Speaker 1: I'm unmobile, so the format might be a little bit wonky,
and just as a reference, I'm a transgender man and
use he pronouns now. But to make this story easier,
I'm going to refer to myself as a female. At
the time, my name was Samantha. This happened to me
when I was around twelve, so if I'm twenty now,
that would make this about eight years ago. Every summer,
I would spend the time with my grandparents, who lived
up in the mountains in a very small mountainside town.
It was one of those remote little towns where just
about everyone knew each other, but it was as empty
as it was close. We barely had any street lights
at the time, none by my house, you know that
sort of thing. My grandparents were also a tad bit irresponsible.
They would often leave me at the house all alone
whenever they needed to run errands in the city a
few hours away. I was a pretty responsible kid, though,
and so nothing bad ever happened until one summer evening.
One summer's evening, and I took a glass of iced
tea outside so I could sit on the porch and
watch the sun set. I was minding my own business,
sitting there all alone, when all of a sudden, I
heard a voice call out to me, Hey, you, little lady.
The voice was sort of thick and raspy, like this
person had been chain smoking for forty years straight. I
look up, and there's a man at the end of
the driveway. To this day, his images burned into my mind.
He was tall. He towered over me at about six
foot five if I had to wager a guess. He
was wearing a pair of overalls that were caked in
grime and dirt, and when I would later learn to
be animal blood, a white wife beater that was torn
all to muddy black boots, and somehow a completely pristine
silver watch. He was an older man, maybe about fifty
or sixty, and his eyes were a sharp blue. His
face was so wrinkled up that it reminded me of
a walrus. His hair was gray with light streaks of blond.
He had a huge long beard and was mostly balding,
with long hair to his shoulders wherever he wasn't. He
was also missing most of his teeth. If you're wondering
how I got such a good look at him, I'll
get to that in a moment. I didn't automatically assume
the worst, even if this situation was very odd, I
sort of replied with a non committal yeah. He got
closer to me, to the point where we were now
only about ten feet apart. Do you have directions to one,
two three four Forest Lane? He asked? That was my address? Uh,
that's here this Are you looking for my grandparents and
they aren't home today? Big mistake, My naive self thought
nothing bad of this entire situation. He nodded, and this
grin formed on his face. It was positively toothless and
genuinely sinister. It was then that it clicked that something
wasn't quite right. Good, very good. The man looked all around.
It occurred to me that none of my neighbors were home.
Most were out to dinner, were staying late at work.
It was a Friday night. After all. My stomach sank.
The man looked back at me and seemed to scan
me up and down. You're a very pretty girl, he said,
simply too pretty to be under age, I reckon, and
that made me start to shake. I was frozen in
my steps, And here is this man who took a
few steps closer then and asked me a question that
chilled me to my core, and to this day it
still haunts me. Are you afraid to die? Samantha? He
knew my name. I had never seen this man before
in my entire life, but somehow he knew my name.
That's what scared me the most. I very wisely decided
to get the fuck out of Dodge, and I ran
into the house, slamming the glass screen door and locking it.
The side note, our front door is a sliding glass door.
It's weird. I know. He stood maybe about three feet
away from the door, and after that we just stared
at each other. In my head, I thought, I don't
know if any of the other windows or doors are locked.
He knew that I was thinking that, and so we
stood in the standoff, just staring. I got a very
good look at the man, everything from the smallest toe
to the very top of his head. Each of us
stood there, barely moving, seeming to be in an endless
game of red light green light, and whoever moved first
would lose everything. The sun was setting. It felt like
an eternity, but in reality we were maybe only there
for ten minutes. Talks every thirty seconds. It would get
just a little bit darker and darker and darker. The
man was slowly becoming just a silhouette, and then he
was starting to disappear. No street lights, no neighbors, no witnesses.
I began to tear up and shake. I was so scared.
I don't think I've ever been more scared in my
entire life. Was I going to die here? I was
so young, and there was so much I still wanted
to do. If he ran to get in. What would
I do next? Would I go back outside and try
to make a run for the gas station up the street?
Would I try to hide an outlast him until my
grandparents arrived? If so, where could I hide? And then,
by some grace of God, at that exact moment my
grandparents arrived home, the head lights shined on the man,
or at least that's where he should have been. Somehow,
he was already long gone. I ran to my grandparents,
sobbing and telling them the entire story. They called the police,
but there wasn't much they could do. A few years later,
I was at my grandparents' house once again. I woke
up from a good night's sleep and wandered off into
the kitchen, serving myself some breakfast that my grandma had made.
I sat at the table right next to my grandpa. Wordlessly,
he handed me the paper that he was reading. Front page.
Above the fold, there was a mug shot of the
man I had encountered that day. He was a butcher
in a remote town just a few hours away, convicted
for killing and committing necrophilia on the bodies of his
wife and three kids, then butchering them into pieces and
throwing them out deep into the world. He apparently was
also under investigation for various murders, all of which involved dismemberment.
I have no idea if anyone else saw this man
or knows about the case off the top of their heads,
but if you do, it would be really interesting to
hear about and maybe read that news article again. I
wouldn't be surprised, since this is so fucking sinister in nature.
Apparently he only killed women, and if he truly did
dismember all those people, I would fit his victim profile
to a t young female, dark hair, dark eyes, and
of Native or Hispanic origin. My grandfather took back the
newspaper after I was done reading it and then trying
to conceal how shaken he was. He put a hand
on my shoulder and said, I'm so happy to have
you here, kidd. To give some background information, this event
occurred a little over a year ago, and I still
haven't been able to even begin to get over it.
I'm a twenty two year old five foot four female,
and at the time I was twenty one. My family
and I had recently moved to a new town. There
was a fair amount more rural than the town I
had previously limped in. Our house was a large ranch
style house with a basement. I was home from college,
and my parents had left for the week to celebrate
their wedding anniversary with their friends who lived several hours away.
Before I continue, I'll give a quick layout of the
house so that you'll be able to imagine the setting
a bit more clearly. There were three doors which led
into the house, one on the front porch, a sliding
glass door on the back porch which did have a
lock in floor length curtains for privacy, and another door
on the other side of the wall, from which my
bedroom led into the garage and basement. When you walk
out of my bedroom and turn, you can see all
the way across the house through the kitchen, living room,
and dining area, to the door of my parents' bedroom
and the stairs leading up from the basement. At this point,
it had been a few days since my parents had left,
and so far I hadn't had any problems, and they
had sent me a couple of messages on Facebook letting
me know that they had arrived to their friend's house
safely and were having a very good time. The day
had gone pretty well, and I was sure to check
that I had locked all the doors of the house.
Once the sun started to go down. It was about
eleven PM and I was doing my nightly routine of
staying in bed and messing around on the computer when
I suddenly got the sinking feeling of dread. It felt
as if I was being watched. It was summer and
we didn't have ac so I had a large box
van in the window blowing the cool night air into
my stiflingly hot room. But once that feeling settled over me,
I decided that maybe I I should remove the fan
and close the window, just to be safe. Once removing
the fan, shutting and locking the window, and pulling down
the curtain, I felt a bit better. However, I still
could not shake the feeling of dread. I lay back
down in my bed and tried to continue what I
was doing, although I never put my headphones back on.
After only a few minutes, I began to hear something
that sounded like light scratching. I sat still in bed,
listening to the sound and trying to pinpoint what it
was and if I recognized the noise at all. Our
new house, although relatively close in distance to our neighbors,
had a fair amount of forest all around it. I
thought the scratching may have been an animal, or just
someone's dog that got loose and wanted to come inside.
After a few minutes, the scratching stopped and everything returned
to complete silence. At this point, and I figured that
I was probably right and that it must have been
an animal. My relief was short lived, though, as soon
after the scratching stopped, from the other side of the wall,
I began to hear footsteps slowly descending into my basement.
This is when I knew I was completely fucked. There
was no way I could get out of the house
without walking past the basement stairs. We didn't have a
house phone, and at the time I was in the
process of getting a new cell phone because mine was
broken beyond repair. I sat there for a few seconds,
just wondering what the hell I should do. I knew
that I would need to get out of the house
as soon as possible, and that the more time I wasted,
the worse it would end up being for me. I
contemplated popping the screen out of my bedroom window and
jumping out, but it was far enough off the ground
that there was a good chance I would end up
getting hurt if I did so. Not to mention that
if I jumped out the window and hurt myself't be
able to run for help, and I would be right
next to the door that whoever was in my house
had just gone in through. I decided very carefully and
quietly to open my door and peek out around the corner.
If the coast was clear, I would make a mad
dash for the front door and sprint to my neighbor's
house for help. I very slowly opened my bedroom door,
letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the house,
before creeping around the corner and looking to see if
it was safe to make a run for it. What
I saw nearly made me vomit. As my eyes scammed
the house, I noticed that something was off. I squinted
as hard as I could and looked over at the
basement stairs. I started to be able to make out
the shape of a man. What made it worse, he
wasn't just standing at the top of the stairs, he
was crawling up them like some kind of demonic creature.
I quickly backed into my room, again, shutting and locking
the door as quietly as I could. I didn't think
he'd seen me, but there was no way I was
going to make a run for it now. My only
choice was to pop the screen and jump out the window.
As I was unlocking and opening my window, I heard
the handle to my bedroom door turn once the man
realized it was locked, and a sickeningly sweet sing song
voice he coued, I know you're in there. This was
followed by a loud cackle, and what I can only
imagine was him throwing himself at full force against my door.
I ripped the screen out of the window and flung
myself out. Unfortunately, I landed on the wrong side of
my right foot, and I was sure I'd just badly
hurt my ankle. At the time, I couldn't think of
anything other than getting as far away as possible. I
got up and hobbled as fast as I could to
my neighbor's house, knocking on their door in a panicked
frenzy and ringing the bell over and over. I looked
over at my house as I was yelling for my
neighbors to let me in. I swear to fucking God
I could see the man standing at my window waving
at me. My neighbors finally opened the door after what
felt like forever, and I managed to explain well enough
what was going on for them to let me in
and call the police. I stayed with them until the
police arrived. The police searched my house and found that
the lock to the basement had been picked, that the
door in my bedroom was hanging off the hinges. They
weren't able to find the man anywhere, and because I
had only seen him for a split second in the dark,
I couldn't provide them with a good description of him.
Of course, I got into contact with my parents immediately,
and they hurried right home. The police took my statement
and searched the area for the man, but of course
they came up with nothing. After this event, my parents
and I were sure to add dead balt locks to
the door leading into the basement and to the door
leading out of the basement to the rest of the house.
They also helped me pay to get a new phone.
What really bothers me about all of this, though, is
that nothing was stolen. There wasn't even any evidence that
the man had looked through anything all the while he'd
been inside my house. I'm posting this story on a
throwaway because I'm embarrassed about how I handled this whole situation,
and I don't really want it connected to my real name.
I'll start with some background. I'm a twenty year old
college student and my brother is seventeen. This story happened
over summer, so at the time I was home from college.
Our parents were out of town because it was their
twenty fifth anniversary and they decided to take a little vacation,
leaving me and my bro home alone. That was fine
by us, though we spend most of the time drinking
beer and playing Mario Party. During one of our game sessions,
I showed my brother all of these texts I had
been getting from a guy that I had gone to
high school with. I didn't think much of them. They
were mostly just weak attempts at flirting. Occasionally he would
say something about one of my Facebook posts or about
seeing me somewhere around town, but I thought overall it
was pretty harmless. My little brother seemed really concerned, though,
He pointed out that the guy was texting me at
least seven times a day. He told me if I
ever needed him, all I had to do was text
him the word help and he'd come no matter what.
I laughed at him. I said he was being paranoid. Obviously,
that sort of thing could never happen to me. I
was very wrong. Two days after we had that conversation,
my brother was over at his girlfriend's house, which was
about five minutes away, so I was completely alone at home.
Me being the dummy I am. I posted on Facebook
home alone tonight, huh. About forty five seconds after posting it,
I got a message from the guy saying that he
could be over at my house in five minutes and
he really wanted to spend time with me. I told
him no, but thgged him for offering. He responded by
saying it was already too late because he was headed
there already. I told him no again, but he just
kept insisting that I spend time with him. He said
he had something special planned for us tonight. Again I
wasn't interested. He responded, too late, I'm already here. I
went to my front door and opened it, only to
see him standing there, to my surprise, holding a bottle
of very expensive red wine. I noticed that the bottle
had been opened already, but the entire container was still full.
Then we get to the park that I'm a bit
embarrassed about. Somehow, after a while of talking, I let
him convince me to let him inside. Once he was in, though,
I started to know things off right away because he
poured two glasses of wine. I didn't touch mine because
I noticed that he wouldn't touch his at all. He
keipt insisting that I drink mine, to the point of
being angry that I wouldn't even try. It was about
this time that I realized I admit a grave mistake.
I excused myself and went to the bathroom, where I
took the opportunity to text my brother. When I left,
I noticed the man had stood up and his eyes
were locked on to me. He looked furious. He mumbled
something I wish you had just done this the easy way.
He started moving towards me, and I froze. His eyes
looked like those of an animal. I completely froze up.
I wanted to fight and scream, but I just couldn't
move my body at all. He grabbed me and forced
me to the floor, but even still I didn't fight.
I shut my eyes and waited for the inevitable. But
just then a miracle car. I heard the door burst open.
My brother came flying in from the outside, calling out
to me and asking if I was all right. My
attacker stood up and tried to run, but my brother
grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground. He pinned
my attacker down and said the single most intimidating thing
I've heard him say in his life. If you text
her again, I'll hurt you. If you look at her again,
I'll hurt you. And if you touch her, I'll kill you.
He dragged the guy out of our house and threw
him face first to the pavement. Thankfully, I never heard
from the guy again. After talking to my bro later
that night, I learned that his girlfriend's parents weren't home
that night, so he skipped out on definitely having sex
just to come save me, without a single question.