Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 3x23: The Candy Lady - Let's Not Meet

Episode Date: April 13, 2020

Stories in this episode: Hunted like an animal - bubble085. Candy Lady's Insidious Secret - wickedood. Let me stroke your hair while you sleep - even if I am not your father - tschiep_voegelchen. Try Shudder free for 30 days! Just to shudder.com and use promo code meet. 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  - Merch - https://www.teepublic.com/user/letsnotmeet  - Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/letsnotmeetstreams

Amplify your career through training and development solutions specifically designed for federal government professionals. From courses to help you attain or retain certification to individualized coaching services, to programs at home, your leadership skills, and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development. Online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. This episode of Let's Not Meet is brought to you

by AMC Network's Shutter, a premium streaming video service, super serving members with the best selection and genre entertainment covering horror, thriller, and the supernatural. entertainment covering horror, thriller, and the supernatural. My name is Andrew Tate and this is season 3 episode 23 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. This happened to me a couple of months ago, but when it first happened, given how crazy it was, it took me a few weeks to collect myself enough to type it up and post it. It's relevant for me to tell you up front that I'm a military veteran and I have PTSD

and anxiety problems. I also have a bad case of depression. I've read that CBT, cognitive behavioral therapy can massively improve PTSD symptoms and in turn help to reduce anxiety, so I have been trying various techniques at home. The problem there is my wife and I live in a small two-bedroom place. It's a ground floor flat with an upstairs neighbor with absolutely no concept of other people. A jock douchebag type whose personal trainer.

But he trains at home too, because gains, you know. The kind of guy who's only two topics of conversation are protein powder and steamed rice. I'm sure you can imagine the type. Anyway, with that being a constant issue, meditation, and quiet mindfulness are just not possible with the constant noise. My solution is to do my normal routine during the day, but take advantage of the insomnia that I have later on. At around 2,300 hours, I would put on my coat and my shoes. As we lived near the beach, I'd figured I would just walk to the beach now that there's pretty much zero people around. I walk on the sand, and I'm mindful to the sounds of the ocean.

Sounds nice, doesn't it? It was for the first two times, but you know what they say. Third time is the charm. The walk to the beach from my home isn't that far, maybe a little over half a mile, but once I got there, I would walk to the very end of the beach until you reach the cliff where there is a World War II artillery gun turret, which was another half-mile-ish. Sometimes, I would walk up the path to the cliff and to the gun and stare out into the blackness of the midnight ocean, which was only broken by the occasional flash of light from the lighthouse. I would sit and listen to the waves crashing against the cliffs, sometimes I would close

my eyes and just concentrate on nothing but that sound. I felt safe there, knowing that I was alone. Just me, in the ocean. Usually before I turned tail and head home, I would walk down to a small row of benches. They're all marked with plaques and remembrance of someone who also came and enjoyed the view. Although I imagine they came during the day. The benches are close to an old pub that was shut down years ago, and I heard that the place used to be used as a dogging site or brothel or something back in the day. So when I saw vehicle headlights coming towards the pub, I figured it was some young lads trying to catch potential doggers while

they're at it. I sat on the bench and waited for the car to pass me, but as it rounded a bend in the road further up, I was momentarily lit up by the headlamps. The headlights of this vehicle went off immediately and the car went off the road and out of sight for a moment. At this point I was fully alert and a bit cautious, so I dropped to one knee and ducked behind the bench that I had been sitting on. The vehicle drove past me.

It was maybe 40 feet from me, and as the lighthouse illuminated the vehicle, I could now see that it was an old beat-up land rover kind of vehicle with this terrible camo paint on the wings. At that moment, someone popped out of the top of the vehicle with the scoped rifle and a huge torch. In my head, I was back in Iraq, and my senses felt razor sharp. I dropped onto my belt buckle and crawled into a patch of long grass adjacent to the benches, then I got in a position where I could see them, but they couldn't see me. The guy with the rifle shown his torch at the exact bench that I had been sitting on.

Then the others, all searching for me. He started looking all around him through this scope, looking for where I might have gone. My heart was pounding so hard I felt as if I could hear it. I held my breathing, but more importantly, to try and hide the condensation of my breath. The vehicle started to move to get a better view of the benches, so I started slowly crawling towards the main road. As not only there is a row of houses, but an old stone bus stop that I could take a hard cover in if they saw me and they opened a fire. After about five minutes of hiding in the long grass, it started to rain, and they were still clearly looking for me, but were now 150 feet away. The guy with the rifle was scanning around with his eye down the scope, so I waited until

he was looking away from me to seize my moment and run for cover. I pushed my hands hard into the wet dirt to launch myself onto my feet, then I sprinted towards the bus stop while throwing some zig-zags in there just in case they had seen me. Luckily they hadn't, and I was now far enough away that I could take my phone out to call the police. They were there with a riot van and a squad car in about ten minutes, and as I was talking to the officers in the van, they spotted the

gunner's vehicle and took off after them. The officers in the squad car stayed behind to talk to me. The rain was coming down and sheathed by now. They asked me if I was absolutely sure if it was a rifle, and I told them yes, it was 100%, no doubt at all in my mind. The officers both looked at each other and then one of them asked, and what exactly is your experience with firearms? I told them I was ex-army, and I've seen my share of all kinds of firearms. Then they asked me what I was doing there after midnight, which is a pretty fair question to be honest. I explained that quite ironically, I was taking a mindfulness walk to ease my PTSD symptoms.

They were satisfied with that explanation, if not somewhat amused, and told me that the armed response unit was en route. I asked if they needed me to stay behind and make a statement, but the officers told me not to bother weighing around because they most likely wouldn't need to take a statement beyond the call that I made. And it also was pissing down rain, so I should get home and get dry. It was over, but I still felt super wired and my heart was still thumping hard in my chest. I started the walk home. And when I was about halfway there, a police helicopter buzzed overhead and settled over the area where I had been sitting on the benches with this searchlight going. It was right then that it hit me like a shotgun to the chest.

then that it hit me like a shotgun to the chest. What happened? That was fucking real. And it was here. What the fuck? My head started swimming. My heart was pounding twice as hard now and my legs felt like jelly. My lungs felt glitchy.

Like I couldn't breathe properly. I dropped to my knees, crying in the streets in the pouring rain, the only light coming from a nearby street lamp with a flickering bulb. I was gasping for breath, thoughts flashing in my head, thinking that if I stayed still, if I hadn't hunched behind that bench, if I had done any number of things differently or hadn't, then I could have gurgled my last breath alone in the dark-hold wet dirt. And my wife would be none the wiser till the following day. I had no idea if they were even there for me, and if they were, how could they know I'd

be there? I'd been twice before, I suppose. It's not like there's animals to hunt there beyond foxes and why hunt foxes from a vehicle with a rifle and a torch at midnight. Anyway, I'm not ashamed to say that my experience terrified me. I guess my army training helped me to stay alert and to stay hidden. I guess my army training helped me to stay alert and to stay hidden.

I don't really know. Today I made a call to the police to try and get an update on what happened. After a quick description of what the initial incident was, the officer on the phone, I assume she was an officer, was able to find the incident report right away. Basically the first officers on the scene confirmed that they had seen the vehicle and they had gone off the road and pursued. They said that they had given chase over difficult terrain for as long as they were able to, and the vehicle turned off all its lights and made an escape using the dark as cover. The armed response units were also called as a precaution and patrolled the entire area while the helicopter was dispatched in order to try and locate the vehicle with heat

cameras. Both teams were unsuccessful in finding them, because by the time they had arrived on the scene, they had gotten away. CCTV was also checked, but yielded absolutely nothing. I told her I was sorry if they felt I had wasted their time, then I guess that I They had gotten away. CCTV was also checked, but yielded absolutely nothing. I told her I was sorry if they felt I had wasted their time, then I guess that I must have overreacted due to my PTSD. She told me that as far as they are concerned, I did the right thing. She also said that there have been a few isolated accounts of gunshots having been heard in that area over the last few years, so maybe rethink taking my walks late at night.

I didn't have the energy to explain again why I used to wait until it was so late to go walking, but any advice about avoiding getting shot is good advice. So instead, I just agreed with her and ended the call. After I hung up, I sat down for a few minutes, going over the whole thing in my head. It was most likely nothing when all was said and done, but if nothing else, it's taught me that being hyper-vigilant isn't always such a bad thing. A TNT Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment You're wine? Thanks.

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and business acumen. Management concepts optimizes your professional development online in person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. When I was 12 years old, my family and I lived in an old apartment complex. I say old because it had been standing for well over 50 years by the time we moved in.

Some residents have claimed to have lived their whole lives. Anyway, one particular thing that stuck out to me is that there was a strict no-pets policy. The landlords actually elaborated on this, stating that a copious number of pets seemed to go missing around the area. and they now restrict pets in hopes that it would end that problem there. As a child, I kept pretty much to myself. As for my brothers who are two and three years older than me, they spoke and played with about every kid

that lived in the apartments and in the surrounding area. Every day after school, they'd beg our mother for some change so that they could go, quote, visit the candy lady. She was a local resident in the apartments who held a mini-mart in her apartment. That's what everyone called it. Basically, she'd buy snacks and bulk ranging from gummy snacks to chips so that she could resell them to the neighborhood kids. I'd never been at that point, but was of course curious. I'd asked my brothers if I could join them and they declined.

So I stole, I know, it's bad. A dollar from my mom's purse and followed my brothers and their friends so that I could find out where she lived. Upon stalking them, I finally found out her apartment location. Though they stayed inside for a while, I figured I'd just go the next day. The next day after school, I took my stolen dollar and headed out to the candy lady's apartment. When she opened the door, she was an older Caucasian lady with a welcoming demeanor. She let me in and asked me for my name.

When I gave it to her, I asked for hers. She said to just call her the candy lady. She seemed sweet and thoughtful, asking me about school and if I lived in the area. Kids usually don't come here alone. Where are your friends? She asked me. I explained that I don't really have any friends and that I prefer to just observe. She seemed to sympathize with me because she then told me to take anything I wanted free of charge. As a child, I indulged in taking as much as I could carry. While thanking her on the way out, she said to me, come back anytime, my friend. I felt pretty jolly at that point. One, I got free snacks, and two, I actually made a friend. When I got home, I hid my snacks in my drawers, returned

to my mother's stolen dollar, and felt great overall. That is, until I went back, I returned maybe three to four days later, after that first time. When I knocked, she answered the door frantically. I kind of got scared so I told her that I could just come back later. After realizing it was me, she told me no worries and insisted that I come in. When I did, she asked if I came back from more free snacks. I gleefully told her yes, and she said that the first time was kind of a gesture. But from now on, I'd have to help her with a few things to earn my free snacks.

I was used to working for things, so I actually agreed. It was simple enough just throw out her trash for her. I figured she was old and probably couldn't go outside much. The weird thing was, she had me take her garbage out to the dumpster in the apartment's next door. Fast forward about a month later, it had become a regular schedule. After school I'd do my homework and then I would head over to her place to throw her garbage out, as well as collect my earnings. It was all easy breezy for a while. That is until one day, she didn't tie the trash bag all the way. I walked all the way down

to the dumpster next door. And before I threw it in, I decided to tie it first. It was loose, so I had to untie it to fix it all the way. Curious little me couldn't help but look inside. There I saw wadded up paper towels, drenched in blood, and hair. There was also more black plastic bags at the bottom of this bag. This freaked me out so much that I dropped the bag right then and there and booked at home. As soon as I got home, I cried to my mother about my discovery. She said that she'd go out and see it for herself after I told her which dumpster. When she returned, she said that she didn't see what was inside because the candy lady was already there throwing it out when she arrived. My mother didn't

say a word to her. She just left. She told me that she didn't want me to go out that far anymore and stop helping with other people's chores, completely neglecting what I had initially told her. Surprisingly, I was able to just forget it, more like ignore what happened and just go about my own kid life. Then my brothers came rushing back home one day. They anxiously explained to my mom, who is as nosy as ever regarding neighbors that the candy lady was taken away by the police. My mother dismissed it and told us to mind our own business. My brothers were bummed out though because of their lack of future snacks. As a child, in this point of time,

I didn't really understand police and all that, so I was pretty much clueless about what happened. About a month ago, I had dinner with my mom. I'm now 22 years old. My mother and I got to reminiscing, and we started talking about those apartments. After discussing how old and broke down they were, I asked her if she remembered what I told her that I saw. At first, she didn't.

Then I mentioned that she was arrested by the police. Then the shock of realization hit her. She said she remembered and that she actually asked the landlord about it shortly after she was taken away. Apparently, the landlord told her that the candy lady was actually killing and skinning animals that she found nearby. So she's the reason why pets are not allowed. She was fucking killing them and doing God knows what with their skin.

And I'm the dumbass little kid who got rid of the evidence for her. And for those of you wondering, the management of the apartments next to ours, the one with the dumpsters we used to dispose of the evidence in, caught wind of the smell wreaking from the dumpsters, and from there they were able to catch the candy lady. All I know is I'm glad I never went back once I realized what was in the bags of trash that she had me take out multiple times. To the crazy candy lady, let's never meet again. Oh, and if you're the candy lady reading this, I refuse to believe you were my first friend. This happened to me when I was 11 years old and for a very long time I felt ashamed

and even guilty of the whole situation. My mother and her former partner invited friends to our apartment from time to time. They sit together and have some drinks listening to music and they have a good, funny time. Any of these friends also had children, so I was friends with them. When the adults had their party time, we kids had our pajama party. I was usually the oldest of all the kids and had a good relationship with all of the adults.

I did not have a good relationship with my mother. Even my relationship to her partner was better. So to me, it was really special. They respected me, they listened to me. The women talked to me about women's things, and I always felt like I was taken seriously. There was one couple that separated because one of them was cheating, and I overheard some drama the adults were talking about. I was friends with the daughter since she was my age. My mother and her partner was still friends

with the mother and the father despite their issues. One evening, the father, Peter, visited us. Peter sat together with my mother and her partner, and they chatted a little bit until they got drunk. There weren't any other kids, but I can't really remember. At one point, I don't know how he got there, but I ended up playing hide and seek with him. Peter was so friendly and chatty, he encouraged me to learn an instrument, and I opened up to him. Sometimes I still feel ashamed and sick because of my naivety. It was getting late, I had to go to bed. My mother was tired, her partner was tired, and Peter decided to sleep in our living room on the couch.

Nothing too unusual. I woke up in the middle of the night because someone was constantly talking to me. Peter had sneaked into my bed under the blankets and talked to me quietly while stroking my hair. He said he would get me a keyboard so that I could learn to play it. That was horrified. I knew this wasn't okay, but I was too afraid to call my mother or her partner. I knew they were drunk too, and I thought this was my fault alone. I said to Peter that he had to leave my bed in my room. I begged him to leave me alone.

I convinced him to leave, and he went back to the living room. I thought it was all done, but no. Later I woke up again with him in my bed. I stood up and told him to leave. Please stop this. Let me sleep. It was already early in the morning. stopped this, let me sleep. It was already early in the morning. The sun was rising again. I kept friendly, and somehow I made Peter leave my room. This time I took the key from our bathroom. If it's every lock, and I locked my room from the inside to keep him away, he actually tried again to get into my room. But now I was safe. But not safe from my own guilt. I wanted to talk about it with my mother, but I couldn't. Now, I would shake my younger self to talk about this. This is not okay. This isn't your fault.

You were just a little girl. But back then, I couldn't. I just felt sick and my stomach, nothing serious happened. He didn't hurt me physically, so I believed that it wouldn't make sense to talk about it. I know now that there was no reason for guilt and shame. I really thought that it was on my fault because I wasn't nice to Peter. Peter never visited us again. And I also haven't seen him when I visited his daughter. Years later, when I was a teenager, I told my mother about that night, she got furious.

She said, I should have told her. She was so angry with Peter. But then my mother is not a very reasonable woman. A few years back when she discovered Facebook, she became friends with him. I couldn't believe it. Don't you remember what I told you about him? I asked her, but she actually didn't even care.

I hope so much that his daughter was safe and secure. So to Peter, let's not meet again. Thank you for listening to this week's episode of Let's Not Meet a True Horror Podcast. This week you have heard? Hunt it like an animal by Reddit user bubble085. Candy Ladies and Sidious Secret by Reddit user WickedDude. Men finally, let me stroke your hair while you sleep even if I'm not your father by Reddit user TS-cheap, Vowelchin.

While I haven't been able to keep it up every single night, most nights you can head over to twitch.tv-flash-let's not meet streams around 7.30 pm. We're streaming movies, playing video games, just staying up and chatting late into the night. If you want to check that out again, that's twitch.tv forward slash let's not meet streams. I also have more bonus content going up all the time over at patreon.com forward slash let's not meet podcast. If you want to send in your stories, don't forget you can always email me at let's not meet

stories at gmail.com. I'll see you guys next week as always for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet. Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? I'm sorry. Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Did He's coming up? He's coming up the stairs. Oh, shit. He's a police department. Give me the police department. One longer please. I will connect you. I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared.

I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared. What? What do you want? I hope you don't still come near me. Please, I haven't heard it. But please, I am. Hope don't... Don't come near me! Please, I haven't been in any... But please, I am...

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Management concepts optimizes your professional development, online in-person, individually, or groups. It's training that's measurably better. Learn more at managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com. That's managementconcepts.com.