06: An Obscene Phone Call and The Bloody Man

Episode Date: August 5, 2024

Stories in this episode: Burglar in a Halloween mask | Jaybo99 (0:41) Under the Overpass | missxlita (7:08) Pretty Sure My Wife Was Almost A Trafficking Victim | Lucifer_Stocking (12:03) She Was Covered in Blood | Annon3241S (17:22) I Was Scouted by a Professional Hitman | CommutingTurtle (24:00) An Obscene Phone Call and The Bloody Man | Best-Influence9484 (27:38) Man Watching Us in Cornfield | garland1988 (31:52) The Time a Raging Customer Stalked Me | rblchld (36:42) Woke Up in My Hotel Room With a Man Standing Over Me | Bookish-Broad (48:38) Bonus Patreon Content: Sometimes, It's Okay To Judge a Book By Its Cover  | GoldiLocs The Man on the Cliff | Luke S. Don't Take the Shortcut | Anonymous Home Not-So Goods | Kaya Creepy Mountain Lurker | MountainSar13 Due to periodic changes in ad placement, time stamps are estimates and are not always accurate. Don't miss my podcast Cryptic Encounters! You can subscribe on Spotify, Apple, or whever you get your podcasts. Click Here to check it out! Upcoming LNM Live Tour Dates: 8/10/24 - San Diego, CA @ House of Blues: GET YOUR TICKETS 8/11/24 - Los Angeles, CA @ The Moroccan Lounge: GET YOUR TICKETS 8/18/24 - Sacramento, CA @ Harlow’s: GET YOUR TICKETS 9/19/24 - Salt Lake City, UT @ Metro Music Hall: GET YOUR TICKETS 10/09/24 - Seattle, WA @ The Triple Door: GET YOUR TICKETS 10/30/24 - Portland, OR @ Show Bar: GET YOUR TICKETS 11/09/24 - Houston, TX @ The Secret Group: GET YOUR TICKETS 11/10/24 - Dallas, TX @ Deep Ellum Art Co: GET YOUR TICKETS 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! Visit BetterHelp.com/notmeet today to get 10% off your first month! Get AI writing support that works where you work. Sign up and download for FREE at grammarly.com/podcast! 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].   

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. I'm a 36-year-old male. My parents divorced when I was 4 or 5 years old. During and after the divorce, my brother, who we'll call Chris, my mom, and I all moved into a two-bedroom townhouse. Now, this wasn't necessarily a nice townhouse, but it also wasn't a complete shithole. The townhouse was an older building that was built in the 1960s, and we moved into it in the 90s. It was located in a rougher part of town, which

enabled it to be something a single mother with two kids could swing. The layout of the place is important for the story, so bear with me. When you walk in the front door, the kitchen is immediately to your left, and then there's a hallway leading away from the entrance in front of you. The kitchen had an open countertop area that looked into the dining nook, where the table and chairs were, and then there was a split-level living room slash den area that had glass sliding doors that led to the backyard, which didn't have a fence or any privacy. We had a rather sparse and sad playground. If you continue in the hallway past the kitchen, on the right there was a staircase leading

up to my mom's bedroom and a second bedroom that I shared with my brother. One day after school, my brother and I were outside playing in the backyard on the playground. We were just doing kid stuff when my mom told us that we needed to go check the mail. The mailboxes for the townhouses were located at the main entrance, which was on the opposite side of the complex from where our place was.

Naturally, since I was five and my brother, Chris, was nine, my mom didn't want to leave us alone, especially since it was almost dark outside. So, we went back inside and got ready to leave and go with her to the mailboxes. On the way out, I remember my mom asking Chris if he had closed and locked the sliding glass door. Chris said that he had. About twenty to thirty minutes later, we were back from the mailroom.

We had driven over there, and I was lingering in the car for one reason or another while my mom unlocked the door. Chris didn't know that I wasn't inside yet, and on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms, he saw somebody's feet disappear at the top of the landing. It was as if somebody were scurrying and trying to hide. Nothing seemed like it was off, so Chris thought that it was me. Chris didn't think much of it, so he went into the kitchen, and finally I went inside and went upstairs.

I went straight into our bedroom to get ready for bed. My mom was at the table in the dining room near the split-level living room downstairs. As I was completely clueless in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, Chris, who was still downstairs in the kitchen, kept hearing somebody walking around in my mom's bedroom. At this age, I had a bad habit of going through other people's stuff. I was never doing it maliciously. I was barely five.

I guess I was just curious. Chris thought that I was being nosy and going through our mom's jewelry and stuff, so he ran upstairs to catch me in the act and get me in trouble. Once he was up the stairs, Chris sprinted across the hall into my mom's bedroom and threw himself stomach- first onto the bed. When he looked up, he saw a tall, slender man with a bright green latex goblin Halloween mask. He was holding a large knife that he had swiped from the kitchen.

My brother sat silently in shock as this man in a goblin mask raised one finger to the mouth of the mask, indicating for him to be quiet. But my brother couldn't contain himself. Which is true to form for him. He screamed bloody murder for my mom. When Chris screamed, the man ran downstairs and encountered my mom who immediately jumped into action. Our baseball gear was in the living room, so my mom grabbed a bat and started fighting this man in our house while he was taking swipes at her with the knife.

Meanwhile, I was getting ready for bed. I heard something going on, but I was completely unaware of what was actually happening. I had gotten into my big oversized sleep shirt and was about to head back downstairs to have a glass of milk before going to sleep. I finally realized something was going on when I went downstairs into the kitchen and pulled a stool up to the counter so that I could pour a glass of milk. That's when I saw the guy in the goblin mask push my mom down the small set of steps in the split level living room. She landed on her back, but she was still swinging the bat wildly, trying to make contact, and she did.

I had my eyes glued to this scene. I was truly frozen in place. I remember I wasn't scared since I was so young. I couldn't fully process what I was seeing, though. The man finally ran towards the front door, which was right by the kitchen. I was in the middle of pouring myself a glass of milk, and since I was frozen, I didn't realize I had filled my glass of milk and continued to spill it all over the counter. On his way to the door, the man stopped and turned directly toward me.

He was clutching the knife and through that green goblin mask, he let out the most primal scream I've ever heard. It was deep and layered with sounds of rage and frustration. He then ran out the door, which he slammed behind him so hard that the whole place shook. I continued standing on my stool, pouring milk everywhere, frozen, for I don't even know how long. It must have been only a second, but it felt much longer than that. The moral of the story is to lock your doors.

Don't just assume that you did. Into the man in the goblin mask, let's not meet again. This happened when I was 21 and living in Oakland. It was the early afternoon, and I was walking under the overpass, talking to my then-boyfriend on my cell phone. I was just running up the street to go to the market. The neighborhood wasn't the best, but I had lived there for almost three years. The unwritten and unspoken rule was if you leave people alone, they'll leave you alone, so I stuck to that.

I was in the middle of this conversation with my boyfriend, and as I was walking along, this white truck stopped on the street right next to me. There was a man in his mid-30s or early-40s inside and he immediately started yelling at me. I was just kind of pissed off and confused. I was trying to figure out what his deal was when it occurred to me that he was screaming at me to get in the truck. I literally responded, hell no, I don't fucking know you. But he just kept screaming at me to get in the truck. I continued, no, you're crazy, why the fuck would I get in your truck?

At this point, I realized that in the middle of the street, there was a divider that prevented people from making U-turns or driving over to the other side of the road. So I just started walking in the other direction and he drove off. I don't know why he didn't get out or anything like that since he was trying to pluck me from the street, but I'm grateful. Fast forward a couple of years later, I was still living in the area and on another early afternoon, I was walking up the same street under the same overpass. I was walking in the same direction with my headphones on,

listening to some music and going to work. There was a teenage girl about seven feet in front of me. She was maybe 15, talking on her cell phone, not paying much attention to her surroundings. I couldn't hear anything except for my music when I was walking along, but all of a sudden I saw an adult man in a blue car pull up to the side of the road. I immediately had a sinking feeling, so I took my backpack off and I put it on the ground in front of me.

I then pulled out this huge, five-foot-long Taser baton that my dad had gotten for me. I waved it in the air while looking at his rearview mirror. Without even saying anything, he sped off. The girl turned around and saw me with the Taser. The teenager then recounted everything that just happened to the person on the phone. You could have been snatched just now, I interrupted. Don't approach someone that you don't know, period, just don't. There's no reason for a grown adult man to be talking to a teenage girl.

Stay safe. The teenage girl nodded and thanked me for looking out for her while she continued on her way, still talking on the phone. This happened in literally the same spot, under the same overpass. I can't help but wonder if there are men who troll this spot regularly, looking for other girls to snatch. This show is sponsored by BetterHelp. What are your self-care non-negotiables? For me, it's cancelling unnecessary plans and staying in with my wife and the dogs.

When your schedule is packed with kids' activities, big work projects, and more, it's easy to let your priorities slip. Even when we know what makes us happy, it's easy to let your priorities slip. Even when we know what makes us happy, it's hard to make time for it. But when you feel like you have no time for yourself, non-negotiables like therapy are more important than ever. My therapist helped me to understand this important rule about life. It's okay to take care of me. If you spend your whole life neglecting yourself and worrying about everything and everyone

else besides yourself, well, your body will eventually let you know, in the worst ways possible. Take it from me and give yourself a break. Talk to a therapist and it'll change your entire world. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give BetterHelp a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible, and suited to your schedule. Just fill out a brief questionnaire to get matched

with a licensed therapist and switch therapists at any time with no additional charge. Never skip therapy day with BetterHelp. Visit BetterHelp.com slash not meet today to get 10% off your first month. That's BetterHelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash not meet. Now back to the show. My wife and I travel often. We're always going from city to city, and at one point we settled down in Vegas for

a few months. One night after work, we were headed towards Henderson, which is a city outside of Vegas. I was reclined back in the passenger's seat when we ran over something and the tire popped. My wife got out of the car to check what happened and quickly confirmed our tire was toast. Within seconds, a woman in a very nice car pulled up behind us. My wife and I had been arguing, and I was mad and stubborn, so when I saw the person who pulled up was a woman, I laid back in the seat. I figured she was just stopping to check on my wife, who she assumed was alone.

The woman then said that she had a brother-in-law who had a tow truck. She said that he could tow her car for free of charge to a stop. My wife then asked the woman why she was being so kind. And the lady said something like, well, us sisters have to stick together. I'm helping you out. The woman then got back into her car. My wife told me that she was going to follow us with her hazards on until we got to this dark, empty parking lot in front of some nearby grocery store

to get off of the road. Everything about the situation seemed plausible, so I didn't really think anything was weird at the moment. Plus, my wife was very confident, as this woman seemed to genuinely want to help. So we pulled into the parking lot and my wife got out. I was still lying on my back in the passenger seat, so this woman didn't out. I was still lying on my back in the passenger seat, so this woman didn't even know I was there yet. She started talking to my wife about how she changed her life within a year.

She told my wife that she could put her on to what she does, in her words. She proceeded with this pitch, which seemed believable. She looked very nice and her car was expensive. My wife started to feel bad about taking up this lady's time, so she started to insist that she could just call a tow truck herself. But the woman assured my wife that her brother-in-law was coming. She even offered to drive my wife around the area to look for

a car repair shop that was open. But my wife had already googled some places. The woman then asked my wife why she was in Vegas, as we had New York plates. My wife explained that she was out there primarily for adventure and doing something new. Then the woman asked my wife if she was close to her family and if she had a boyfriend, adding that she could introduce her to some friends to help her get acquainted with the area.

My wife motioned over to me and said, Oh, well, I have a husband. The woman was not expecting that at all. She looked like a deer in headlights as I politely poked my head up and waved from the car. When she finally saw me, she stared for just a few seconds, then immediately got into her car. I've never had somebody look at me like that.

She looked panicked, like she had to get away from me right away. She abruptly told my wife that she had to get going, but she said that her brother-in-law would be there in about an hour. My wife was confused and tried to ask the woman if she would come back with her brother-in-law, but the woman just drove off. We knew right then something was off with the situation. My wife and I just stared at each other in confusion as the woman drove away. I still don't have any idea why that happened.

But we called a towing company who was able to fix the car and we were able to get back on the road within 40 minutes. We started to continue our drive, but we drove back to the parking lot since my wife was certain that the woman was going to come back or at least her brother-in-law would show up. She wanted to let them know that she didn't need their help. I told her that I didn't think they were coming back, but we wound up waiting around anyway. We waited for two hours, but no one came. So, we finally drove home.

I did some research and I found out that there are a lot of traffickers that use women as first contact since women overall seem more trustworthy. Vegas is a bit of a hub for trafficking. So I can't help but wonder if this was some kind of attempt. The woman showed up so quickly after our tire blew out, and she was almost desperate to keep my wife there.

It was all so weird. Now when I look back, it seems more obvious that there was some underlying danger in the situation, but the woman was so charming and endearing. It seemed like she was genuinely trying to help. I'll never know for sure, but I think she ran off quickly after she saw me since she didn't anticipate a man being there. I was very young when this happened. Yet I still think about this encounter as an adult. I'm now 25, and it happened when I was 10.

I was watching TV late at night with my mom and sisters. Everyone decided to head off to bed, and I was left alone downstairs. I started drifting off, and then suddenly, someone started banging on our door harder than I had ever heard before. I was really scared. I sat there frozen staring at the door like my life depended on it. My dog who was lying right next to me was also staring. He never barked or moved an inch, which was odd since he was constantly barking at the door.

The banging never stopped for what seemed like forever, but in reality was probably only a minute or so. I looked at my dog and, since I finally moved, my dog snapped out of his trance, jumped off of the couch, and ran towards the door. He still hadn't started barking, but he was tilting his head like he was confused. I finally got the courage to get up and open the blinds to see what was going on. I saw this young woman, probably in her 20s. She was standing at the front door, holding her chest in her hand.

She had blonde hair and fair skin, but she was covered in blood. Her shirt had been ripped and her hair was a mess. I remember thinking she must have gotten beat up or was in an accident of some sort. Either way, I immediately went to open the door. As soon as I unlocked it, my mom appeared out of nowhere and slammed her hand on the door and locked it. I had no idea she had even come down the stairs, let alone walked up behind me.

I was so focused on the door and the woman outside that when my mom slammed her hand on the back of the door it was almost as if it had knocked me back into reality. I looked up at my mom with wide eyes. I think I even started crying. She gently put her hand on my shoulder and moved me away from the door. Who is it? My mom yelled through the door. The girl then responded.

My boyfriend beat me up. We live in the apartments across the street. We lived in a townhouse in a cul-de-sac. Our unit was all the way in the back from where the turn-in at the entrance started. We were the first unit in the row, but when she pointed out where her and her boyfriend's place was, it was quite a ways away from us. My mom asked the young lady for her name, and she said something that sounded like Bethany or Stephanie. My mom hesitated as she went to open the door.

Please help me, the woman yelled. My mom then opened the door, stepped out, and pulled it closed behind her but didn't shut it completely. I kept the door cracked behind her to make sure that she was okay, and also to see what was going on. The woman kept thanking my mom and asking her if she could come in since she was scared that her boyfriend was going to come after her. My mom refused and explained that she couldn't let her in for the safety of her four kids,

but she offered to sit outside there with her. My mom then told me to grab the phone and call the police, so I did. As I was calling the police, my mom asked the woman, So, what happened? Which building and unit do you live in? The woman only pointed in the general direction of where she lived. My mom asked her for specifics. The lady specified which building, and she said it was Unit B.

Then, this silver SUV pulled up. She ran towards it and said, that's my sister. She then jumped in the SUV without saying another word and sped off. My mom looked back at me through the crack in the door, confused. After they sped away, she came back inside and shut and locked the door. We just stood there and looked at each other. I asked my mom, what about the police? And she said that she would wait for them if I wanted to go to bed. Now, I was too scared to leave her, so I just waited with her.

Once they arrived, my mom explained what happened, and the police officer said that she did the right thing by not letting her inside. They also explained that they had been receiving calls of similar things like that happening in the area recently. The next morning we got ready to go to the grocery store and as we passed the building that the lady said she lived in, we spotted her unit. We checked and the apartment was empty. Nobody was currently living there.

We never saw that woman or the SUV that came to pick her up again after that. I'm writing across a bunch of different platforms during their workday, so delivering consistent, high-quality communication everywhere is key. And it used to be kind of a pain. Grammarly is an AI writing partner that helps me get my work done faster now with high quality writing for better projects, presentations, and a lot more. Best of all, Grammarly works where I work,

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Now back to the show. About 10 years ago, I was fresh out of college and trying to figure out what was next. I went to college on an athletic scholarship, and I was just as interested in enjoying my college experience as I was in completing it. I ended up with a communications degree, but not much experience other than that. I was working as a door host, otherwise known as a bouncer, at a small lounge and bar that was inside a casino.

My typical schedule at said bar was Wednesday through Sunday from 7pm until 3am. My job duties were greeting people, checking their IDs as they were coming in, breaking up fights, and removing people who got out of hand, all while maintaining a friendly and professional disposition. There was a man who started coming to this bar on the non-peak nights. I mainly saw him on Wednesday or Thursday nights when it was slow. He would come into the bar on one of those nights, but then he wouldn't come in for three weeks or so. Usually he would talk to me a couple of times throughout the night when he was there, just

making normal, small talk. It was never awkward. He was always well dressed, with a suit on or at least a button-up shirt and slacks. He was clean-cut, had an athletic build, no visible tattoos or piercings, and had a shaved head. He was a very good- man for his late 30s. The last night I saw him, the conversation between us was a bit different. He came in on my non-peak night, just like normal, and eventually, he came up to talk

to me by the door. The conversation started normal but shifted into him asking me if I enjoyed what I did for my job at the bar. I let him know that my job was fine. I said, it's not that bad, and it's mostly easy. I said this since it was the most professional thing that I could think of to say. Then he asked me how long I planned to be a bouncer and asked if I thought I made enough money.

This eventually dragged me out of speaking so diplomatically about my job. I said that no, I didn't particularly enjoy being a bouncer. I didn't know what I was going to do with my future. At this point, he looked me straight in the face and said, well, you could kill people. I paused and maintained eye contact. I was looking for a smile or something that would turn this into a joke, but there was nothing. He was 100% serious.

There was no smile or anything, he just stared at me, waiting for a response. Breaking the silence, I told him the first thing that came to mind. I'm pretty sure I don't have the skill set for what I think you're suggesting. He replied, yeah, but you could learn all of that. Think about it. You'll get to travel, and you'll only need to work once or twice a month since you'll get paid really well. I immediately thought that this had to be some kind of setup.

I've seen every Hitman movie ever made. I told him, no, I don't think that's for me, man. He simply replied, okay, and then left. I worked at that bar for another year after that, but I never saw the man again. This happened a long time ago when I was 18 or 19 years old. I worked at a Junior Food, which is a convenience store chain in Kentucky. There were a couple of incidents that happened to me in that short time that I worked there.

The store was somewhat isolated, and I worked alone for most of my shifts. My manager, who was married, and another employee, who happened to be my manager's best friend, often left work to go meet up at their boyfriends. On top of tending to the store, a few of my additional duties were sweeping the parking lot and measuring the gas after closing at midnight. I hated doing this stuff by myself since there weren't any other businesses open anywhere close by. It was back in 1884, so of course there were no cell phones.

I was naive at the time. One night, I received a phone call from a man asking if we sold Playboy. I informed him that we did and I let him know that not only did we have Playboy but we had similar publications as well. He asked me who the centerfold was on the current issue. I politely told him to wait just a minute while I walked over to the magazines. I flipped through the magazines and I told him the name of the model, to which he asked if her lady parts looked juicy.

I froze up, then hung up on him. I'm grateful that he never called back, but this call scared me so much. I felt like an idiot for indulging him and looking up the centerfold. The other incident I'm going to talk about was a lot scarier than that phone call, though. I should mention that when I was hired, I had been instructed to call the police if anyone was lingering around in the parking lot for more than 15 minutes. On this particular evening, I had completed my duties and I was essentially running out the clock until it was time for me to close the door and lock up, then go home. As I was patiently waiting for the time to pass, a man pulled up right in front of the

door in this light colored car. I waited for him to come in, happy to have someone to break the silence of my shift. As I stood by the cash register, I could see him as he leaned forward and looked at himself in the rear view mirror and continually wiped his face with his hands. I couldn't see anything on his face from where I was standing, but I immediately got this bad feeling about what he was up to. When he had pulled up, I had glanced at the clock and kept an eye on the time as it crept by while he continued to wipe his face over and over.

When 15 minutes was up, I then called 911 and told the dispatcher about the situation. In no time, two police officers pulled up and confronted the man. I watched as they got him out of the car and handcuffed him, but I didn't see much else due to the fact that another customer came in. It seemed like forever before one of the officers came in to ask me if I was okay and thank me for calling them.

I let them know that I was happy to help, and what he told me next sent a shiver through me as my blood ran cold. He informed me that the man had been wiping blood off of his face, and there was a huge, butcher-type knife with him in his car. The handle of the knife had been broken off, and the blade was covered in blood. He said that the man appeared to be intoxicated, and since his car was running, they were able to arrest him for driving under the influence. The officer said that they had contacted his family and everyone seemed okay.

He added that they didn't know whose blood that was, but they assured me that they would continue to investigate to see if they could find whoever he had hurt or killed. I never heard anything regarding this case after that. When I realized that something could have happened to me that night, I decided to quit shortly afterward. So to the phone guy and the bloody guy with the blood covered knife, let's not meet. This happened around 2000 or 2001 when my best friend and I were 12 to 13 years old.

We were living in a small town with the population of about 2000,000 people in Minnesota. Out of our friend group, my best friend and I were the only two who lived in the rural outskirts of town, so we understood the boredom that could ensue and the fun things that would come out of it. She and I were into exploring the woods, running around in the cornfields, creating forts, exploring abandoned houses, etc. It was a really fun time for us.

One day she and I decided to take our bikes out for a ride down some gravel roads. Her little brother tagged along with us, he was about 9 or 10. We were riding along laughing and probably teasing her brother when we saw this old shack in one of the corn fields. The corn wasn't fully grown and we were able to see the shack pretty clearly. We decided to explore it. I don't remember much about the outside of the shack, but I do remember what I saw inside. And it still gives me the creeps to this day.

We peered inside and the first thing I noticed were the posters hanging in the room. There were posters on every wall. There was a different person on every poster and they all looked angry. Some of the people on the posters were holding guns, pointing straight ahead, while others were pointing their fingers. It was bizarre. Even though they were just images on posters, it felt like they were pointing right at us with their eyes fixated on us.

In the center of the room, there was a perfectly round circle painted on the ground. My friend and I remember there being a star in the middle, but her little brother only remembers a circle. As we were staring at this creepy scene, I felt like we were being watched. And not just by the posters, I looked to my right across the gravel road and into the cornfield across from us. There I saw a man standing in the field. He was just watching us.

He wasn't waving or yelling or anything, just watching. I alerted my friends and we looked back at him together. I awkwardly waved but he continued just standing there not waving back. We were sufficiently creeped out, so we jumped on our bikes to get away. We were on gravel which wasn't easy to bike on, so it was taking us a while to get going. We biked away and I repeatedly turned around to see if he was still there. He was, and he was still watching us. He barely moved and only turned his body slightly to angle in our direction and still watching us. He barely moved and only turned his body slightly

to angle in our direction and keep watching us. I still can't get over how he just appeared in the middle of the field like that. Recently, I've been thinking about this, so my friend, her brother and I started a group chat. We all shared what we remembered, and they basically remembered everything the same way that I did. What I didn't know was that they went back that day.

And when they went back, everything was gone. Even the red paint on the floor. A week later, whoever owned the shack donated it to the fire department to be burned. I don't know what was going on in that shack. to be burned. I don't know what was going on in that shack. Some theories have been that it was used for weird rituals or even target practice for some militia dude. It was also theorized that it was just owned

by some weird guy who had an odd taste in decor. Whatever the case may be, thinking about the shack and the man in the cornfield, it still weirds me out to this day. This is your gateway to the unexplained. A place for new and otherworldly experiences. Join me, Andy, every other week on my new podcast Cry Cryptic Encounters, for an in-depth conversation with guests from around the world, exploring phenomena like astral projection, lucid dreaming, ET encounters, witchcraft, and many other supernatural topics, whether

you're fascinated by the creepy, the curious, or the deeply spiritual. Cryptic Encounters offers a thought-provoking journey into the unknown. You can subscribe and listen to the first episode of my new show, Cryptic Encounters Today on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Check it out. I'm a 24-year-old female and this happened about three years ago when I was 21 and living in a mid-sized city in the Midwest. At the time I had a bicycle, no car, and hardly enough money for public buses.

I worked at a retail battery lighting and repair store. I worked full-time and lived a little over a mile from my job. Since I was a female, in a male-dominated field, I was quite accustomed to targeted abuse, at least from men who thought they knew better. Many times I stood my ground and flaunted my knowledge in subjects that these men couldn't grasp, and due to my willingness to learn and close proximity to work, my schedule was all over the place, so I mostly worked by myself. When this occurred, I wasn't scheduled to close.

It was a windy, drizzly, early fall night. I remember this because I had my bike with me, which became my anchor that night. My coworker Joey, a 22-year-old male, came in for an evening shift after his class at the local college. We had a close friendship, and we often stood up for each other. We were also good about taking over for one another in cases where we felt flustered or needed to step away to go to the bathroom in the back. Joey received a phone call inquiring about getting a repair on a smartphone.

It sounded like it was an LG, but it was a low-tier phone, so he wasn't 100% certain if it was a phone that we would be able to repair. He asked the young female caller to stop by for a consultation so that we could take a look at it. The young lady on the phone quickly agreed and said that she would stop by at around 5.30 p.m. This was a night that I was supposed to be off at 6 p.m. so that I could catch the bus at 6.12.

A little before 6 p.m., this frantic, terrified, bawling 20-something-year-old woman came into our tiny shop. I was at the counter, replacing worn-out price tags and just doing some other general tasks. I looked up at her, confused, but willing to help. She looked me deep in the eyes and asked if Joey was around. At the time, he was in our bathroom in the back, so I had to step in and help our customers until he came back.

I told her that Joey was there, but he was currently busy, and I was willing to help her in the interim. She timidly handed over a cheap, very smashed phone. My customer service skills couldn't prepare me for what she was going to say next. She quietly told me that her boyfriend who was outside in his red truck in our small parking lot had gotten angry and smashed her phone when she tried to call her sister that afternoon.

I took the backing off of the phone and I tried to research the model to see if I could do any kind of screen repair for her. Our procedures had no results for her phone model. I tried to hand the destroyed phone back to her, but she pushed it back into my hands with this pleading look. Then the honking commenced. There was this light drizzle outside so our front glass door had water droplets beating on it and it was slightly fogged over.

Since my view was obscured, I couldn't see who was out there honking. I told her again that I couldn't help her and I advised her to try a competitor who also does cell phone repairs down the road. Then the tears really started to flow down her cheeks. I was getting freaked out since she kept throwing glances behind her and the honking from outside had become nonstop. I was involuntarily shaking with fear and rage. I too was in a domestic abuse situation at the time so

I knew all too well what this girl was experiencing. I broke my gaze, which was locked on her, and I searched through our database a second time to see if I could find any kind of solution. My search again yielded nothing. Then I looked up from the computer and saw this shadowy figure of a young man pacing in front of the store.

I was slightly relieved since the honking stopped, but I was feeling increasingly shaken up. My whole body vibrated with fear and I whispered to her over the counter and asked if she needed me to call 911. She slammed her hands down on the counter and said I could not do that, and begged me not to. My coworker Joey finally emerged from the back and then asked what was up with all of the honking.

This was mostly because we sometimes had a lot of elderly or disabled customers who would honk their horns, signaling for us to come out and pick up heavy battery cores from their cars. He assumed it was one of those situations, but honk their horns, signaling for us to come out and pick up heavy battery cores from their cars. He assumed it was one of those situations, but when he saw the expression on my face and the young woman's face, he knew something else was going on. The young man outside stopped pacing and began banging on the front door. Joey took the girl's phone from my hands and told me to go to the back and

lock the employee only doors. I did as I was told and then grabbed my bag, my bike, and my jacket. I looked at the clock in the back and it read 614, which meant that I missed the bus. I didn't even realize the time since I was so concerned about this girl and how both of us felt like trapped animals. Joey was a bodybuilder during his free time. He was a gentle but short and stocky guy. I was a short, overweight, and kind lady who tended to respond to situations

in either of two ways. I would either become a doormat or I would be ready to stand my ground. I knew that I couldn't fight a customer and neither could Joey. Not because of our physicality, but we'd lose our jobs. So I had no idea what to do. The young guy then flung the door open which stayed open due to the wind. He had this maniacal, hateful look about him. He was slim but muscular, and he looked like a predator.

He was in his early 20s and was soaked by the rain. He snatched the broken phone off of the counter and grabbed the girl to tow her out of the store. He hurled insults at us and I gave the girl a pitied look. He slammed the door shut, leaving Joey and I standing there in absolute silence. Joey quickly snapped out of it and ran to the front door to lock it. I then told him to call our manager from our store landline and

stuck around while he did. I noticed that the guy had moved his truck directly in front of our door. He was watching us from his truck as we were behind the counter on the phone with our manager. I had to leave to get home since the last possible bus arriving was at 642. I couldn't miss this bus since it would have been impossible for me to pedal all the way home in this weather. It was 618, and I just needed to cross a busy highway and walk down the sidewalk for about an eighth of a mile to get to this stop.

Joey, the guy in the truck, and I stared each other down until about 623, when the guy from the truck finally left the parking lot. I told Joey that I would wait a few more minutes and leave at 625, to get over to the bus stop. A few minutes later, Joey opened the front door, and I flew myself on top of my bike and pedaled harder than ever. Now, mind you, our store was in an industrial shopping area at the very edge of town. We worked next to a sub-shop, and across from a strip mall, with a bullseye store, a local

grocery chain, a few other retail stores, and a bank in a large lot. As I set off to the bus stop, it started to downpour, and as I straddled my bike and tried to pull out of the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of the red truck. He was looping around at the sub shop. The highway I needed to cross had two lanes going in each direction, so I essentially had to play real life Frogger to get to my destination in one piece. There were a few cars that slowed down for me as I hauled ass to the other side of the road.

When I got across, my front wheel got caught in some grass and my right foot slipped off of the pedal. The pedal struck my shin and I had to act quickly, so I grabbed my bike by the frame, picked it up and awkwardly jogged to the bus stop. The red truck pulled into the bank parking lot, which I had to pass. The truck was pulling around until it went through the entrance across from the sub shop. To do so, the truck got into the lane closest to me. He was now crawling beside me, until he turned at the next light so that he could circle

the main parking lot of the shopping center. I stuck to the sidewalks since it felt safer, and it kept me in the view of more people. Meanwhile, this truck patrolled the parking lot like a hunter stalking its prey. I felt cold, sore, and cornered. I felt vulnerable, like an injured animal. There were a couple of cars that pulled into the entrance of the parking lot which prevented the truck from re-entering the lot again. I nearly collapsed when I got to the small bus stop and felt my phone buzz.

It was Joey. I leaned the bike up against myself so that I could answer the call. Joey told me that he was watching, even though he had an elderly couple in the store that he was helping. He said that he wouldn't allow that guy in the truck to hurt me. I started to cry as all of this caught up to me. The red truck continued to loop around again and again. The bus ended up pulling in early, at 6.39, and I couldn't have been happier.

I knew the driver since I used buses to get around town, and to get to work. I still had my stupid bike to worry about, so I hung up with Joey, put my phone in my jacket pocket and strapped my bike to the rack that was in front of the bus. I was struggling since my bike was slick from the rain. I was also shaking. I then got on the bus, turned to the open bus doors and I saw that the truck had taken a left out

of a different entrance of the parking lot. I finally felt like I could let my guard down. I sat in the front of the bus and I pulled my damp phone out of my pocket. I dialed Joey's number so that I could let him know that I was fine. In under 15 minutes, I made it back to my apartment safely, but deeply disturbed. I took my bike inside, just in case, since I didn't want to draw any attention to where I lived. This entire situation inspired me to leave my own domestic abuse situation a few months

later when COVID took the world by storm. To this day, I wonder about that girl. I hope that somebody more insistent than me called the cops on her abuser. I hope that she found the strength to leave that violent man and write her own story. Most importantly, I hope that she recovered from it. Since I left my situation, I'm doing significantly better in life. I finally have a car of my own and I live a couple of states away which helps me feel safe from my past.

This happened around 2005 when I was living in Atlanta. My best friend was in town and she wanted to book a nice hotel room for us that was near all of the bars and the nightlife. We got back to the hotel late, but before midnight. We were intoxicated, but we weren't blackout drunk. We got in our pajamas, got into bed, and quickly fell right to sleep in the queen-sized bed together. Our room only had one bed because she accidentally told them there would be

one occupant in the room. Several hours later, I woke up bleary-eyed, and I saw this tall man standing in our room, staring at us. In my stupor, I managed to calmly ask, what are you doing there? In my stupor, I managed to calmly ask, what are you doing there? My friend woke up at the sound of my voice and asked what was going on. The man froze like a deer in headlights. He told us that he was with hotel security, and there had been a report of a disturbance.

So he came into our room to ask us to quiet down. Confused, we told him we had been asleep for hours. He simply said, have a good night, and then walked out the door. We ended up going right back to sleep. The next morning, we went downstairs and talked to management since, as we discussed this, we realized something was very strange. Someone in management talked to my friend and then called an additional manager with more seniority over to talk to her. I was on the phone watching this conversation unfold from across the hotel lobby.

When the second manager came out to talk to my friend, she became sheet white. She was informed that the hotel had no on-site security team, and no one had called in about any disturbances the night before. They immediately moved us into a different room and upgraded the rest of our stay. To this day, I wonder if that room was targeted because the reservation only had one woman listed. I feel like that man somehow found that information and when he saw that there were actually two of us, he panicked and decided not to move forward with whatever he had planned.

I also wonder what would have happened if our reaction wasn't tempered by the weirdly blended alcohol dreamy state. If we had screamed or reacted more harshly, would that have triggered something more sinister? Do not miss out on tickets for the Let's Not Meet live shows. This weekend I'm in San Diego on August 10th and then in Los Angeles on the 11th. Then I'll be here in Sacramento on the 18th. We've also got tickets left for Salt Lake City on September 19th, Seattle, Washington on October 9th, Portland, Oregon on October 30th, Houston, Texas on November 9th.

And then I'm hopping over to Dallas on November 11th. Tickets are available at Let's Not Meet podcast dot com slash tour, or just follow the links in the show notes. If you're a patron, make sure to stick around after the music for your extended ad free version of this week's episode. And 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 where you'll get access to ad free versions of all of our episodes, as well as hours and hours of bonus content with stories you won't hear anywhere else. This week you have heard Burglar in a Halloween Mask by jbo99, Under the Overpass by

Miss Lita, I'm Sure That My Wife was Almost a Trafficking Victim by Lucifer Stocking, She Was Covered in Blood by Anon3241s, I Was Scouted by a Professional Hitman by CommutingTurtle, I was scouted by a professional hitman by a commuting turtle. An obscene phone call and the bloody man by bestinfluence9484. Man watching us in cornfield by garland1988. The dime a raging customer stalked me and finally woke up in my hotel room with a man standing over me by bookishbrod. All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors.

If you have a story to share, send it to letsnotmeetstories at gmail.com to hear them on the show. Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. Don't forget to check out my new podcast, Cryptic Encounters, as well as the new episodes of Odd Trails and the old time radio cast all at CrypticCountyPodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts. I'll see you all next week everyone. Stay safe. This happened to me about four or five years ago.