Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 1x10: Dwayne - Let's Not Meet (Feat. The Haunted Heart)
Episode Date: March 25, 2019Stories in this episode: He ruined rabbits for me - jassasson Russian Regret - adventurousash NYE burglars that tried to lure me out of the door, fuck you - The_italiano Dwayne - buggybabyb...umperboats Older dude at the beach with your dog, I could have gone without your divorcee jokes. - christianna415 Creepy hotel staff in Egypt looking for a wife and locked us in a room - rissebit BONUS STORY: The Laughing Bicyclist - colourevolt Check out more from Kenny and Katie at The Haunted Heart Podcast: Instagram: @thehauntedheartpodcast Twitter: @thehauntedheart Facebook Group:  The Haunted Heart Podcast Website and Merch:  www.thehauntedheart.com Follow Let's Not Meet: Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast Website - http://letsnotmeetpodcast.com Patreon - http://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast  Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/crypticcounty Â
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My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 1 episode 10 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror
Podcast.
They'll be taking turns telling stories with me this week
that are true and terrifying. Enjoy.
So I was about nine or ten when I was playing at my friend's house.
Our moms were pretty good friends, so my mom trusted her.
At one point, a family friend of theirs shows up and strikes a conversation with my mom.
He asked me and my friend, Jenna, if we wanted to go back to his house to see his rabbits.
My mom being super overprotective was unsure,
but my friend's mom assured her that it was fine.
I was absolutely pumped to see these rabbits.
So we're walking to his house,
which is about four streets away,
but this walk felt like forever.
It had no concept of time.
It just, it felt different. It was fairly early, but. It just felt different.
It was fairly early, but it was still dark out.
He also insisted on walking on the roads instead of pavements.
This made me feel uncomfortable, but I didn't say much because I was painfully shy.
We kept walking, and my friend was talking to him, and he seemed very disengaged as he was pretty
far in front of us, only occasionally looking back with his creepy smug smirk.
We get into his garden and I see the rabbit hutch.
Now this hutch was weird.
Usually it's a wooden frame but there's lots of mesh so that you can see the rabbits.
There was dark out but I couldn't see any mesh on this hutch.
It just looked like a wooden box.
I didn't really think much about it, but it definitely felt weird.
He stares at us in the eyes while lifting up the lid very slowly.
You know how the whole reason he invited us over was to see these rabbits?
Well, the lid was opened for about ten seconds before he promptly slammed it closed, and
although I did see two very cute rabbits in that time, it wasn't really worth the trek
over here.
He says that we need to go upstairs to get carrots.
So we go upstairs.
He basically forces us to play in his kids' room.
Something I felt very weird about because he had 10 kids and no one was home at all.
At this point, I'm talking to my friend and having a full blown panic attack.
She's trying to calm me down because he would never hurt us, but it wasn't working.
What my friend hadn't seen through the crack in the door was him standing in his room naked.
I couldn't see him, but I could see his reflection in the mirror. He winked at me.
He notices my full-blown panic and takes his home. Two years later, he went to jail, and
none of my family would tell me why. I found out five years after this happened, he went to jail for messing with my friend and her little sister.
I so deeply hope I don't meet Angus again because he is the creepiest thing I've ever
met. So I'm at the club with my then best friend.
Near the end of the night, we were approached by a random guy who was alone.
He has a heavy accent and tells us that he just moved here from Russia.
He tells us his name is Jesse. It doesn't sound like a very Russian name, and I'm immediately on guard.
This friend of mine has a tendency to pick the worst guys. And what I mean is, in a room full of
people, she will somehow manage to pick the single craziest guy in there and start dating him.
And being as close as we were, I always managed to get sucked into it.
This night was no exception.
I pull her away from Jesse, but not before he manages to get my friend's phone number.
Later, as we are in her car ready to drive home, she gets a call from Jessie.
She answers, and his voice rings out on her car speaker.
Can you give me a ride home? No. I immediately mouth from the passenger side, still silent.
I just live around the corner from the club. He persuades. She reluctantly agrees and hangs up.
I ask her why he can't take an Uber or walk if it's that close.
But it's my friend's car and she wants to be nice and give him a ride.
So he pull back in front of the club and he hops in.
During the short car ride, he manages to get out a sob story
about how he moved here to start over
with his one-year-old son.
His wife back in Russia died in childbirth.
My friend is eating it up.
I hate him almost immediately.
The next day, he's texting and calling my friend,
asking her out.
She at least has the same sense
not to want to go out with him alone, asking me if I'll come along with a guy I was dating at
the time. So we get to the beach, and we drink a few beers. Jesse takes his and wanders off
alone. My guy joins him and I see them chatting for a while.
I distinctly remember him describing Jesse later that night. I like
the guy. He just seems a little lonely. I'm wondering why no one can see all the red flags
but me. And again, I always did have a sense for these types of things. That night goes relatively
smooth. As the weeks go by, the four of us hang out a couple more times.
Jesse tries to invite himself over to my friend's place. I'd beg my friend to, if nothing else,
keep her address private, do not let him know where you live. Thankfully, she thinks this is a
smart policy. He seemed oddly fixated on going specifically to her home. As the weeks go by,
he shows his pictures of his son and even shows a picture of his son's birth certificate,
which seems a bit like he's overcompensating. But I never meet this supposed son,
and I have no idea where he is during all of these outings, Jesse was going to be on with us.
I asked him plenty of personal questions trying to figure him out. And I think he knows I'm on to him.
But soon enough, my friend starts dating someone else, and Jesse wants to be the only guy in her life.
He becomes possessive and makes her choose him or the other guy. Unfortunately,
for Jessie, she chooses the other guy. He's furious. The next day, Jessie is blowing her
phone up, texts, calls, voicemails. When we finally listen to them, they're increasingly
violent, full of cursing. The last voicemail reveals everything.
It was all a lie.
There was no sun, no wife.
He calls us idiots.
The last words he speak say that she'd regret it and that he will quote, make her explode.
I shudder to think of that now.
She blocks him and life goes on, but due to the next boyfriend being either crazier
than this one, I eventually need to take a break from this girl.
We go our separate ways.
And yet, the nagging feeling about Jesse never goes away.
Jesse often pops into my head and I get the worst eerie feeling.
A while down the road, I end up catching up with her over text. Even after
our falling out, she can hardly wait a few texts and to reconnecting to ask if I remember Jesse.
My blood instantly turns cold. I say yes. She sends me the link to the news article.
It's about a Russian man arrested for a crime while trying
to flee the country. He has a very Russian name I've never heard before. As I read the
details of the crime, I'm horrified. Turns out, he murdered his ex-girlfriend by shooting
her five times. I also took a photo of the suspect. It's Jesse. He got life in prison after making a plea deal to avoid the death penalty.
His real name was Igor. He was 27. He requested a plea deal in 2016 after prosecutors indicated
that they would pursue the death penalty in the 2015 killing. Police alleged that he used a key that he never returned
to break into the 22-year-old Shaily Este's home near 16th Street in Phoenix.
Igor brought with him a handgun purchased earlier that day through a private internet
cell, according to the police. After an argument between Igor and Shely, when she returned
home, neighbors heard a gunshot and found her body in the home.
Igor's relationship with Shely ended in 2015, according to her roommate's statement
to the police. An order of protection was obtained by Igor shortly after.
Court records said that Igor sent Shaili's roommate a threatening text after an order
of protection was served.
It said, she will be brutally murdered from Russia with love.
Igor was apprehended at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport on July 24th, 2015, according
to authorities.
He had purchased a one-way ticket from San Francisco.
Court records said that he told the police the shooting was an accident. This happens some hours ago.
To give you a bit of context, I'm a male in my early 20s, and I live in an apartment on
the second floor.
I come back home from a New Year's Eve party around 6 a.m.
I address myself, text a couple of people, and then go to bed.
All of this in a span of 10-15 minutes.
Then basically, as soon as I get into the bed, I hear my doorbell ring, not my actual door,
but the gate to the apartment complex.
Initially, as I fuck it, it must be a drunk person, or someone pulling a prank or being
an asshole.
But then the motherfucker keeps ringing very insistently.
So, I go in my boxers to answer the phone that is wired to the gate.
I don't know if that makes sense.
I answer the phone, and I hear a foreign-sounding guy that is trying to tell me something about a friend and keys and to let him in the complex.
I think about it for a second and then tell him,
I don't know you.
I'm not going to open the gate.
I hang up and go to bed again.
They keep ringing very insistently.
So I get up again and go answer the phone.
This time, a bit angry.
And I am greeted by a girl speaking perfect English.
I live in Italy.
And telling me in a very clear way that she is staying on the fifth floor and her friend
has the keys that she is a woman alone in the street and to come check it at the door
if I don't believe her.
She sounded very convincing, to be honest. Mind you, in this moment, I'm drunk.
Hi, and very tired, trying to weigh my options. What if she really is a girl alone in the street at
6am, in the cold, and with all the drunk people going around? What if she isn't, though? Fortunately,
even in my intoxicated state, I have the idea to go out on the balcony over
the gate and check out who was in the street.
I throw on my parka because it's pretty cold, and in my boxers I go out on the balcony
to have an absolutely fuck you moment.
There were four CD-looking people, two males, two females if I saw correctly, right in front of the gate,
talking quietly between themselves, and I yell at them. I shouldn't have done it.
Oi! You wanted to come in?
And I immediately go inside to call the police and grab a knife. Yeah, the real scary thing is
that my gate is not see-through.
So if I went down, I wouldn't have seen outside, and as soon as I opened the door,
I would have been overpowered by them and probably forced to let them in my apartment.
The story pretty much ends here. The fuckers kept bringing the bell aggressively for another 15
minutes while I took off the lights and went through my house like a drunken rambore with a knife in my hand, checking periodically all the windows.
I have windows on the internal courtyard and windows on the street which they easily
could have climbed, or so I thought.
And then it all ended.
I don't even know if the police saw anyone or came at all because I never heard from them. And I just
went to bed after a solid hour of this. Still, burglars that tried to take advantage of Before I got into my current line of work, I was an adult social worker.
A story that I have.
Well, this is one of them that led to me quitting.
My job was to work with drug addicted and mentally ill adults.
We would get them services, housing, etc.
I had a pretty busy workload at the time when my boss called me into her office.
She explained that Missy, one of the senior social workers, wanted to trade clients.
Now Missy was a tough as nails no nonsense lady.
She had been a social worker for 20 years, and for her to want to trade me clients, either
meant A, the client had made a sexual advance, or B, gotten verbally, or physically abusive
with her.
Turns out the guy had acted threatening towards her.
But not only that, she said he'd just scared her.
Coming from her, that was enough to make me nervous.
And I'm a six foot four tattooed guy.
So I go to meet this gentleman who is named Duane.
He's homeless, but he spends his days at a local Starbucks, and according to Missy, he
suffers from auditory and visual delusions.
I catch him sitting outside in the sunshine.
The guy is dirty, long, matted hair, and greasy beard, and the smell emanating from him
made my eyes water.
I introduce myself, and he blinks at me. I ask him if he'd like
some bus vouchers, or for me to find him a shelter for the night. I perhaps just a drink of water as
it was a hot day. Suddenly he looked at me with such malice and hate. My heart sped up,
and I will not lie, how I was scared.
and I will not lie, how I was scared.
Fuckin' CIA spooks. He says to me, exposing his rotten teeth.
After a diatribe that consisted of him telling me I wanted to drill holes in his brain, I decided I was getting nowhere and left him a water in my card. Huge mistake.
I suddenly started getting calls from an unknown
number, all hang-ups. After the fifth call, I dialed the number. It was the Starbucks I
had found a way-net. Thinking maybe he needed to get a hold of me, I drove to the Starbucks
after work. It was raining, and Duane was nowhere to be found.
I left and went straight home. I got another few calls from him that night. He evolved
from his quick hang-ups to heavy breathing.
Over the next few weeks, any effort from me to find him a lead was unsuccessful. However,
the calls ramped up. I had a work phone and a home phone. The work phone was shot off at night.
I woke up one morning to 100 missed calls,
all in a four-hour window.
Now he was ranting, ranging from him accusing me
of implanting him with tracking devices
to him saying that he would find and gut me.
I let my boss know I was taken off the case
and the numbers he called from were blocked.
One afternoon, my grandmother called me one day, scared out of her wits. My grandmother raised me.
I have her last name. She's my maternal grandmother, and I pay for her phone bill, so her address is
in my name in the phone book. She had come home from the doctor's appointment
to a destroyed apartment, furniture smashed,
couch torn to shreds, and the most disturbing.
Her parakeets were both decapitated.
I turned over everything I could to the cops,
his name where he hung out, all of it,
but they didn't think that it was him
and blamed it on tweakers.
I slept on my grandmother's couch for months.
Three months later, I quit my job and went into a totally unrelated field.
I never saw nor heard from doing again.
So that's not me. So I'm still sitting at the beach with my daughter.
This just happened about 20 minutes ago. We live in Hawaii and our apartment is next to the beach, so we try to come as often as
we can. School is out today, she goes back tomorrow, and it's the perfect day to get away
from the new kitten and the switch. First of all, I'm really socially awkward, especially
when I'm just sitting on the beach watching my daughter play in the water.
She's nine, but has the body of a 12 to 13-year-old, so I'm really cautious in our surroundings.
I'm just one of those moms in general.
Thank you, anxiety.
So we're sitting in the sand making a sand snowman, and a dog comes running up with
a stick and drops it in front of her.
And so, she was throwing the stick with the dog, and I was looking around for his owner,
and some old white dude walks up and goes, looks like my old Sammy boy likes your little
girl.
First red flag.
I just kind of awkwardly chuckled and was like, yeah, so I continued to do what I
was doing and got up to get my coffee and he kept standing directly in front of my bag
and towel, so I just had to go around him. He was making small talk and asked where we
lived, which is literally next door. So I just said that we lived in town, and then he started going on about how his wife left him
and left his dog and kept talking about how his dog
loves kids and then starts talking about kids movies.
I call my daughter Bug short for Lilly Bug.
So then he asked what her name is
and what school she goes to.
We are at like at least three red flags here. And I was just like, she's homeschooled.
And then went into the water with her for a minute, came back out to get some water,
and he was still by my bag. And he started talking about how the only way to tell who loves you more, your wife
or your dog, put one in the trunk and see who's happy to see you.
Dude, I'm not approved by any means. I love true crime and have an open sense of humor.
But single white dude with your dog who approached a female and her daughter talking about your
divorce and how you love coming to the beach to watch your dog play with children?
I sincerely hope you're not as much of a creep as this experience made you out to be.
But please, let's not meet again.
I have lots of creepy encounters during my travels, but I'll start with the most recent
one.
This is fairly long as I had two creepy encounters, one after the other.
For clarification, I'm Asian with distinct Asian features, 5'1, small, and in my 20s.
Last year I went to Egypt with a big group of 40 people.
For one night, we stayed at this beautiful villa-style hotel
on top of the mountains.
The layout for this particular hotel
is there is a very long pole in the middle,
surrounded by small villas, with about 20 rooms per villa.
Our group got assigned to the furthest villa from the lobby.
It was around 10 p.m., when I decided to go out for a walk and watch the stars.
My grandma, who I was sharing the room with, was tired and went to sleep early, so I went
out by myself.
I walked around the pool, enjoyed the weather, and the stars.
I sat on one of the benches by the poolside. It was then that I noticed
one of the hotel staff, a bag-porter who helped me with our luggages when we checked in.
They were approaching me. I thought nothing of it, but he came by and made small conversation.
I brushed it off as him trying to be friendly and courteous to guests.
He asked where we came from, and I answered politely.
When he said next, gave me the creeps.
He said his friend was actually looking for a wife from my country.
Okay, all right, dude.
I laughed it off, and lied that I'm married.
He asked where my husband is. I kind of
panicked and told him my non-existent husband got left behind because he had work. He took
out his phone and called someone, but I guess the person he was calling wasn't picking
up. He told me to wait, but my spidey sense is retingling and overdrive. I had two options. I could walk back to the villa as quickly as possible,
but risk letting this man know the room that I'm staying at with my grandma,
or I could walk towards the well lit lobby, hoping that there are people from my group still there.
I stood up and started to walk fast towards the lobby.
The man was still trying to call someone on his phone and tried to call him after me,
but I waived goodbye hurriedly.
When I got to the lobby, I was relieved to see that our tour leader, our Egyptian tour
guide, and probably three ladies from our group was still there.
No more creepy hotel staff.
Or so, I thought.
In the hotel lobby, they have a bunch of souvenir shops set up.
One of the ladies that I was close with, B, was browsing inside a souvenir shop.
Our guide warned us beforehand that the paintings that they sell at this hotel are fake, or
just generally low-quality tourist trap
souvenirs.
So I went inside the shop to tell B about that, in case she forgot.
Inside the shop was B, me, and two salesmen.
One of them was standing near the door and blocking the only means of exit.
B asked for my opinion between two paintings, and this salesman standing out front told
us that these paintings have a different pattern show up that glows in the dark and asked
us if we wanted to see it.
I firmly said no before, be could answer.
I had enough for the day, and I just wanted to go back to our room.
However, this persistent salesman said something
to this other man standing behind us, who then proceeded to close the door and turn the light off.
Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I do not like the idea of being in a pitch-dark room with two men,
I don't know. I could also sense that B was panicking, and she held onto my wrist.
Like an angel in disguise, the door suddenly opened from outside, and it was B's aunt,
who was also in the lobby with our tour guide.
They shouted at us and asked what we were doing.
She motioned for us to come out quickly.
I swear I do not know what would have happened if Beesont didn't open that door at that time.
She made a fuss over it and the rest of the group walked back to the villa together
with our tour leader.
On the way to the villa, Beesont asked us if anything happened, if our phones and
wallets were still with us and all.
We checked our belongings and everything was fine. No one followed us back to the villa and I was happy that we were also checking
out the next morning. So creepy porter and salesman at this hotel, if I ever find myself I'm a 21 year old male and I recently moved into a new house.
The other night around 2.30 am, I was at my house alone when I decided to take a break
from playing a tar and have a smoke before bed, so I grabbed a smoke and started out my front
door.
About three minutes or so into my cigarette, I noticed this faint noise of what sounds
like an old, creaky metal object that needs to get
oiled.
But the sound has a cadence, which makes it repeat every two to three seconds.
After this happens for about ten seconds, I notice that I can hear tires gripping the
road as well.
Then out of nowhere, I see a man who looks to be in his mid-forties, writing this horribly beaten
down bike that emitted a very intense ear piercing high-pitched squeak every time he peddled.
As I stood in my driveway and he passed me, he kept moving forward, but his head slowly
rotated left, and he locked eyes with me. I'm not kidding when I say that this guy looked identical to Hannibal Lecter from the movies,
but that's not what made my heart drop, as I'm locking eyes with him, and he's moving past
my driveway.
He suddenly gives me the scariest wildest, jagged tooth smile that I've ever seen in my
life.
He continues to lock eyes with me.
And this wasn't an ordinary smile.
I'm talking when the Grinch stole Christmas, ear to ear smile.
Within 15 seconds, he continues peddling and is out of sight.
I can just faintly hear the bicycle gears squeaking.
At this point, I'm wondering whether or not he is going around my rectangular
block of the neighborhood, and whether or not I can chief this cigarette fast enough
and get inside before he comes around again. As I'm doing this, I begin to hear the
middle creaking noise. But I also hear something different. I hear the man laughing like a fucking maniac.
As I'm stumbling for my door because of the adrenaline rush, he begins around the turn
where my door is almost in view.
At the exact moment where I would have become visible, I got my door opened, ran in, and
slammed it shut, and locked it.
No sooner does my door close. Do I hear the man from outside? Say loudly. Where'd you go?
And begin laughing. At this point, I went into full battle mode, ran around my house and turned all
of the lights off, battle crawled into my bedroom and waited. As I lay in my bed for the next 30 minutes, I would hear the squeaking
of the bike for about 30 seconds every 3-4 minutes. About 30-45 minutes later, it finally stopped,
and the man was gone. I've actually quit smoking since then and haven't been outside that late,
but every now and then around 2.30 am am I can still hear the squeaking of the bicycle
from outside of my room window. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast.
Today you have heard, He Ruined Rabbits for Me by Jessassin.
Russian Regret by Adventurous Ash.
New Year's Eve burglars that tried to lure me out my door.
Fuck you by the Italian O. Dwayne by Buggy Baby Bumper Boats.
Older dude at the beach with your dog, I could have gone without your divorcee jokes.
By Cristiana, 415, creepy hotel staff in Egypt looking for a wife and locked us in a room
by a rizzy bit, and finally a retelling of the laughing bicyclist by Reddit user, Color
Evolt.
Thanks to Katie and Kenny from the Haunted Heart Podcast for appearing this week and telling
a couple of stories, it's a DC based podcast and all things which he horror, true crime,
and macabre.
Check it out at the hauntedheart.com.
I'll see you guys next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet, a true horror
podcast. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment
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