Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast - 8x22: John - Let's Not Meet
Episode Date: July 4, 2022-UPCOMING LIVE SHOWS- THURSDAY, AUGUST 25, 2022 - SEATTLE, WA - TRIPLE DOOR (NEW VENUE!) (CLICK HERE FOR TICKETS) FRIDAY, AUGUST 26, 2022 - PORTLAND, OR - POLARIS HALL  (CLICK HERE FOR TICKETS) ...  To help fund our TV Pilot of Let's Never Meet and get access to a bunch of awesome perks head over to letsnotmeettv.com today! Stories in this episode: - Stalked by my Coworker/Friend, by KL (1:29) - Two Experiences, by Anon (14:04) - Divorce Hotel Scare, by Anon (44:07) - John, by Tessa Landry (50:59) Extended Patreon Content: - Almost Kidnapped, by Melissa - Brad, by Mindy - Weirdos At Basketball Practice, by Liv All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors. Let's Not Meet: A True Horror Podcast is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online. To submit your story to the show, send it to letsnotmeetstories@gmail.com. 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! Don't forget to check out this week's episode of my other podcast Odd Trails for your true paranormal fix as well as the first episode of my new podcast the Old Time Radiocast all at crypticcountypodcasts.com. This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and my listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com/MEET. Check out NativeDeo.com/meet, or use promo code MEET at checkout, and get 20% off your first order today, and don't forget to check out their sunscreen for those bright summer days! To learn more about microdosing THC just do a quick search online or go to Microdose.com and use code: MEET to get free shipping & 30% off your first order. Their gummies have really helped me get the best night's sleep in months. Right now, save up to 60% off your subscription when you go to. Just go to BABBEL.com and use promo code MEET. All time stamps are approximate and may not be 100% accurate after 90 days due to changes in ad placement. - Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/groups/433173970399259/ - Twitter - https://twitter.com/letsnotmeetcast - Website - https://letsnotmeetpodcast.com - Patreon - https://patreon.com/letsnotmeetpodcast - Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsnotmeetcast/ - Twitch - https://www.twitch.tv/CrypticCounty
Transcript
Discussion (0)
AT&T Fiber presents a straightforward moment.
Your wine?
Thanks.
I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good.
And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.
Are you a Gagillionaire?
Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber.
The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.
Me too.
Ugh, this wine.
I'll fetch you a better one.
Straight forward is better.
No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.
Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber. Limited availability in select areas, visit
at ATT.com slash Hypergate for details.
Our Let's Not Meet TV pilot fundraiser has officially launched and we have a bunch of great
rewards for those that would like to donate and help make this thing happen. Still available,
our rewards like shout outs on social media or even on the podcast, personalized thank you videos
by me, lifetime access to the Patreon, and even being credited as an executive producer on the show,
we've picked out a number of terrifying fan favorites from the show that we would love to film
for all of you. And if you want to help out, head to Let'sNotMeat TV dot com or just follow the links in the show notes.
And don't forget, this podcast contains adult language and content.
Listener discretion is advised. If you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not Meet
stories at gmail.com. Enjoy the show. My name is Andrew Tave and this is season 8 episode 22 of Let's Not Meet a True Horror podcast. I had worked with Hannah for about two months before we started interacting a whole lot.
She always seemed sweet, she was very friendly, and came across as soft spoken and kind.
We were then put on a project together, so we were working in close contact on a daily
basis.
We had a lot of fun together and became close very quickly.
We had lunch together, we got our nails done on the weekends, went to movies, and she drove
me home often.
This went on for a couple of months or so.
I'd like to think of myself as a pretty intuitive person, so I can read people's vibes
pretty easily.
As I got to know her a little better, her soft and sweet persona started cracking
now and then. There were a couple of times where she would snap at me or completely change her
demeanor for a split second, and then revert back to being herself, and perhaps even overcompensate
a little afterwards. This gave me a weird feeling, but I thought to myself everyone has bad days,
right? So skip forward about six months since we've met. She had put in her notice at the place we
both worked at. Her last day comes and goes, and she has now moved on to a new job.
A couple of days after that, I got a notification from Google Maps that I had a missing location
from my day. I knew I had disabled my location tracking services with Google a long time ago
because I thought they were creepy. So I clicked the notification and up comes a whole log of locations.
I started looking through them and quickly realized that these are not places I had been,
except for my workplace. I started going through these locations day by day and realized that
these match Hanna's whereabouts. She had recently taken a trip home, which is a remote island
location. So I go back to these dates to see if that location matches and sure enough,
there they are. I texted her asking if she was logged into my Google account. I could
think of no other instance where I had logged into a Google account
on any of her devices.
I would have had to enter my password.
I explained why I was asking, and she said
that she was logged into her own Google account.
She then joked that I was keeping tabs on her.
This was when I started panicking a bit.
How was this possible?
I had deactivated these services on my account, and none of these locations were mine.
I sent her a screenshot showing her what I was seeing and told her I was freaked out.
She then said, Oh my God, now I'm in your account.
And that she would sign out and forget my details.
I then asked how this could be possible as there was no instance where I would have ever
logged into my account on her phone.
She confirmed that this hadn't happened and kept saying she didn't know what was going
on.
She then asked if I had any contacts in my phone that didn't belong to me.
I checked and I told her no. She then said she has contacts in her phone that do not belong
to her. I asked her to send me a screenshot and she did. A bunch of my own contacts were
in her phone, complete with names, contact pictures, and emojis.
I remember feeling my stomach's sink.
She continues acting as if she had no idea what was going on.
At this point I had realized that the locations dated back about three months.
I asked her to call me by this point, I'm like, okay, she has my Google Maps and Contacts.
If she has those, she has to have everything else connected to my Google account, including
my pictures, passwords, emails, everything.
We briefly talk and she says that she'll call the phone company and ask what's going on.
I ask her if she has anything else of mine on her phone, any pictures or emails. She says, no. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, I felt so violated.
My trust had been betrayed. Then I start thinking about the fact that Hannah would have had to
consent to downloading all this information to her phone at some point, how could she not know about this?
I call my tech savvy friend, and she tells me to immediately go to my Google account and
remove all devices, change all my passwords, and enable to factor verification.
At this point, I'm trying to hold back tears.
I had trusted Hannah.
We had spent so much time together, and now I'm
realizing that there's no way this was some kind of accident. She couldn't just magically
have access to all of this, everything, and have it downloaded.
That's not a coincidence. I texted her that night asking if she had talked to the phone
company. Not sure why this would help, but it's what she wanted to do.
She said no.
The next day she told me she no longer had access to my information, she just has her own
emails and contacts, and that all that extra stuff, as she said, is off her phone.
Hmm, I thought she didn't have access to my emails.
By now I'm feeling violated, and very angry, she's lying, and quite clearly too.
I asked her if she had reset her phone, and to confirm exactly what she had access to.
I said I was really trying to figure out how this could have ever happened because this was a big deal to me. She then confirmed that yes she
could see my email on her phone, but can't anymore, most likely because I removed her device.
She said she had my contacts and had noticed this a week before, but didn't know who they
belonged to.
Yeah, right, as if some of them didn't have the same last name as me.
Her tone of writing then changed and became very cold and formal.
She said, I would never purposefully navigate to your email or contact your contacts.
I saw there were contacts, and I think you removed me from whatever you removed me from.
And it suspended that access that I had.
I no longer have any other information than my own.
I'm sorry that this happened, and I am at a loss of words.
I didn't do anything to get access to information that wasn't mine.
Currently, I have nobody's information other than my own.
She then asked if I had access to any of her information.
She had not spoken to me like this and some of the phrasing just gave me a weird feeling.
Some of the phrasing just gave me a weird feeling. Frazes like,
purposely negative,
didn't do anything to access information that wasn't my own.
They just seemed like weird ways to say things.
I told her aside from the locations, no.
Again, I told her I was freaking out
and I didn't like this at all
and asked if she could remember anything that happened
on the day that the locations dated back to. She said no. It was while we were working on the work
project together. But I wouldn't have had any reason to log into her phone. She agreed and
changed the subject. By this point I was feeling every emotion in the book I really wanted to confront her.
How could this happen? How does she have access to all this information if she supposedly does not
have my password? How did she supposedly not know that she had all this information if it was
downloaded to her phone? If she had my email and contacts, she had to have all of my pictures, too, right?
If I had deactivated location tracking on my account, wouldn't she have to reactivate it when she
logged in? Why would she reactivate it? Did she want to know where I was? Then I realized she
knows exactly where I live. She even knows what window is my bedroom's window.
And yes, it's the ground level.
My stomach sinks even further.
I eventually decide that confronting her
is not the best option.
How do I know that she has even deleted all my information?
Even if she did, it could be stored somewhere.
Making her mad would probably not be a good choice. I knew that I couldn't
continue being friends with her. I decided to just stop replying to her messages. We
didn't work together anymore, so I wouldn't have to see her daily. She texted me a couple
of times after that. Once the text read, can I tell you a secret?
That was so ominous. What could the secret possibly be?
I still wonder about that one.
I obviously never responded.
I let my boss know that Hannah had access to all of the work technology, so I thought maybe
running a security check would be a good idea.
She got our IT to make sure that everything was okay.
Some of my co-workers talked to Hannah now and then,
and she asks about me. I, however, have no desire to speak to her. Just the other day, I saw her car
turn the corner out in front of my house. My only theory on how this happened is that she got my
password from the work computer, as she used it to print things out now and then, and I'm logged into my
Google account on there. She acted as if she wasn't tech savvy, in the time span that I
knew her, however, let's be honest, I only really knew her for six months. She could have
shown me only what she wanted to show me. My friends think that she may have been into
me because why would she want all that information
otherwise?
I'm not sure.
I also think I'll never know.
I'm ultra paranoid now and have even more trouble trusting people than I did before.
So to the crazy stalker ex-co-worker, let's not meet again. before saying it's good. And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending. Are you a Gagillionaire?
Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber.
The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.
Me too.
Ugh, this one.
I'll fetch you a better one.
Straight forward is better.
No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.
Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber.
Limited availability in select areas.
Visit AT&T.com slash Hypergate for details.
My father traveled often for work when I was a child which left my mother and me on our
own. This was during the mid 1970s to early 1990s, so no cell phones and also no home alarm
systems. Only rich people had that kind of fancy technology. We definitely weren't rich.
To make sure that we could handle any emergency without him, my father ran my mother and I through
just about every type of drill that you could think of whenever he was home, that is.
We did so many that it was like second nature. A fire? No problem. We had a three-tiered plan depending on
where we were in the house in relation to the fire. An intruder? Well, come on in,
because I had the mother of all hiding spots, and my mom understood the basics of safely handling
and firing long guns and handguns. With these drills came a strict no freak out rule, meaning that being safe and being calm
was an absolute requirement.
It was ingrained into my head.
To break that concentration would mean to make yourself less safe, so always keep a cool
head.
This will come into effect later, but as you can see my parents did a good
job equipping me with the expectation that I must take action to be safe and never shut
down in fear. When the real thing happened, I did remember my training, but I was also
acutely reminded that I was just a young child. I grew up in northern California and unfortunately,
the town that I initially grew up in was becoming rough. There were sudden upticks of petty
crime which later led to violent crimes in the local area. The year I turned six years
old was a major year for me as my first two scary experiences occurred within just a few months
of each other.
And the family emergency procedures that we had trained for were thoroughly tested.
Experience number one.
I was six, and I loved riding my bike.
I also had an insatiable sense of adventure and craved independence pretty much from the
day I was born.
It was the weekend and my dad was actually home that day.
My parents were working in the front yard, adding some curb appeal to our place, and I begged
my dad to let me ride around the block for once on my own.
Totally solo.
I knew I was capable of it, and eventually my dad was convinced that I was. He was very
reluctant, of course, so he gave me these rules to follow. Don't go into the street, don't
stop for anyone, and don't ride on anyone's lawn. He also told me that he would keep track
of the time, and if I was late coming around, he would start looking for me. I confidently agreed and began my exciting journey around the block.
If you can picture four sides of a typical block in suburbia, our house was on the first
side, which happened to be a long side. I rode along the block maybe a dozen times or
so, really enjoying the beautiful weather and my newfound independence.
The best part of the ride was that at the end of the first side there was an exciting little
hill that was a lot of fun to pedal down. And once I figured out how to make the sharp
right turn after that hill, I was on top of the world. I kept an eye out for neighbors,
but I didn't see any, which was a bummer because I really
wanted to wave at them and show them that I was now a big girl riding a bike and exploring
on my own.
During one of my ridearounds, I saw this white beat-up panel van, it was parked on the fourth
side of the block.
It was parked on the same side of the street that I was riding down.
The moment I saw this van, I perked up as I heard about vans like this being traps
for little kids, and I was about as little and skinny as you could get at that age.
Unfortunately, my six year old brain wasn't assertive enough to break the rules or think
outside the box yet.
I slowed down and tried to work out a plan as to
how to get past this van, and my plan was to cross the street, then travel down the
opposite sidewalk. It was a solid plan. Then I decided that I couldn't do that because
I wasn't allowed to go into the street, and since I definitely couldn't ride onto
the lawn, that meant I inevitably had to pass directly next to the van.
So I sped up.
I really hauled butt, and hugged the right side of the sidewalk.
Everything worked out just fine, and I breathed the sigh of a leaf once I got passed.
Because immediately after the van was the right turn onto the first side of the block,
the side that I lived on.
I was now heading in the direction of my house, and I was on my way for another round of the block.
At this point, I hope everyone listening to this is thinking, for crying out loud, kids, stop and tell your dad about this van.
Well, I didn't.
On the next ride around the block, I slowed down again when I saw this van and decided
again that I didn't want to get in trouble for breaking the safety rules, so once more
I sped up and hugged the right side of the sidewalk.
Only this time, as I approached the van, I saw a man's elbow sticking out of the window of the passenger's
side.
That window had been rolled up the previous time I passed.
I could tell that the passenger was a man, and he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt,
with the sleeve rolled into a cuff just above the elbow.
I became extremely uneasy, and I know now that the difficulty I had catching
my breath was because my adrenaline was quickly climbing. In the side mirror, I could see the
man's eyes through his lightly tinted sunglasses. He was looking directly at me.
Noticing the man's choice of shirt and eyewear is irrelevant to the main experience, but
I included it as a learned lesson because I logically knew to scan and gather details from
my dad's safety training, but I didn't yet understand the dangers that were quickly
piling up.
As I rode up to and passed the van, I watched him watch me in the mirror.
I was so scared.
But then I made it by without any problems, so I figured, hey, I handled that like a champ.
It seemed ridiculous to think about it, but I was having a serious dilemma that only a little kid could have. I
didn't want to be near that van again, but I also didn't want to stop riding my bike.
I know what you're thinking, and no, I still had not alerted my dad to the van,
and I really should have, because my story would have ended right then and there.
I ultimately decided that I should keep
writing because I had passed the van twice and nothing bad had happened. Terrible, terrible
decision. In the blink of an eye things got real.
My last time around the block started normally, the weather was pretty and I was loving the
right except this time when I came around
the corner from the third side of the block and onto the fourth.
I actually felt fear as I approached the van, and it was an exquisite and novel sensation
that entirely lit up my body.
That was my first experience being afraid of another human being, and I was having an incredibly
powerful, total body response.
So now I'm right off the van's right quarter panel, and once again I can see the man looking
at me through the side mirror.
I decide to ride on a neighbor's lawn, and I figured I would just beg my dad for forgiveness
later. As I began
moving towards the lawn, I was side by side with the window. When I turned my head to the
left, I saw the man in the passenger seat also turn his head to match my gaze. It's
hard to explain, but that tiny harmonious movement between the two of us instantly
readied my mind and body, from my first ever
fight or flight response.
The man reached out with his right hand and grabbed me under my left arm and shoulder,
so basically in my armpit and yanked me right off the seat of my bicycle.
I was completely frozen for a moment, holding onto my handlebars for dear life and my
bicycle was being dragged right underneath me.
The driver said a few words to the passenger, all probably never remember, or know what he said,
as I was only vaguely aware that the driver existed. My entire world, the complete and total focus
of my attention was on what was directly in front of me, which
was the man's face, who was pulling me through the window of the van.
Somebody somewhere in the universe was looking out for me that day because he never did get
me entirely through the window.
I think that if he had, I certainly would not be here, safe in my home able to write about
it. There were a few things, extremely lucky, and maybe even peculiar things that worked
in my favor at that very moment.
One was that the grab was awkward, and that the man who grabbed me only had one hand on
me.
He wasn't just pulling my weight up towards him, he had to also pull the weight of my
bike as well.
I'd love to say that I planned that out to make it difficult for him, but the truth is,
in my fear, I made two fists that kept my hands firmly on the handlebars.
He gave me a very forceful yank, and my hands eventually popped off of the handlebars, but not without causing
him some frustration.
Another thing that worked in my favor was that I was being pulled into the window slightly
sideways, and as my head began going through the window, I sort of straightened out just
a bit, and somehow managed to post my right hand on the frame of the door down by the side of the mirror.
He made an attempt to quickly switch his hands,
releasing me from his right hand grip and gripping me under the other arm with his left hand.
As he was switching hands, I slipped down just a little bit and was able to get my left hand on the door frame as well.
So now, my head is just barely going through the window,
and I'm now face to face with this man. Both of my hands are posted on the doorframe.
I could see directly into his eyes through the tent of his sunglasses. He had a dark
fleck on the outer edge of his left iris, but he had light-colored eyes. He had a beard and mustache, tattoos covering both
arms, some on his neck. I could also tell that he was wearing a black leather vest. Our
eyes were completely locked in the most intimately evil, dead-eyed expression I had ever experienced.
And we just stared at each other for a weird moment, frustrated. He yanked me a little
more and I felt like I was moving, but it was actually the van starting to creep
forward, and I was just going with it. Now I thought about this maybe a thousand times
over the decades since it happened, and there are some things that just don't make sense
to me, at no point in time, did this man say a single word?
I also didn't say a word myself.
I didn't scream, cry, kick, yell, fire, or anything else that might attract neighbors.
And I honestly don't know why, because I really wish I had done those things.
As terrified as I was, I was also equally calm to the same degree, which doesn't sound
possible, but that's the best way that I can describe it.
Absolutely all my energy was channeled into not being pulled into that van.
If he just yanked on my head, I would have been inside.
If he had collapsed, one of my skinny chicken arms, or hit me in the face, I would have been inside. If he had collapsed, one of my skinny chicken arms, or hit me in
the face, I would have been inside. If he literally had done anything, he would have
succeeded in getting me into that van, like I said, someone must have been watching over
me that day. The driver now pulling forward hit the brakes for some reason.
There was actually a stop sign but I can't imagine a cop worrying about somebody running
a stop sign when a child is literally hanging out of their window so I doubt the stop was
due to the driver being conscientious.
The only thing that makes sense to me is that the hard stop was to allow the man pulling me in
to gain just a little more leverage. Either way, thank you Mr. Domastriver because I managed
to wiggle free. I lost my shirt in the process, I fell on the ground hard and popped up fast
then started running. I proceeded to cut the corner lawn and ran home half naked, and I'm pretty sure
I set the world record for land speed. My dad eventually sees me running towards him,
and he can tell something is wrong, so he starts running towards me. When we meet, I'm
just trying to catch my breath, and also get the words out at the same time. All I got out was, man, van,
and I pointed in the direction of the van.
So now my dad is setting the world record of his own,
running straight towards the van,
which for some unknown reason,
was still at the stop sign.
My dad did run track in college
and the man is really fast, plus,
he had raging dad speed at that moment.
From here, my parents kept a tight hold on the information they gave me about what happened
after I got home.
Once I saw my mom and was inside my house, and safe, fully clothed, I began to process
the event.
I had never felt so safe and also so unsafe
at the same time. It's a complicated feeling for sure. The adrenaline that kept me laser-focused
was now crashing, and the event that I got through rather smoothly was quickly becoming
a trauma that I would carry for quite a while. Just minutes after I got home, several
police officers came to our house and interviewed me.
Then we all went to the local police station and I talked to a sketch artist. I gave them a spot-on description.
She was really good, too, because she drew my nightmare almost perfectly. I remember more interviews, maybe a few days later, and I also saw a child psychologist
for at least a few months, because I had immediately developed an irrational fear of facial
hair, tattoos, and any leather product worn on the upper body.
It got so bad at one point that I was in the grocery store with my parents and I saw
a biker walk in to do some shopping.
I went my pants and I had a complete and total meltdown right there in the aisle. I think I was
about seven or so when that happened. Anyway, I had to get over it in time. You're probably wondering
about my dad. Like, did he find the guys?
And what ended up happening if he did?
The answer to that is, I just don't know.
All I can say is that my dad eventually arrived home as the police were finishing up my interview
and I was happy to see him.
If any arrests were made, I never really knew about it.
About a year later, my dad was out and about like normal.
He came home very late that night and he was pretty scuffed up like he had been in some
kind of bar fight in one.
As soon as my mom saw his face, she sent me to my room, but of course as a kid, I wanted
to know if my dad was okay so I cracked the bedroom door just a little
bit. And I did my best to try and pick up some words, anything that I could. They were
talking just a little above a whisper, but I did make out the words, kids are safe. Whenever
I've asked about the final disposition of what happened to those two men at least,
my parents quickly redirect the conversation.
I'm now in my 40s, so I can take it, but no, they'll never say a word about it.
I might not ever know for sure, but I like to think that my dad unleashed a little citizen
justice on both of them.
I'm sure it seems impossible that such a young child could remember that level of detail
with an event like that, but times seemed like it had slowed way down.
And it's really hard to articulate this.
I sort of knew what was going to happen, just a split second before
it actually happened, which had a calming effect on me. I've heard that during life-threatening
events, the brain can speed up its processing time, which appears to slow time down, giving
that person a slight tactical advantage. And I do believe I experienced that. Yeah, so that was my first mighty emergency as a six-year-old.
Now buckle up for the second story. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment
You're wine?
Thanks.
I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good.
And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.
Are you a Gigillionaire?
Yeah, I have 18T Fiber.
The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.
Me too.
Ugh, this wine.
I'll fetch you a better one.
Straight forward is better.
No equipment fees, no data caps, no price increase at 12 months.
Live like a Gagillionaire with AT&T Fiber.
Limited availability in select areas.
Visit ATT.com slash Hypergig for details.
And now on to experience number two.
Just a few months after the whole van incident,
there was a spree of rapes and murders in Northern
California right near where I lived. In fact, I remember my dad having a serious conversation with
my mom and I, coupled with drills, of course, to prepare us for when he was out of town.
to prepare us for when he was out of town. Specifically, there was a man I heard referred to on the news as the porch light rapist going around our town and nearby towns, knocking on the doors late
at night, unscrewing a light bulb on the porch, and then forcing his way through the door that the
homeowner had cracked open. It sounds preposterous now to think about someone just opening their door to see who is knocking,
but that's just what you did back then.
Also, I guess sometimes he would break windows and come in that way.
Anyway, this guy would then rape and sometimes murder his women victims, and he seemed to
target women who were alone
or women with children. I didn't know what rape was when I was six years old, but I just knew that
it was something very, very bad and something to be feared. Anyway, my dad installed a pee-pull on
the front door, reinforced the deadbolt, changed out some flimsy locks, cut dowels for the track of the
sliding glass door, and did a few other things to make us feel more secure when he was gone.
He assigned me the task of locking the back door and picking my hiding spot.
My secret space ended up being inside the fireplace.
I was a tiny kid, so getting inside was a snap.
Once I pulled the brass fire screen up, which fanned out in the shape of a peacock covering
the entire fireplace.
I pulled the dark glass across and drew both sides of the internal fire screen together.
You could not see me.
So my dad goes out of town as planned, and he's in and out for several weeks, with the
porch light rapist continuing to make the news in our local area.
Low and behold one night, my mom and I are watching TV, and there is this light knock on the door.
And in fact, we weren't sure that we heard it at first.
My mother had to mute the TV, and we stayed perfectly quiet for around 30 seconds.
And then we heard the knock a second time.
It was around 9.30 pm, and we definitely did not know anyone who would try to get a hold of us at that time. It was around 9.30 pm, and we definitely did not know anyone who would try
to get a hold of us at that time. We weren't expecting anyone. We looked at each other,
and my poor mom looked terrified. I was not old enough to comprehend the massive responsibility
of protecting yourself and a young child. I just knew this was a very serious event.
It was finally happening. Our emergency intruder plan was going live. I jumped up and quickly
squirmed into my hiding spot just as I had practiced. Everything was already locked up for
the night, so my job was easy. My mom ran into the master bedroom, and then ran out with the shotgun, quickly crossing the threshold where the front door was.
She went into the kitchen and called the police on the good old landline.
She left the phone off the hook so they could hear what was happening.
911 existed at that point,
but it wasn't a universally used service yet. You would literally have to call the front
desk of a police station to get them to come out. My mom went back and stood off to the
side of the front door with the shotgun aimed where you would expect an adult's head to
be.
To visualize the space our house was relatively small, but it had a great circular flow.
The front door was directly across from the fireplace, which made the home a cozy place
to host parties, but a daunting place when a possible rapist or murderer is on the other
side of the front door.
I really couldn't see much of anything through those two firescreens,
as well as the glass, but I knew that things were getting intense from my mom.
My mom said that she was focused on the tiny glint of the porch light coming through the people. She saw the light go out.
And then we both heard the door knob jiggle, as someone tried to turn it, and pull then push it to get it open.
Whoever was on the other side of that door wanted to come in. My mom was so mortified that
this person might get in, or abandon the front door and try to break a window and get in that way.
She summoned the courage to scream the word no loudly.
She then aims the shotgun at the center of the door and gives the door a hefty smack with the muzzle of the gun.
Instantly the door knob stopped moving and everything went silent.
All we know is that the person left and did not return that night. When the police came,
one of them remembered me from the last time they were out. They confirmed that the
porch light had been unscrewed, but nothing else external appeared to have
been touched apart from the doorknob. I don't think my mom slept all night. Staying on
guard in case he came back. I don't know who this person was. About a year ago, the event
came into my head out of the blue and I decided to look up the porch light rapist.
I could be remembering the name wrong but my mom remembers it being the same name.
So I think we have it right.
After searching, I couldn't find a single article in the person with this moniker.
I did, however, find the East Area rapist who was active at that time in our area and with a similar
M.O. So it's possible that that's the person who was at our door, or it could be someone else,
a copycat. If it was the East Area Rapist, he lived near us and was also known by many other names,
such as the Vicellia Ransacker, the original Nightstalker, and the Golden
State Killer. But whomever it was, we're just happy they never got in.
I'm a law enforcement officer now, and an EMT. I've made a living out of calmly responding
to high stress events and helping keep people, especially children, safe.
I'm also an expert marksman.
So to the men who tried to kidnap me
and the guy who tried to get into our house,
you'd better hope we never, ever meet again. 18T Fiber presents A Straight Forward Moment
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Thanks.
I'll pretend I know what I'm doing before saying it's good.
And I'll pretend I don't know you're pretending.
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Yeah, I have AT&T Fiber.
The straightforward pricing has inspired me to be more straightforward.
Me too.
Ugh, this one. I'll fetch you a better one.
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Hello, I'm 18 years old. I'm about 5'1. I was 17 when this happened. In the early 1970s, The first few nights went on
without any issues, no loud upstairs neighbors or loud anyone for that matter.
Around the fourth night, the man from above us started making noise, almost seeming like
an impossible amount of noise without the floor giving in.
It sounded like we were under a bowling alley.
The same thing the next night, only when my mom left for work, he actually ran outside.
He started talking to her about nothing in particular.
She relayed to me that he said that he had some sort of agent to help him, because in his own words, he
wasn't completely mentally there.
While she figured he wasn't dangerous, or at least not that dangerous, she did tell
me to be careful when leaving, though.
The sixth night, the man came down the stairs.
Now, I slept on the pull-out couch directly
in front of the door, so I could hear the rustling from outside of the door. Then, a knock.
It was pitch black, and I was frozen solid. I couldn't move, and frankly, I didn't want to.
Another knock. Then, more rustling. Another knock. Then more wrestling. And silence.
I gathered my courage to check it out. I looked out the people and noticed the view was
completely blocked by something red. I woke up my mom. Mom, someone is outside and there's
something blocking the people. My mom groggly and confused got up and opened the front door.
No one.
She looks at the door, and it turns out this man had left a flower stuffed inside of the
people.
She closes the door, locks it, and tells me, it'll be fine.
Then, there's a knock. We both freeze. We wait and another knock comes through the
silence again. She said to go to sleep. It'll be fine. Now I listen and lay down, but it took
me forever to get to sleep. But I finally did. Eventually I wake up to lock the door behind my mom
as she's leaving for work. Then, well, that began my day of fear. Other tenants, including
us, complained about his constant noise, and he was supposed to be kicked out. Well,
he wasn't, and he could hear when we left. So, when my mom ran to
the door, he started to make his way down. At that point, I was trying to curl back up
and to bed, when there was this heavy banging at my door, and a voice screaming. You bitch,
you talk to me, and you get me kicked out, I'll fucking kill you.
At this I grabbed my phone and dashed to the bathroom.
The banging went on all day in 10 minute intervals, with about 20 minute breaks in between.
The whole time I was on the phone with people running the hotel, they had phoned the police,
but the police never even came.
The desk lady was on the phone with me and never left me alone.
Eventually, around 8 p.m. my mom came home.
There was, by that point, a hotel security guard trying to get this man away from us.
The man saw my mom and started yelling, random shit at her, as the guard held him back so that she could run inside.
We backed some of our belongings,
enough for one night,
and fled to a different hotel for just the night.
The next day, my mom had us move rooms.
The whole time that man was watching from the second floor.
The last month that we were there,
was all fear for me. Would he find us?
Stalk us, break in?
Nothing else ever happened with him, but my nerves never calmed.
Eventually, we got back home and I started to worry less, butW in my small town.
I had this coworker who was a good friend and usually gave me a ride home every night.
One night he gave me a ride home and he had this friend with him who will call John. The next few days, John would add me on Facebook and try to talk to me every single day.
I was polite, but I wasn't as responsive as he might have wanted.
Keep in mind at this time, John was probably 22, 23 years old.
The next day, I was at work working the drive-through.
My manager calls back to me and says that someone was there to see me.
I come around the corner, and there at the counter is John with a pack of my favorite
snacks.
One of the many questions that he asked me through Facebook.
He told me he was excited that he got to see me.
He asked why I wasn't messaging him.
I just gave him a quick, oh I've been very busy with work and school, I'm sorry.
He told me it's okay.
He just doesn't like getting ignored.
He gave me the snack then left.
My very next shift, he showed up and just wanted to chat. I explained how I was
very busy at work and I'm not able to do that. He told me he would come back and give me
a ride home so that my coworker wouldn't have to. I declined. He seemed upset, but I just
told him, I'm not done until almost midnight, and you work early in the morning, I don't want you to be tired at work, I appreciate you all for though."
He accepted that.
He told me that he really appreciates me caring for him and looking out for him.
Then left.
He continued to come in and order food from this place almost every single day just to
talk to me for a few minutes.
After that, I ended up telling my manager and co-workers that John was starting to really freak me out.
I wasn't sure if I should get police involved or something like that.
They all agreed that it was starting to get weird, and that we would all work together to keep an eye out for him.
And my manager was going to tell him to stop coming in.
Out of nowhere, he just stopped, and I thought that he might have finally realized that
it wasn't going to happen between us.
After a few months, it's now probably December or January.
It was really cold.
I'm working the drive-through again, and my manager comes back to tell me that John is here.
He has a gift bag with him.
I come around the corner, and he's standing at the front counter with a huge grin on
his face.
He excitedly gives me this gift bag.
I opened it, and inside was a pair of handmade mittens.
Before I could even get a word out, he says,
I asked my grandma to make those for you. When I saw you the other day, I saw that you were
breathing into your hands and trying to shove them into your pockets to keep them warm.
I was confused. What did he mean when he said he saw me the other day, I hadn't seen or spoken to him in at least three months.
Then I realized the exact moment he was talking about. I had walked out of my high school
at lunch and was heading down to the gas station. As I was leaving, I realized I had forgotten
my gloves, but I didn't want to go back into the school to get them. He was sitting outside
of my school, watching me. A chill went down
my spine, so I thanked him for the mittens and told him I had to be getting back to work.
My manager saw this panic on my face, and I filled her in on what was happening. She
called the police for me. After that, I never heard from him again. A few years later,
I'm in my second year of college when a headline and mug shot on the
news sends me into a panic.
On the screen was John.
He had gotten into a fight with his roommate who he had shot and killed.
He put his roommate's body in his vehicle and buried the entire vehicle in the backyard. Needless
to say, John, let's never meet again. Don't forget I'll be at the Neptune Theatre in Seattle, Washington on August 25th, followed
by the Polaris Hall in Portland, Oregon on August 26th.
Get your tickets now at Let'sNotMeetPodcast.com slash tour or just follow the links in the show
notes.
I can't wait to see you all there to share some brand new spine-tangling horror stories all live. As always make sure to check out the new episodes of my other shows
odd trails and the old time radio cast at crypticcountypodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcast.
And if you're a patron make sure you stick around after the music for that extended
ad-free version of this week's episode. Thanks for listening everyone, this week you have heard.
Stalked by my coworker friend by K.L.
Two experiences by a listener that asked to remain anonymous.
Divorce Hotel Scare by a listener that asked to remain anonymous.
And finally, John by Tessa Landry.
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
towards online.
If you have a story to share, make sure you send it to Let's Not Meet Stories at gmail.com.
And if you want to get access to that Patreon Extended Version of this week's episode,
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Forward slash let's not meet podcast to support the show today. I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet.
Stay safe. This happened when I was seven years old.