August 20, 2025 • 54 mins
These are some Frightening Stories From Reddit, from a crazy dinner date gone wrong to a scary game of hide and seek, these are some disturbing and interesting stories! Thank you guys for watching, let me know if you would like to see more content like this in the future! The 2nd story in this video was by far my favorite, so make sure you watch to at least that part! Thanks for watching, like and subscribe. These are all the credits for who wrote the stories!u/BadandyTheRed - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1km2s1j/someone_keeps_texting_me_hide_and_seek_i_wish_i/u/mythic_melon - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1mmi9a8/ive_been_a_cab_driver_for_over_a_decade_there_are/u/PortalXMike - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1mjnev3/my_moms_been_acting_weird_lately/u/ItzSundae - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1m0kszt/i_was_paid_50k_to_dine_with_a_stranger/I was granted permission to use all of these stories. Make sure to check out all of the original authors.Yes, my voice is human. The channels subscriber goal is 1 million, so subscribe!
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
Hey, what's up guys? And welcome back to another
Reddit stories video. And today we're getting into
some frightening stories from Reddit.
Today's stories are so good. They're frightening, they're
interesting, they're crazy, and you'll just want to make sure to
stick around. I appreciate you stopping by.
Please like the video and subscribe to the channel.
It helps more than you know. And make sure to sit back and
(00:21):
relax, grab a drink, grab a snack, stay hydrated and yeah,
please like and subscribe like Isaid.
And without further ado, let's let's get into some frightening
stories from Reddit. Someone keeps texting me hide
and seek. I wish I hadn't ignored it by
bad Andy the Red. I received the first message 3
(00:42):
days ago. I was on my break at work and I
got a text notification. It was odd, it was from an
unknown number. Normally I ignored those sort of
messages. Spammers and the like usually
showed up with those types of auto texts but this one was
different. It was so strange because no
number showed up at all, just the message hide and seek.
I thought someone might have thewrong number for a friend they
(01:04):
were trying to get in touch withto play a game apparently so I
responded think you have the wrong number.
Not sure who you're trying to reach but they're not here.
I went about the rest of my workday and we're just wrapping
things up. When I pulled my phone from my
bag I saw I had another text waiting for me.
Same number or lack of a number.It was just another blank line
where a number should display inthe message hide and seek.
(01:28):
I was confused and slightly annoyed so I responded again.
Like I said before, I think you have the wrong number.
Who is this? Who are you trying to get a hold
of to play hide and seek? I waited, staring at the screen
for a minute and I was about to put it away when I saw a
response. You hide and seek.
My patience had reached his limit.
(01:49):
And I figured if they would not answer then I just blocked an on
existing number and hope it would work.
Despite the lack. Of a visible number.
The option on the message threadstill presented itself, so I was
relieved when the weird conversation vanished.
I got in my car and started to drive home.
I got another notification as I got on the road and used my
car's text to speech to read it to me.
(02:10):
It was Mike, my roommate. He was asking me to pick up more
beer from the store since he hadapparently finished off what we
had left. I groaned at the message and the
fact that I was always the one to buy it for us.
It was getting old, but I neededa drink after the night I had,
so I sent him a message back saying I can this time, but if
you're going to keep drinking everything we have then you
better start paying for it. I stopped by a nearby gas
(02:32):
station close to our apartment and grabbed the case and Miller
and continued home. As soon as I got back in the
car, I received another text. I was getting annoyed already
since I figured it was Mike complaining about being out of
something else, but instead, as the text to speech read out the
message, I knew it was somethingelse.
Seek drink. It made sense now and I
(02:55):
immediately called Mike. He answered after several rings
and sounded stoned. Hey man, what's up?
Did you grab the beer? Yeah, I did.
Are you messing with me? How are you sending those
messages? When I call you, I can see your
number, but not when you send that weird text.
What kind of app are you using? Also, what is the point?
I'm not home yet, I can't play hide and seek, never mind that
I'm not five years old. The seek drink thing was a bit
(03:18):
of a giveaway for whatever weirdgame you're playing.
There was a brief pause and he responded.
Not sure what you mean, man, I didn't send anything like that.
Weird. Who wants to play hide and seek
anyway? Get home, man, my buzz is
fading. He hung up on me and I was even
more confused. If he had not sent the message,
(03:39):
who did? I drove home feeling a little on
edge. When I got back inside, Mike
greeted me at the door. Of course by greeted I mean he
took the case of beer and walkedto the fridge, removed 2 and sat
back down on the couch. Nice to see you too.
I mumbled under my breath and I wanted to ask again about the
weird message, but I just shrugged and grabbed the drink
(03:59):
for myself and lumber to my room.
I was so tired so I decided to call it an early night.
When I stepped into my room, my phone buzzed and I saw another
text from no number almost time hide or seek.
I was getting creeped out at that point.
I did not know how the messages kept getting through.
(04:20):
After blocking it, I decided to respond again.
Stop messaging me. I do not know who this is and I
do not want to play. Leave me alone.
I hit send and tried blocking itagain.
This time I turned my phone off for good.
I tried to settle down and just go to sleep.
I managed to nod off for a bit, but after a while I heard a
knock at my door. I jolted up and heard the
(04:42):
slurring voice of Mike. Hey man, I don't know what the
hell but I think someone is trying to get a hold of you.
I just got a trippy message and it sounded like what you're
talking about earlier. Check it out.
I rushed at the door and saw Mike looking at his phone and a
confused stepper. I grabbed it from him and looked
at the message. Last chance, hide or seek?
(05:04):
My heart sank and I felt a wave of panic rising to my chest.
I asked Mike when did you get this?
He shrugged his shoulders. A while ago man.
I don't remember exactly. I was not looking at my phone.
What's going on? I step back into my room and
turn my own phone back on. Sure enough I had a missed a
message. OK, you hide.
(05:25):
I stared at the words in mounting fear.
I had no idea what to do, but I felt suddenly exposed.
I considered calling the police,but I did not know what I would
tell them. Nothing had happened, only a
creepy text thread. Yet something felt wrong, like
something bad was about to happen.
I looked over at Mike and he looked confused and a bit
(05:46):
paranoid as well. Before I could try and explain
things, the lights went out. At first I thought it might be a
power outage, then I heard the slow creaking sound of the front
door opening. Despite being sure I'd locked it
when I got home, Tara gripped meand I knew something was very
wrong. I crouched out in the dark and
whispered a mic, the only thing I think to say hide.
(06:08):
I crawled on my floor and under my bed.
I was about to call 911 when my phone suddenly died as well.
It was on one moment and then just lost power despite having
over half a charge left. I put the useless device in my
pocket and tried to see if therewas anything I'd use as a light
source. I froze and thought better about
moving when I heard a strange shuffling sound, then heavy
(06:28):
footsteps, much heavier the mics.
I noticed the temperature in theroom had suddenly dropped and it
felt like it was freezing. As the footsteps resounded and
moves closer, I smelled A fetid tinge in the air as well, like
something rotten. I crawled as far back and
huddled up as small as I could under the bed and held my
(06:49):
breath. I heard my closet door gently
shutting and thought it might beMike Hayden in there.
Then the heavy footsteps picked up the pace.
I suddenly realized if I could hear the door closing, whatever
the hell was in here with us could hear too.
I consider calling out to Mike to move, but fear froze my
voice. The heavy footsteps are in the
room now. Despite my efforts to try and
(07:10):
see what stalked us, I could notmake anything out.
I sat there silent in immobile, holding my breath and waiting.
After several long moments I thought we might be safe.
Then I heard the door to the closet break and shatter.
Then Mike scream. A haunting and nightmare
inducing shriek. Something had found him.
(07:31):
The cry of terror was suddenly silenced.
I did not hear anything violent,just the scream and then utter
silence. I had no idea what the hell had
had just happened. For a long while I sat there
paralyzed with fear until finally the light came back on
when I summoned the courage to creep out from under my bed and
see what had happened. I was shocked when lying on the
(07:54):
floor which the shadow remains of my closet door, despite the
ruin of the door, there are no traces of anyone or anything
else. Mike had vanished.
I slowly called out, louder and more emboldened as I moved into
the hall where the light was on again.
No one responded, no one else was there.
(08:14):
I stumbled through the apartmentsearching for my roommate, but
he was gone. Worse still, I had no idea just
where the hell you had gone. No trace of Mike had shown up in
the last couple days since it happened.
I don't know if anything will. I think he can finally be
declared missing, but I don't know if it will do any good.
It was impossible, but whatever had broken into our place had
(08:35):
found him and now he is missing.He had lost hide and seek in
that thing. Whatever it was took him away.
The entire nightmare is unbelievable.
Yet even now as I write about myfriends impossible
disappearance, I am shocked whenI received another text.
Hide and seek. I don't know what to do.
(08:55):
I don't know what this is. Maybe I should respond again a
different way this time. Maybe might help, might keep me
safe from whatever or whoever isdoing this.
Perhaps I can find out. My reply is one word seek.
I was paid $50,000 to dine with a stranger by its Sunday.
(09:20):
I was broke as shit. Flatline.
Financially, emotionally, existentially, whether by poor
choices in my youth or plain oldshit luck, life spat me out
straight from high school and onto the streets.
Drugs followed rehab, then relapse.
I drifted from couches to shelters to squatting in
abandoned homes. Steady income.
(09:42):
Never heard of it, so when I sawthe e-mail I almost just deleted
it without reading. I figured it was just another
rejection for one of my poorly written job applications until
the header caught my attention. Dinner with me for $50,000.
I'm not exactly attractive. Even before addiction wrecked
the few good features I had, I didn't have much going for me.
(10:04):
My eyes had sunk into my skull like they wanted to disappear.
My skin had forgotten what hydration felt like.
So this e-mail? Ridiculous.
I had no looks, no resume, no justification for being chosen.
But I just left the shelter and 50 grand was a dream, bigger
than anything I'd ever held. So I read on.
It was from a domain I'd seen before.
(10:25):
The message read. Dear recipient, I trust this
message finds you well. I invite you to join me for
dinner at blank. This is not a romantic offer.
You'll be compensated handsomelyfor your time, provided you
adhere to the following terms. Remain for the full meal until I
pay the bill and escort you out.Do not pay for anything
yourself. Wear formal tire.
(10:46):
If you don't own a suit, one will be provided at the
entrance. It will fit.
Any breach will void all compensation.
To accept reply. A time and date will be sent to
decline. Disregard this message.
Did it seem insane? Absolutely.
But desperation makes fools of us all.
The kind of fool that doesn't ask for explanation.
(11:08):
Just a fork and a seat. So I replied.
Hello Shepard. Thank you for your generous
offer. I accept your terms and we'll be
there. May I ask a few questions about
this proposition? Again, thank you.
I didn't expect a response. Maybe a phishing scam, maybe
nothing. But seconds later a reply came.
(11:30):
Monday at 6:00 PM at blank. Questions may be asked at
dinner. Thank you for your cooperation.
More cryptic bullshit. That's when I gained the
smallest amount of common sense and decided to look into whoever
this guy was. This was clearly his business
e-mail, so I googled the domain.S&K can punctuation firm.
(11:51):
I was expecting some big group of lawyers off this name alone,
but Nope. No law firm.
Just a single office tucked in asmall strip mall.
No products, no services, just a.
Photo of the. Branch Manager, despite the fact
that the office barely looked big enough for two people and
the title implied multiple locations, yet I couldn't find
(12:11):
even a second one. What did they do?
Solutions. No specifics, just that one
word. I thought about backing out,
probably should have, but when you've got nothing left,
hesitant starts looking like a luxury.
I had nothing to lose so I took the chance.
Between drug fueled stoppers andgetting my ass kicked once or
twice, Monday crept up on me like bruises do.
(12:33):
Slow, unseen, then sudden. I didn't have anything formal.
So I threw. On the only white button up
shirt I owned and some Gray slacks.
Both had stains I couldn't explain, and no iron had grazed
their surface in years. Still, they were the.
Fanciest clothes I had, none of it mattered.
The second I hobbled into the restaurant, the greeter, if you
could even call them that, handed me a dry clean suit
(12:56):
without a word and point to the bathrooms.
I took the hint. This suit seems expensive.
Real Men's Wearhouse type shit. It fit perfectly, just like the
e-mail said. Too perfectly actually.
The cuffs landed exactly at my wrist bone.
The collar rested like it knew my neck shape already.
I didn't have the time or money to question it.
(13:16):
I walked back out. The place had a strange charm.
Soft lighting spilled across tablecloths and smooth pools of
warmth. Ornate picture frames lined the
walls, filled with abstract paintings that felt a bit too
familiar. Wood trim hugged every surface.
Big glitter curtains hung heavy like a wedding reception.
It smelled like artificial plants and faded fabric.
(13:39):
Soft jazz floated through the air and brushed against my.
Ears. As I scanned the room, I
realized something unsettling. When I first walked in, there
were at least 4 tables of peoplelaughing and enjoying
themselves. It had been noisy and lively,
but now silent, empty. Like a bell had rung that only I
(14:00):
hadn't heard. Just a few bartenders, the mute
greeter, and 1 bald man in a suit eerily similar to mine.
I already knew who he was. His photo was the only thing of
note I'd found when looking up the domain.
The branch manager. I approached his table and
before I could even ask if he was expecting me, he gestured to
(14:20):
the chair across from him. He was an older man, maybe 50,
with sad, droopy eyes. His nose was so thin and pointy
it looked like a shark's fin. He seemed to have no nostrils at
all. His jaws fluttered slightly as
he spoke in a soft, low tone. Thank you for coming, young man,
It's good to finally see you, Hesaid.
(14:40):
Extending an arm for a handshake, I tried my best to
sound steady and firm despite myrising anxiety.
Thank you, Sir. The conversation that followed
was surprisingly pleasant. The food was better than almost
anything I had ever had, decadent and strangely
nostalgic, as if it had been made just for me.
He asked about my childhood, my current working conditions in my
(15:02):
family life. Most of these memories weren't
pleasant, but it felt good to have someone simply listen.
I reached a point where I started laying my guard down.
He never interrupted, never judged, just watched.
Then he got serious. He grabbed my wrist just as I
lifted my fork. His grip was ice cold but
steady, and his tone dropped. What is something you wish you
(15:25):
had never done? What?
I was shocked by a sudden seriousness.
He didn't respond. He just stared, still and
waiting. I.
Swallowed. I I stole from my mom when she
was dying. I was supposed to take care of
her and protect her, but I spenther money on the stuff she told
me to quit. A waitress appeared.
(15:45):
Silently depositing in a small porcelain bowl before me.
Inside sat a single seared scallop resting on a streak of
bright red pepper Collis, it's color straining the white plate
like the shame I carried. The scallops tender flesh gave
way to a flash of heat, a reminder that some wounds never
fully heal. A whisper of lemon zest lifted
(16:07):
the flavors. He nodded, no judgement in his
eyes, only something quietly accepting, then stood and
excused himself to the restroom.As he left, I took a breath and
tried to shake off the moment. Then I noticed it.
The chandelier above us had one more bulb.
Just one. The lighted cast spent slightly
at the edges, stretching the shadows under our plates.
(16:30):
I blinked. Rub my eyes back to normal,
mostly. The jazz had slowed by a
fraction. Notes now lingered a second
longer than they should. He returned, looking subtly
altered. His right side appeared younger
and tighter. The left side remained
unchanged. A crease near his mouth had
(16:50):
vanished, and his smile felt less weighted.
He asked again, gently. What's the kindest thing you've
ever done? I told him about a homeless kid
I'd let sleep in my car on a freezing night.
I didn't know his name and I didn't want anything from him.
I just locked the doors and stayed up until morning in case
someone tried anything. While his gaze lingered, another
(17:10):
course arrived. A hollowed apple cradled in a
warm butternut squash soup, it'ssweetness tempered by sage oil.
The apples. Crisp rim framed the velvety
broth, echoing the way I had sheltered that boy from the
cold. Each spoonful felt like a soft
promise of safety in a world so devoid of it.
(17:31):
This time, as he listened, something in his face responded.
His left eye seemed brighter. In the left side, softened.
He looked younger somehow. Maybe the light was playing
tricks, or maybe the room had grown darker.
He asked another question. What's the worst lie you've ever
told? I hesitated, but I promised
(17:52):
myself I would never recall thismemory.
Yet I felt compelled to the tellthe old man when someone close
to me overdosed. I could have saved them.
I saw them but was frozen in fear, thinking I could be just
like them. When the police came, I told
them he was already dead when I got there.
He nodded again. Still no judgement, just
(18:16):
listening. I'm not sure how, but as I
spoke, a new course appeared. A translucent, steamed dumpling
sat alone, his skin almost too delicate to touch.
The moment I pierced it, a smokychili broth gushed out,
scorching my tongue with the sting of my lies.
The gentle wrapper dissolved into nothing, leaving only the
(18:38):
burn of a secret I thought I buried permanently.
Then he stood and walked away, slower this time.
His chair creaked slightly as herose in.
The floor beneath it curved outward in a way that made no
physical sense. As I waited, I saw the wallpaper
behind the bar begin to bubble faintly, like he was pressing
against it from inside. The curtain seemed heavier.
(19:00):
The picture frames on the wall had begun to tilt, each at a
different angle. Not much, but enough to notice.
Enough to make you wonder. The wait staff didn't change
plates. The glasses refilled themselves,
and I started noticing somethingimpossible.
Everyone in the room had his face.
Not exactly, but similar, like afamily of clones degraded with
(19:22):
each repetition. The bartender blinked with one
bulging eye, and the Hostess, his smile sagged like melting
wax. When he came back, the
distortion had grown wider. His jaw was uneven, One side
shriveled, the other taught as barbed wire.
The contrast of his face was more than physical now, it
radiated something deeper, like halves of a personality that
(19:44):
couldn't agree. He sat.
I scan and me, as if measuring the weight behind my silence.
I wasn't sure if he was evaluating my soul or just
admiring the way panic settled into the corners of my posture.
His voice arrived softly, almostreverent.
What memory do you miss the most?
It took me a moment, not becauseI didn't know, but because I was
(20:07):
afraid to admit how fragile the truth had become.
I used to swim in Lake MI every summer.
I said slowly, With friends. We'd throw ourselves off docks
and scream about sea monsters and cold sandwiches.
It was stupid, but I felt safe, like I didn't owe anything to
anyone. Shepherd's good eye glistened.
(20:30):
A tear formed and trailed down the brighter side of his face.
It lingered at his chin and disappeared into the folds.
The darker side remained unflinching, its socket almost
hollow now. I stared at him, unsure whether
to thank him or run. He didn't speak.
He just stood, his movement slower than time calculated.
(20:52):
Waitly. The chair creaked like it hated
being left alone. This bathroom break felt longer.
The silence thickened and the music was barely on, audible.
The overhead lights dimmed again, and this time they pulse
faintly. One of the picture frames fell
sideways. The bartender wiped the same
spot over and over, faced a voidof emotion, I bulging slightly.
(21:16):
The wallpaper near the entrance was peeling, tiny tendrils
reaching outward the roots. A family circled the wine glass
beside my plate, but never landed, looping endlessly.
I felt my chest tighten. Shepherd returned.
This time he didn't sit. He loomed.
His face was wrong. The cemetery had given up.
One eye bulged fully, twitching and quick spasms.
(21:38):
The other was practically sunken.
His mouth hung slightly open, but no breath escaped.
He said nothing for several seconds, just watched me.
Then, finally. Would you like dessert?
I stood, almost instinctively. I think I need the bathroom, I
said. He nodded slowly.
(21:59):
Take your time. The restroom was too quiet, the
mirror too clean. I leaned forward, expecting to
see my own room and reflected, but instead, behind me in the
mirror, Shepherd waited, not in the room, but in the reflection.
His body was stretched taller than before, suit shimmering
like the surface of a pond. He smiled, both eyes twitching
(22:20):
violently. I didn't scream or move, I just
stepped back out. No, the dining room was nearly
gone. The walls had peeled upward
towards the ceiling. Tables melted into spiraled
masses of dark wood and cloth. The floor rippled like liquid
stone. The curtains had vanished
entirely, leaving a strange static haze where windows had
(22:40):
once been. Shepherd said at the center,
Calm. He's done well, young man, he
said. Repentance is ever easy.
The hardest part is accepting that you are no longer part of
the world. You knew.
My knees threatened to give out.I wanted to argue, to scream, to
run, but nothing in my body responded the way it used to.
(23:01):
Everything had slowed, except him.
What? What do you mean?
I managed to ask. He smiled gently, like a father
comforting a child who had just asked the final, faded question.
This meal, he said, is not payment.
It's passage. No, I whispered.
(23:22):
I walked here. I remember the shelter, the the
e-mail. You remember the drug, he said,
cutting gently across my denial.In the stall in the diner.
You remember how cold the towel was?
You remember how long it took for someone to find you?
I shook my head as if it might rattle the truth loose, but it
didn't help. My legs wouldn't move.
(23:43):
All we offer, he continued, is amoment.
One last conversation, one last taste, one last confession.
The last. The room flaked away like ash in
the wind. The table in front of us
dissolves into nothing. Steam hissed upwards from cracks
in the floor that hadn't been there seconds before.
Shepard extended his hand again.The suit he wore shimmered
(24:05):
strangely, color shifting like moonlight on oceans.
Currents. Patterns swirled across the
threads. Faces, maybe, or shadows, I
couldn't be sure. You did well, he said quietly.
You were honest, that's all we ask.
I felt tears on my cheek, thoughI didn't know how they got
there. What?
(24:26):
Happens now. Shepherd looked over his
shoulder. Behind him, the restaurant was
gone and it's place a hallway ofshifting doors, some open, some
pulsing with warm lights, othersdimmed and sealed.
Now, he said, you choose. My mom's been acting weird
(24:48):
lately by Portal X Mike. For the past week, something's
been off with my mom. She's still doing the all the
usual things, making her black coffee first thing in the
morning, tending the roses in the backyard that she refuses to
let die even though it's August and the heat's brutal.
She still calls me sweetheart, still leaves post its with
(25:08):
gentle reminders to eat, hydrate, sleep.
But she won't look me in the eyes anymore, not for more than
a second or two. I got her watching me last night
from the hallway mirror. I was sitting on the couch,
scrolling on my phone, and I just felt it, that kind of
prickling heat behind your neck,like someone's watching.
I looked up and there she was, standing stiffly behind the
(25:30):
corner, peering in like she was studying something or someone.
When our eyes met, she froze. Then she forced a smile.
You OK, honey? I nodded.
She disappeared down the hallwaylike nothing happened, but I
know she was watching. This morning she left a slice of
toast on the kitchen table for me, same as always, but there
(25:51):
was no butter, no Jelly, not even a napkin.
It was just dry. I asked her if everything was
all right. She hesitated.
Of course, why wouldn't it be? I shrugged.
You just seem distant lately. She looked at me for a long
time. Her fingers were tied around the
coffee mug. Then she said slowly.
Sometimes people change, and sometimes they think no one will
(26:16):
notice. I tried to laugh it off, but my
chest felt hollow underneath thetoast.
It's not just the weird glances or the strange things she says.
She started locking her bedroom door at night.
She never used to do that, and Iswear one night I heard her
whispering behind it, like prayers or warnings.
(26:37):
This morning I woke up and foundher in the living room going
through old photo albums. She didn't even flinch when I
walked in. Looking for something?
I asked. She stared down at a photo of us
from years ago. Me.
At least I think it's me smilingin front of a birthday cake
frosting on my chin. Her eyes flicked up to my face,
then back to the photo. Her hands were trembling.
(26:59):
Used to have a mole. She whispered.
I blinked. What, on your left cheeks?
He said. Tap in the photo.
Where is it? I touched my cheek.
I I guess it faded. Her lips pressed into a tight
line. Moles don't fade.
I couldn't think of anything to say, just stood there like an
idiot. Tonight she left a knife under
(27:21):
her pillow. I saw it when I walked past her
room. The door was cracked open and
she was pretending to sleep, butI saw her fingers crawled tight
around the blanket like she was bracing for something.
I think she's afraid of me. And The thing is, I've been
having dreams. Dreams of things that don't make
sense. I hear echoes, I see a forest,
(27:44):
wet leaves. I even smell smoke in the face.
My face staring at me with wide,terrified eyes.
As I reached out for him, as I stepped into my skin, I started
to question myself. What am I?
Am I really who I am? Then one night I go to the
bathroom and look in the mirror and see all the imperfections,
(28:05):
all the mistakes. Then I see it.
I see what my mom sees. I'm not her son and my mom knows
it. I've been a cab driver for over
a decade. There are rules when driving
passengers at night by Mythic Melon.
There's a reason we're scared ofthe dark.
(28:26):
That familiar discomfort when you're driving alone at night,
even if you don't see anyone on the road around you.
It's instinct, a warning built into your bones.
Because there are things out there, beans we can't explain.
They don't show up on camera. They don't care about your
pepper spray. But they follow rules.
Ancient ones. Rituals, maybe.
(28:49):
I don't know where they come from or who made them, but I've
learned this much. If you follow the rules, they'll
leave you alone. I just never thought I'd
experienced something like that behind the wheel of a damn cab.
People think being in a rideshare driver is simple and
the right for the most part. You drive, you talk, If they
want to talk, you drop them off.You get paid.
(29:09):
No real boss breathing down yourneck, no office politics, no
deadlines. Just the road, your car, and a
playlist long enough to keep youentertained between rides.
That's why I started doing it inthe first place after I left my
old job. I don't want to deal with people
anymore. Not really.
I've been a mechanic for 20 years, ran my own shop until my
(29:29):
knees gave out and my business went to shit.
The rideshare apps came at the right time.
I didn't have to smile if I didn't want to.
I didn't have to fix anybody's problems, just get them where
they were going. During the day it's easy.
College kids heading to class, nurses pulling double s, grocery
stores, runs for people without cars.
Honest, quiet work. Sometimes I'd even enjoy the
(29:50):
small tack. I liked hearing about their
lives, felt like I was doing something good, even if it was
just five stars and a quiet thanks.
But at night, things change. The air gets heavy, the people
get strange. I remember when I first heard
about the rules of the road after sundown.
Not guidelines, not suggestions,rules.
(30:12):
They show up on the app the second the sun begins to set.
And if you break one, well, let's just say you don't want to
find out what happens. I'm sure this is very confusing
to hear for the first time, so let me explain.
Every night shift starts the same right after sunset, the app
buzzes and emits a strange sound.
Not a standard chirp. A notification makes something
(30:33):
dull and stringy, like a warningsiren before a storm.
On a much smaller scale, of course, the screen goes black
just before a message appears inblocky text.
Night shift protocol active between sunset and sunrise.
Number one, do not look at passengers directly.
Use the rear view mirror if you must.
Two, do not accept payment greater than the cab fare.
(30:57):
Never take gifts. Three, only process one ride at
a time. Never allow multiple passengers
in your car. 4 Make sure your final passenger is dropped off
before sunrise. I review them every time even
though I've got them memorized. I don't know if the app updates
them or if something darker is watching to make sure I read
(31:17):
them. Either way, I never skip that
screen. At least I don't anymore.
I made the mistake of ignoring the rules once, and that was one
time too many. I never really was a
superstitious man. Back when I started doing
nights, I laughed. Rules like these felt like a
joke. Some edgy tech campaign or
something. The kind of stuff that gets
passed around on Halloween to show they're being hip and
(31:40):
festive. But The thing is, these rules,
they're the real deal. The consequences are even more
real. I learned that the hard way.
It started with something small,just a guy who insisted on
paying double. He said he appreciated my
service, said I looked tired andwanted to bless me.
He pulled out a crisp 100 and set it gently on the center
(32:02):
console. I told him no.
He insisted. I told him again.
He smiled and slipped into the cup holder.
It's yours either way man. I didn't touch it, just left it
there until he was gone. I mean, what's the harm?
The guy looked unremarkable after all.
A middle-aged gentleman was slicked back, salt and pepper
hair, reading glasses, T-shirt and a vest.
(32:25):
Gave me easygoing surfer vibes. Then I looked up in the mirror.
He was still there. I heard him leave, heard the
door shut behind him and some disappeared into the dark, but
he was there, grinning. His eyes were all black.
He mouthed something, but the words didn't match the movement,
like a broken puppet trying to whisper a prayer.
(32:47):
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I reached back, heart pounding. The sea was empty.
He was nowhere to be found except for the mirror.
He stayed there for the rest of the drive, just smiling,
chatting away. I parked my cab in the farthest
corner of my apartments lot, locked the doors, and went
inside. That $100 bill state exactly
(33:09):
where it was, untouched, hummingwith some quiet, invisible
pressure. I could feel its presence
everywhere I went. Something was trying to make me
go back for it. Spend it, maybe.
I wasn't sure, but I needed helpto make it go away.
I contacted. Support through the app.
There's no helpline, no human name, just a form with one
(33:31):
question. Describe your incident.
I typed away everything. The passenger, the tip, the
mirror. I waited, I felt so silly. 24
hours later I got a reply. Protocol breach acknowledged.
Remedial steps required before chefs may resume.
(33:51):
Burn the foreign currency. Avoid seafood for two full days.
Thanks for contacting Technical Support.
That was it. No apology, no explanation, just
instructions. I picked up the $100 bill like
it was a loaded firearm and was surprised by the weight of it.
I went out to the alley behind my complex and set on fire in a
(34:12):
soup can. The flames hissed green for a
moment, then evaporated. It didn't smell like money
burning, it smelled like salt and old fish.
I skipped sushi that week. Thankfully I'm not much of A
fish guy, but the third night the app let me log in again and
like nothing ever happened. The rides returned.
It has been pretty smooth sailing ever since.
(34:33):
Not every shift is terrifying. Some are just weird.
Like the woman in the bright yellow dress who got in without
saying a word and only whisperedher destination, the bog.
Or the man who didn't blink, stared straight ahead and
screamed every time we passed the fire hydrant.
The weirdest ride I ever gave was from last November.
(34:54):
It was around 3:12 AM, that deadstretch of time where the world
feels empty. I was parked near the outskirts
of town, engine idling, watchinga moth dive repeatedly into the
windshield. A ping came through.
There was no address, just coordinates.
I almost declined. Nobody lives way out there, it's
all farmland and old sheds. But I was behind on rents and I
(35:16):
was pretty good at following therules.
At this point. The profile picture was blank,
name just said M Fine, I accepted.
As I approached the pickup spot,my headlights hit something
standing in the middle of the road.
A man, no, a figure, very still,dressed in old fashioned
(35:38):
clothes, Black Hat, long coat, hands folded in front of him
like he was at a funeral. I stopped.
He didn't move. I glanced at the app.
The pin was directly on him. Against my better judgement, I
rolled down the window a few inches.
Hey you M. The figure nodded once.
I unlocked the doors and pulled up the rules panels on my app
(36:01):
and my phone. Same rules as always, no change.
I read over the first one for good measure.
Do not look at passengers directly.
Use the rear view mirror if you must.
Right. He opened the back door and slid
in. Didn't speak, just sat there,
the seat creaking under his weight.
I pulled away from the shoulder and merged back onto the main
(36:22):
road. The silence was suffocating.
I snuck a glance into the rear view mirror.
At first I saw nothing, then themere fogged up as if someone had
breathed on it from the inside. I like the way the condensation
with my thumb and nearly jumped in my seat at what was the real
behind. The figure in the back seat
(36:42):
wasn't looking at me. It was holding something, a
large postcard pressed flat against its face like a mask.
Long fingers curled around the edges, fingers with nails so
long and yellow they looked rotted just the side of them
since a cold wave down my spine.I leaned forward just slightly,
enough to make out the writing. 2 words scrawled across the card
(37:05):
and what looked like red ink or blood.
I couldn't tell. Just drive, it said.
I didn't ask questions. I drove for 40 minutes.
We cruised past silent fields, dead gas stations, and stretches
of Rd. I swear I'd never seen on any
map. I didn't get a destination
update. No timer, just me, the road and
(37:28):
whatever was sitting behind me. The silence felt thicker than
usual. The only sound was the low hum
of the engine and the occasionalcreak of the frame like the car
itself felt uneasy. I kept checking the rear view,
but the mirror kept fogging up over and over.
I wiped it clean with the side of my hand, each time revealing
the same thing. He was closer.
(37:50):
At first he was sitting upright,stiff, almost mannequin like.
Next time he was leaning slightly forward, then his knees
were nearly touching the back ofmy seat.
His hat was old and stained, thebrim tipped just low enough to
hide most of his face. Torn in one corner, frayed like
it had been dragged through gravel.
I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them like heat on the
(38:13):
back of my neck. A cold sweat was forming along
my forehead. I didn't know what to do.
No name, no timer, no destination.
That had never happened before. I gripped the wheel tighter and
kept driving hard, pounding louder than the tires on the
asphalt. What do I do if he doesn't
leave? What if he just sits there until
the sun comes up? Something bad would happen.
(38:35):
I didn't know what exactly, but I knew the rules.
This wasn't just another creepy fare.
At exactly 4:00 AM, he tapped the window twice.
I pulled over. Before I could say a word, the
door creaked open and slammed shut.
I checked the mirror. Fog gone.
Seats empty. Except for something left
behind. There was a small envelope with
(38:57):
one of those fancy wax seals. Inside was a bunch of tattered
cash wrapped in a classy red bow.
Not a cent over the fare, thank God.
I set it aside and sat there fora while, just breathing.
The car was finally quiet. Still, that night feels like it
happened ages ago. I'm more seasoned now.
(39:18):
Passengers without destinations.Common occurrence these.
Days. It took me a while to realize
they're not chasing a place, they're chasing a feeling, a
reaction. They're insatiable like that.
But I've learned a lot since then.
I know better than to feed theirdesires.
You give them. The cold shoulder long enough,
and eventually they leave. These days I'm more composed,
(39:39):
like a prison warden ferrying rowdy inmates.
I've bought a pistol. It sits in the glove
compartment, mostly idle, but ifsomeone in the back gets bold,
starts creeping too close, a little flash of the barrels are
usually enough. They growl, they curse, slam the
door behind them. Cab fare left on the seat.
Not a cent overpaid. I don't bother being gentle.
(40:00):
It's not like they can tip me. But tonight I'm feeling a bit
more anxious than usual. It isn't because of the job.
Nope. Supernatural cab passengers are
a walk in the park compared to what I have in store.
Tomorrow. My son's getting married.
I haven't been part of his life,not really.
That was my fault. I kept my distance after the
divorce, told myself he'd be better off without me hovering
(40:22):
around. No awkward visits, no clumsy
father son talks, just space. But when the invitation came, I
cried. I just sat on the couch,
clutching the envelope and criedlike I hadn't in years.
There was no way I was missing it.
I've missed too much already. I should be resting by now,
getting ready for the big day, but I needed to calm my nerves.
(40:43):
For some odd reason, this job does it to me.
Midnight hits the AP Dings. First round of the night.
I take a deep breath and swipe to accept.
Got to focus, just get through the shift, then straight to the
hotel, change into the suit and head to the ceremony.
The guy who gets in looks normal.
Collared shirt, dark jeans, clean cut.
(41:06):
He slides into the backseat without a word at first.
I start driving. A few blocks in, he speaks up.
Big night. I nod.
Yeah, my son's getting married tomorrow.
Oh, that's great. What's his name?
I hesitate. James, your pizza's slow.
Real slow. James.
(41:28):
Strong name. What time's the wedding?
2, I say. Eyes fix on the road.
He grins. That's wonderful.
You must be proud. I give a tight smile, but don't
answer. Something about the way he's
asking all of this makes me uneasy.
It's not the questions. People make small talk all the
time. It's the way he leans in when he
(41:49):
speaks, like he already knows the answers, like he's
confirming something. We pull up to his drop off.
He thanks me, steps out and juststands there on the curb,
staring through the rear window.I look straight ahead and
pretend not to notice. After a few seconds, he
disappears into the dark. I sit there in silence, hands
(42:10):
still on the wheel. That was strange, even stranger
than usual. Then it hits me.
The rules. I forgot to check the rules
tonight. I pulled up the app and swiped
to the rules section. Crap.
There's a new rule. Don't talk to the passengers
about your personal life. I stare at the screen, like
maybe I'm reading it wrong. Like maybe it's always been
(42:32):
there and I just never noticed. But I know better.
That rule wasn't there yesterday.
My heart starts pounding. I pull over, open the app and
send a message to support Something simple.
There's a new rule. I broke it.
How bad is this? What should I do?
No reply, silence ensued. Last time I broke the rules, it
took 24 hours to respond, and I don't have 24 hours.
(42:56):
Eventually I pull back onto the road.
I figure I'll do a couple more drops offs.
Keeps things simple. Maybe if I don't mess up again,
everything will smooth over. The next few passengers seem
normal enough, quiet, but there's this weird vibe, that
kind of smugness. A few of them chuckle under
their breath. One guy keeps stealing glances
at me in the rear view, like I'mthe punchline to some inside
(43:18):
joke. Another girl won't stop smiling,
just this too wide grin, like she knows some deep dark secret
about me. It starts to wear on me by the
third ride like that. My stomach's turning.
And then it gets worse. My next pickup is a woman
standing alone on the corner in full wedding attire, a long
white dress, veil, oquette. It looks new, clean, not like a
(43:42):
Halloween thing. This looks real expensive.
She doesn't speak when she gets in, just hum softly.
Then she starts singing Here Comes the Bride over and over
again, whispered off key, like she's only half remembering the
melody. The hair on my arm stands up.
I drive in silence, try not to react.
(44:03):
She keeps singing all the way toher destination, and just before
she opens the door she leans forward and whispers, So when's
the wedding? I say nothing.
She tilts her head like a confused bird.
Then she gets out and drifts offinto the dark, dragging the
bottom of the dress behind her. I'm breathing hard now, knuckles
(44:24):
white on the wheel. Next ride, a guy in a wrinkled
button up shirt, tie hanging loose.
He climbs in already shouting Hewas a goddamn mechanic and you
know what? He was useless signing his ass
for 20 years and expects me to be grateful I keep driving.
He doesn't stop. My fiance wants me to invite
him. Can you believe that?
To my own wedding? She doesn't know the guy.
(44:45):
Hell, I don't even know the guy.He starts banging his first on
the seat in rhythm, like he's working himself up to something.
I glanced in the rearview. Big mistake.
His eyes are wide, wild, right around the edges.
There's something shiny in his lap.
For a second, I think it's a phone.
It's not. Without warning, he raises a
pistol, sticks it under his chin, and pulls the trigger.
(45:10):
A deafening pop. The windshield doesn't shatter,
but I hear the spray at the backwindow.
He slumped sideways. The door opens on its own, like
someone is helping him out. I hear his body land on the
sidewalk with a thump and the door slam shut behind him.
I don't stop, I don't check. I just keep driving.
Like I said, I'm a seasoned driver now.
(45:31):
Sad to say this isn't the first time one of these loons popped
themselves in the backseat to try and get me to turn around.
I have bigger issues to worry about.
The rule break hung heavy in my head.
And I still. Haven't heard back from support.
The next passenger looked relatively normal.
Clean cut, mid 20s, button down shirt tucked into dark jeans.
He smiled as he climbed to the backseat.
(45:52):
Polite nod, no words. The last few rides had been
unsettling to say the least, butthis guy felt different.
Not better, just different. He didn't speak, he didn't need
to. Something in his silence felt
smug, like he already knew me, like we've done this before.
We drove for 15 minutes without a word, then I pulled up to the
(46:13):
hotel. He didn't move.
I shifted into park and turned slightly, still not looking
directly at him, just using the mirror.
This is the address. You're good to go.
He stared at me, no change in expression, no acknowledgement.
And then I heard it. A knock on the driver's side
window. Dad.
(46:34):
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned and there he was,
James, my son and his dress shirt in slacks, standing
outside the hotel, looking confused and a little nervous.
The same hotel he and the groomsmen were staying at
tonight. How could I forget?
I forced a smile. Oh, hey, son, just dropping
someone off. You nervous for tomorrow?
He squinted at me like somethingwas off.
(46:56):
Yeah, can we talk? My stomach tightened.
I had to get this guy out of thecar.
Sure, just let me finish this ride.
I'll come inside after, OK? His eyes drifted past me to the
backseat. Troy, he said.
I froze. The figure in the backseat
leaned forward, resting his elbows casually on the front
headrest. His smile widened.
(47:16):
Hey man, Can you believe this? I ran into your pops and figured
we'd do a quick beer run before the big day.
Hop in. My blood went cold.
No, no, no, that isn't Troy, I thought to myself, but I
couldn't tell James that. I don't know what would happen
if I did. This was bad, really bad.
No. James said, shaking his head in
disbelief. Troy, you were just inside, you
(47:39):
were with the guys. How?
How did he get out here so fast?The figure didn't break
character. He laughed like it was a shared
joke between friends. James looked between us, clearly
unnerved. Dad, who is that?
I don't wait for the thing in the back to answer.
This couldn't go on for any longer.
I slammed the car into drive andtore out of the parking lot,
tire screeching, engine roaring.In the mirror, James was yelling
(48:02):
something, running after us. I couldn't hear him.
You're going to miss the wedding, the thing said, voice
perfectly calm. That's not very fatherly of you.
Shut up, I snapped. You're not getting in my head.
Oh come on it dude, don't be like that.
Your son talks. About you all the time, to me,
to everyone. I kept my eyes on the road, jaw
clenched so tight I could felt feel it in my temples.
(48:24):
Although he doesn't say good things.
You're not a good father, Ben. Shut up.
I hissed, tears bubbling in the corner of my eyes.
You miss birthdays, miss milestones.
What are you even doing now? Trying to show up at the last
second? I pretend it means something.
I gripped the wheel even harder.I wanted to slam the brakes,
throw open the door and drag this thing out by whatever skin
(48:45):
it had stolen. Oh, don't be like that, Ben.
I have something. That will cheer you up, it
whispered. Just keep driving all the way
until the sun comes up. I have something to show you.
I didn't respond, I didn't need to.
My phone buzzed on the seat beside me.
James. Again, I didn't answer.
The only sound of the car was the hum of the tires and that
thing breathing behind me, waiting.
(49:06):
I wasn't sure what to do now. The passenger gave me a drop off
and refused to get out. That hasn't really happened
before. There's no way for me to force
it out either now without looking directly at it.
If I couldn't get this guy to leave before the sun came up, I
was screwed. It was useless.
I pulled over hard, tires kicking up dust on the shoulder
of the road. The thing in the back doesn't
flinch, just smiles like it's been waiting for this moment all
(49:27):
night. I open the glove box and take
out my Glock 45-O. It says that didn't take long.
You already getting tired of me,Ben?
I don't answer. I close my eyes and take a few
deep breaths. Oh, Ben, you don't have to do
this. You're going to miss out on all
the fun I have in store. I don't even turn around.
I raise the gun behind me, steady my breathing, and pull
(49:49):
the trigger. The shot is deafening in the
confined space. I don't look.
I just sit. There, ears ringing, heart
thudding, I wait for a moment, for another voice, but there's
nothing. I finally pick into the rearview
mirror once again. It slumped over in the seat,
still smiling but quiet now, unmoving.
I knew that wasn't going to killthis thing, but it still felt
(50:11):
good. I just needed to shut it up for
a minute. If it wasn't going to leave, so
be it. I had to come to terms with that
fact. I wasn't going to make it to the
wedding. I was going to abandon my son
again, this time for good. The least I could do was say
sorry, tell him I loved them. I just wish I could have done it
sooner. Damn it, I wish I had more time.
(50:31):
I pull out my phone, handshaking.
I try to call James back, but itgoes straight to voicemail.
I speak through the lump in my throat.
Hey, it's Dad. I, I just, I just wanted to say
I'm sorry for everything. I should have been there for
you, I should have, I should have been better.
(50:52):
The thing in the back seat was sitting up right now, dusting
off its blood soaked shirt and slicking back the loose hair.
With the bullet exited I startedto sob into the phone.
But I'm proud of you James, I really am.
Despite all my mistakes, you've done everything right and I'm,
I'm really, really happy I get to be at your wedding.
The mimic was coughing now, pounding his chest with a
(51:12):
closed. Fist.
I heard a loud metallic clang asthe bullet bounced off as one of
its teeth on the way out of its throat.
A stifle of sob and take a deep breath before continuing.
I love you so much, James. I'll.
I'll see you soon, buddy. I hang up, Tears running down my
face, fogging up the screen. I sat there in silence for a few
minutes. I watched as an orange glow
(51:33):
began to rise from the horizon. It was almost sunrise.
I closed my eyes and gripped thesteering wheel and grim
anticipation. This was it.
I wasn't sure what happened if Ibroke a rule, but I knew there
was no coming back from it. Tech support wouldn't be able to
help me out of this one. Then I hear clapping, soft,
slow. I look up in the rear view.
(51:55):
I see this thing clapping and wearing a wide smile.
Only this time it doesn't look as smug.
It appears sincere, genuine. Nice job, Ben, it says, really
touching. It drops a handful of bills into
the seat beside it and steps outof the vehicle.
It ducks its head inside to giveone final farewell.
Congrats on your son's wedding. Then it was gone just before the
(52:19):
sunrise. I'm not sure why I decided to
leave. All the night Passengers want
something, a reaction, a release.
Most of the time it is somethingmean spirited.
They crave anger, heartbreak, desperation.
Maybe this one was benevolent. Maybe you need to experience
something heartfelt, something real.
God knows I needed it too. I'm just glad it's all over.
(52:41):
I didn't take any more rides forthe rest of the night.
I went home, scrubbed the blood off the backseat even though
there wasn't any. Changed the air freshener even
though it still smelled new. Took a long hot shower put on.
The student had warning years. When I looked in the mirror, I
almost didn't recognize myself. I didn't look any different, but
I felt different. I wasn't ashamed of the man that
(53:02):
looked back at me. I was going to be a new person.
I knew it was too late to be a good dad.
I've been a way too long to fix that.
But he would always be my son, and he needed to know that I was
never going to abandon him again.
I got in the car, not for work, just to drive to the wedding,
and for the first time in a longtime I felt something that
(53:26):
almost scared me more than a lifetime of ferrying
supernatural passengers in a right.
Guys, that wraps up some frightening Reddit stories.
I hope you enjoyed this video. I love all these stories.
I thought the all these stories were super unique, creepy, and
super engaging as well. Would you like to see shorter
videos, longer videos like this or a completely different
(53:48):
series? Or would you like to see the
series continue just like this comment down below.
I read every single comment. So please leave your thoughts
and like the video and subscribeto the channel.
It helps more than you know. And I just really appreciate
watching at the end of the video.
It means the world. And if you enjoyed this video,
I'm sure you'll enjoy other videos on this channel.
So check out some other videos on the channel.
I'm sure you'll love it. Welcome.
(54:10):
And this was Snook and I'll see you next time.
Bye.
Hey, what's up guys? And welcome back to another
Reddit stories video. And today we're getting into
some frightening stories from Reddit.
Today's stories are so good. They're frightening, they're
interesting, they're crazy, and you'll just want to make sure to
stick around. I appreciate you stopping by.
Please like the video and subscribe to the channel.
It helps more than you know. And make sure to sit back and
(00:21):
relax, grab a drink, grab a snack, stay hydrated and yeah,
please like and subscribe like Isaid.
And without further ado, let's let's get into some frightening
stories from Reddit. Someone keeps texting me hide
and seek. I wish I hadn't ignored it by
bad Andy the Red. I received the first message 3
(00:42):
days ago. I was on my break at work and I
got a text notification. It was odd, it was from an
unknown number. Normally I ignored those sort of
messages. Spammers and the like usually
showed up with those types of auto texts but this one was
different. It was so strange because no
number showed up at all, just the message hide and seek.
I thought someone might have thewrong number for a friend they
(01:04):
were trying to get in touch withto play a game apparently so I
responded think you have the wrong number.
Not sure who you're trying to reach but they're not here.
I went about the rest of my workday and we're just wrapping
things up. When I pulled my phone from my
bag I saw I had another text waiting for me.
Same number or lack of a number.It was just another blank line
where a number should display inthe message hide and seek.
(01:28):
I was confused and slightly annoyed so I responded again.
Like I said before, I think you have the wrong number.
Who is this? Who are you trying to get a hold
of to play hide and seek? I waited, staring at the screen
for a minute and I was about to put it away when I saw a
response. You hide and seek.
My patience had reached his limit.
(01:49):
And I figured if they would not answer then I just blocked an on
existing number and hope it would work.
Despite the lack. Of a visible number.
The option on the message threadstill presented itself, so I was
relieved when the weird conversation vanished.
I got in my car and started to drive home.
I got another notification as I got on the road and used my
car's text to speech to read it to me.
(02:10):
It was Mike, my roommate. He was asking me to pick up more
beer from the store since he hadapparently finished off what we
had left. I groaned at the message and the
fact that I was always the one to buy it for us.
It was getting old, but I neededa drink after the night I had,
so I sent him a message back saying I can this time, but if
you're going to keep drinking everything we have then you
better start paying for it. I stopped by a nearby gas
(02:32):
station close to our apartment and grabbed the case and Miller
and continued home. As soon as I got back in the
car, I received another text. I was getting annoyed already
since I figured it was Mike complaining about being out of
something else, but instead, as the text to speech read out the
message, I knew it was somethingelse.
Seek drink. It made sense now and I
(02:55):
immediately called Mike. He answered after several rings
and sounded stoned. Hey man, what's up?
Did you grab the beer? Yeah, I did.
Are you messing with me? How are you sending those
messages? When I call you, I can see your
number, but not when you send that weird text.
What kind of app are you using? Also, what is the point?
I'm not home yet, I can't play hide and seek, never mind that
I'm not five years old. The seek drink thing was a bit
(03:18):
of a giveaway for whatever weirdgame you're playing.
There was a brief pause and he responded.
Not sure what you mean, man, I didn't send anything like that.
Weird. Who wants to play hide and seek
anyway? Get home, man, my buzz is
fading. He hung up on me and I was even
more confused. If he had not sent the message,
(03:39):
who did? I drove home feeling a little on
edge. When I got back inside, Mike
greeted me at the door. Of course by greeted I mean he
took the case of beer and walkedto the fridge, removed 2 and sat
back down on the couch. Nice to see you too.
I mumbled under my breath and I wanted to ask again about the
weird message, but I just shrugged and grabbed the drink
(03:59):
for myself and lumber to my room.
I was so tired so I decided to call it an early night.
When I stepped into my room, my phone buzzed and I saw another
text from no number almost time hide or seek.
I was getting creeped out at that point.
I did not know how the messages kept getting through.
(04:20):
After blocking it, I decided to respond again.
Stop messaging me. I do not know who this is and I
do not want to play. Leave me alone.
I hit send and tried blocking itagain.
This time I turned my phone off for good.
I tried to settle down and just go to sleep.
I managed to nod off for a bit, but after a while I heard a
knock at my door. I jolted up and heard the
(04:42):
slurring voice of Mike. Hey man, I don't know what the
hell but I think someone is trying to get a hold of you.
I just got a trippy message and it sounded like what you're
talking about earlier. Check it out.
I rushed at the door and saw Mike looking at his phone and a
confused stepper. I grabbed it from him and looked
at the message. Last chance, hide or seek?
(05:04):
My heart sank and I felt a wave of panic rising to my chest.
I asked Mike when did you get this?
He shrugged his shoulders. A while ago man.
I don't remember exactly. I was not looking at my phone.
What's going on? I step back into my room and
turn my own phone back on. Sure enough I had a missed a
message. OK, you hide.
(05:25):
I stared at the words in mounting fear.
I had no idea what to do, but I felt suddenly exposed.
I considered calling the police,but I did not know what I would
tell them. Nothing had happened, only a
creepy text thread. Yet something felt wrong, like
something bad was about to happen.
I looked over at Mike and he looked confused and a bit
(05:46):
paranoid as well. Before I could try and explain
things, the lights went out. At first I thought it might be a
power outage, then I heard the slow creaking sound of the front
door opening. Despite being sure I'd locked it
when I got home, Tara gripped meand I knew something was very
wrong. I crouched out in the dark and
whispered a mic, the only thing I think to say hide.
(06:08):
I crawled on my floor and under my bed.
I was about to call 911 when my phone suddenly died as well.
It was on one moment and then just lost power despite having
over half a charge left. I put the useless device in my
pocket and tried to see if therewas anything I'd use as a light
source. I froze and thought better about
moving when I heard a strange shuffling sound, then heavy
(06:28):
footsteps, much heavier the mics.
I noticed the temperature in theroom had suddenly dropped and it
felt like it was freezing. As the footsteps resounded and
moves closer, I smelled A fetid tinge in the air as well, like
something rotten. I crawled as far back and
huddled up as small as I could under the bed and held my
(06:49):
breath. I heard my closet door gently
shutting and thought it might beMike Hayden in there.
Then the heavy footsteps picked up the pace.
I suddenly realized if I could hear the door closing, whatever
the hell was in here with us could hear too.
I consider calling out to Mike to move, but fear froze my
voice. The heavy footsteps are in the
room now. Despite my efforts to try and
(07:10):
see what stalked us, I could notmake anything out.
I sat there silent in immobile, holding my breath and waiting.
After several long moments I thought we might be safe.
Then I heard the door to the closet break and shatter.
Then Mike scream. A haunting and nightmare
inducing shriek. Something had found him.
(07:31):
The cry of terror was suddenly silenced.
I did not hear anything violent,just the scream and then utter
silence. I had no idea what the hell had
had just happened. For a long while I sat there
paralyzed with fear until finally the light came back on
when I summoned the courage to creep out from under my bed and
see what had happened. I was shocked when lying on the
(07:54):
floor which the shadow remains of my closet door, despite the
ruin of the door, there are no traces of anyone or anything
else. Mike had vanished.
I slowly called out, louder and more emboldened as I moved into
the hall where the light was on again.
No one responded, no one else was there.
(08:14):
I stumbled through the apartmentsearching for my roommate, but
he was gone. Worse still, I had no idea just
where the hell you had gone. No trace of Mike had shown up in
the last couple days since it happened.
I don't know if anything will. I think he can finally be
declared missing, but I don't know if it will do any good.
It was impossible, but whatever had broken into our place had
(08:35):
found him and now he is missing.He had lost hide and seek in
that thing. Whatever it was took him away.
The entire nightmare is unbelievable.
Yet even now as I write about myfriends impossible
disappearance, I am shocked whenI received another text.
Hide and seek. I don't know what to do.
(08:55):
I don't know what this is. Maybe I should respond again a
different way this time. Maybe might help, might keep me
safe from whatever or whoever isdoing this.
Perhaps I can find out. My reply is one word seek.
I was paid $50,000 to dine with a stranger by its Sunday.
(09:20):
I was broke as shit. Flatline.
Financially, emotionally, existentially, whether by poor
choices in my youth or plain oldshit luck, life spat me out
straight from high school and onto the streets.
Drugs followed rehab, then relapse.
I drifted from couches to shelters to squatting in
abandoned homes. Steady income.
(09:42):
Never heard of it, so when I sawthe e-mail I almost just deleted
it without reading. I figured it was just another
rejection for one of my poorly written job applications until
the header caught my attention. Dinner with me for $50,000.
I'm not exactly attractive. Even before addiction wrecked
the few good features I had, I didn't have much going for me.
(10:04):
My eyes had sunk into my skull like they wanted to disappear.
My skin had forgotten what hydration felt like.
So this e-mail? Ridiculous.
I had no looks, no resume, no justification for being chosen.
But I just left the shelter and 50 grand was a dream, bigger
than anything I'd ever held. So I read on.
It was from a domain I'd seen before.
(10:25):
The message read. Dear recipient, I trust this
message finds you well. I invite you to join me for
dinner at blank. This is not a romantic offer.
You'll be compensated handsomelyfor your time, provided you
adhere to the following terms. Remain for the full meal until I
pay the bill and escort you out.Do not pay for anything
yourself. Wear formal tire.
(10:46):
If you don't own a suit, one will be provided at the
entrance. It will fit.
Any breach will void all compensation.
To accept reply. A time and date will be sent to
decline. Disregard this message.
Did it seem insane? Absolutely.
But desperation makes fools of us all.
The kind of fool that doesn't ask for explanation.
(11:08):
Just a fork and a seat. So I replied.
Hello Shepard. Thank you for your generous
offer. I accept your terms and we'll be
there. May I ask a few questions about
this proposition? Again, thank you.
I didn't expect a response. Maybe a phishing scam, maybe
nothing. But seconds later a reply came.
(11:30):
Monday at 6:00 PM at blank. Questions may be asked at
dinner. Thank you for your cooperation.
More cryptic bullshit. That's when I gained the
smallest amount of common sense and decided to look into whoever
this guy was. This was clearly his business
e-mail, so I googled the domain.S&K can punctuation firm.
(11:51):
I was expecting some big group of lawyers off this name alone,
but Nope. No law firm.
Just a single office tucked in asmall strip mall.
No products, no services, just a.
Photo of the. Branch Manager, despite the fact
that the office barely looked big enough for two people and
the title implied multiple locations, yet I couldn't find
(12:11):
even a second one. What did they do?
Solutions. No specifics, just that one
word. I thought about backing out,
probably should have, but when you've got nothing left,
hesitant starts looking like a luxury.
I had nothing to lose so I took the chance.
Between drug fueled stoppers andgetting my ass kicked once or
twice, Monday crept up on me like bruises do.
(12:33):
Slow, unseen, then sudden. I didn't have anything formal.
So I threw. On the only white button up
shirt I owned and some Gray slacks.
Both had stains I couldn't explain, and no iron had grazed
their surface in years. Still, they were the.
Fanciest clothes I had, none of it mattered.
The second I hobbled into the restaurant, the greeter, if you
could even call them that, handed me a dry clean suit
(12:56):
without a word and point to the bathrooms.
I took the hint. This suit seems expensive.
Real Men's Wearhouse type shit. It fit perfectly, just like the
e-mail said. Too perfectly actually.
The cuffs landed exactly at my wrist bone.
The collar rested like it knew my neck shape already.
I didn't have the time or money to question it.
(13:16):
I walked back out. The place had a strange charm.
Soft lighting spilled across tablecloths and smooth pools of
warmth. Ornate picture frames lined the
walls, filled with abstract paintings that felt a bit too
familiar. Wood trim hugged every surface.
Big glitter curtains hung heavy like a wedding reception.
It smelled like artificial plants and faded fabric.
(13:39):
Soft jazz floated through the air and brushed against my.
Ears. As I scanned the room, I
realized something unsettling. When I first walked in, there
were at least 4 tables of peoplelaughing and enjoying
themselves. It had been noisy and lively,
but now silent, empty. Like a bell had rung that only I
(14:00):
hadn't heard. Just a few bartenders, the mute
greeter, and 1 bald man in a suit eerily similar to mine.
I already knew who he was. His photo was the only thing of
note I'd found when looking up the domain.
The branch manager. I approached his table and
before I could even ask if he was expecting me, he gestured to
(14:20):
the chair across from him. He was an older man, maybe 50,
with sad, droopy eyes. His nose was so thin and pointy
it looked like a shark's fin. He seemed to have no nostrils at
all. His jaws fluttered slightly as
he spoke in a soft, low tone. Thank you for coming, young man,
It's good to finally see you, Hesaid.
(14:40):
Extending an arm for a handshake, I tried my best to
sound steady and firm despite myrising anxiety.
Thank you, Sir. The conversation that followed
was surprisingly pleasant. The food was better than almost
anything I had ever had, decadent and strangely
nostalgic, as if it had been made just for me.
He asked about my childhood, my current working conditions in my
(15:02):
family life. Most of these memories weren't
pleasant, but it felt good to have someone simply listen.
I reached a point where I started laying my guard down.
He never interrupted, never judged, just watched.
Then he got serious. He grabbed my wrist just as I
lifted my fork. His grip was ice cold but
steady, and his tone dropped. What is something you wish you
(15:25):
had never done? What?
I was shocked by a sudden seriousness.
He didn't respond. He just stared, still and
waiting. I.
Swallowed. I I stole from my mom when she
was dying. I was supposed to take care of
her and protect her, but I spenther money on the stuff she told
me to quit. A waitress appeared.
(15:45):
Silently depositing in a small porcelain bowl before me.
Inside sat a single seared scallop resting on a streak of
bright red pepper Collis, it's color straining the white plate
like the shame I carried. The scallops tender flesh gave
way to a flash of heat, a reminder that some wounds never
fully heal. A whisper of lemon zest lifted
(16:07):
the flavors. He nodded, no judgement in his
eyes, only something quietly accepting, then stood and
excused himself to the restroom.As he left, I took a breath and
tried to shake off the moment. Then I noticed it.
The chandelier above us had one more bulb.
Just one. The lighted cast spent slightly
at the edges, stretching the shadows under our plates.
(16:30):
I blinked. Rub my eyes back to normal,
mostly. The jazz had slowed by a
fraction. Notes now lingered a second
longer than they should. He returned, looking subtly
altered. His right side appeared younger
and tighter. The left side remained
unchanged. A crease near his mouth had
(16:50):
vanished, and his smile felt less weighted.
He asked again, gently. What's the kindest thing you've
ever done? I told him about a homeless kid
I'd let sleep in my car on a freezing night.
I didn't know his name and I didn't want anything from him.
I just locked the doors and stayed up until morning in case
someone tried anything. While his gaze lingered, another
(17:10):
course arrived. A hollowed apple cradled in a
warm butternut squash soup, it'ssweetness tempered by sage oil.
The apples. Crisp rim framed the velvety
broth, echoing the way I had sheltered that boy from the
cold. Each spoonful felt like a soft
promise of safety in a world so devoid of it.
(17:31):
This time, as he listened, something in his face responded.
His left eye seemed brighter. In the left side, softened.
He looked younger somehow. Maybe the light was playing
tricks, or maybe the room had grown darker.
He asked another question. What's the worst lie you've ever
told? I hesitated, but I promised
(17:52):
myself I would never recall thismemory.
Yet I felt compelled to the tellthe old man when someone close
to me overdosed. I could have saved them.
I saw them but was frozen in fear, thinking I could be just
like them. When the police came, I told
them he was already dead when I got there.
He nodded again. Still no judgement, just
(18:16):
listening. I'm not sure how, but as I
spoke, a new course appeared. A translucent, steamed dumpling
sat alone, his skin almost too delicate to touch.
The moment I pierced it, a smokychili broth gushed out,
scorching my tongue with the sting of my lies.
The gentle wrapper dissolved into nothing, leaving only the
(18:38):
burn of a secret I thought I buried permanently.
Then he stood and walked away, slower this time.
His chair creaked slightly as herose in.
The floor beneath it curved outward in a way that made no
physical sense. As I waited, I saw the wallpaper
behind the bar begin to bubble faintly, like he was pressing
against it from inside. The curtain seemed heavier.
(19:00):
The picture frames on the wall had begun to tilt, each at a
different angle. Not much, but enough to notice.
Enough to make you wonder. The wait staff didn't change
plates. The glasses refilled themselves,
and I started noticing somethingimpossible.
Everyone in the room had his face.
Not exactly, but similar, like afamily of clones degraded with
(19:22):
each repetition. The bartender blinked with one
bulging eye, and the Hostess, his smile sagged like melting
wax. When he came back, the
distortion had grown wider. His jaw was uneven, One side
shriveled, the other taught as barbed wire.
The contrast of his face was more than physical now, it
radiated something deeper, like halves of a personality that
(19:44):
couldn't agree. He sat.
I scan and me, as if measuring the weight behind my silence.
I wasn't sure if he was evaluating my soul or just
admiring the way panic settled into the corners of my posture.
His voice arrived softly, almostreverent.
What memory do you miss the most?
It took me a moment, not becauseI didn't know, but because I was
(20:07):
afraid to admit how fragile the truth had become.
I used to swim in Lake MI every summer.
I said slowly, With friends. We'd throw ourselves off docks
and scream about sea monsters and cold sandwiches.
It was stupid, but I felt safe, like I didn't owe anything to
anyone. Shepherd's good eye glistened.
(20:30):
A tear formed and trailed down the brighter side of his face.
It lingered at his chin and disappeared into the folds.
The darker side remained unflinching, its socket almost
hollow now. I stared at him, unsure whether
to thank him or run. He didn't speak.
He just stood, his movement slower than time calculated.
(20:52):
Waitly. The chair creaked like it hated
being left alone. This bathroom break felt longer.
The silence thickened and the music was barely on, audible.
The overhead lights dimmed again, and this time they pulse
faintly. One of the picture frames fell
sideways. The bartender wiped the same
spot over and over, faced a voidof emotion, I bulging slightly.
(21:16):
The wallpaper near the entrance was peeling, tiny tendrils
reaching outward the roots. A family circled the wine glass
beside my plate, but never landed, looping endlessly.
I felt my chest tighten. Shepherd returned.
This time he didn't sit. He loomed.
His face was wrong. The cemetery had given up.
One eye bulged fully, twitching and quick spasms.
(21:38):
The other was practically sunken.
His mouth hung slightly open, but no breath escaped.
He said nothing for several seconds, just watched me.
Then, finally. Would you like dessert?
I stood, almost instinctively. I think I need the bathroom, I
said. He nodded slowly.
(21:59):
Take your time. The restroom was too quiet, the
mirror too clean. I leaned forward, expecting to
see my own room and reflected, but instead, behind me in the
mirror, Shepherd waited, not in the room, but in the reflection.
His body was stretched taller than before, suit shimmering
like the surface of a pond. He smiled, both eyes twitching
(22:20):
violently. I didn't scream or move, I just
stepped back out. No, the dining room was nearly
gone. The walls had peeled upward
towards the ceiling. Tables melted into spiraled
masses of dark wood and cloth. The floor rippled like liquid
stone. The curtains had vanished
entirely, leaving a strange static haze where windows had
(22:40):
once been. Shepherd said at the center,
Calm. He's done well, young man, he
said. Repentance is ever easy.
The hardest part is accepting that you are no longer part of
the world. You knew.
My knees threatened to give out.I wanted to argue, to scream, to
run, but nothing in my body responded the way it used to.
(23:01):
Everything had slowed, except him.
What? What do you mean?
I managed to ask. He smiled gently, like a father
comforting a child who had just asked the final, faded question.
This meal, he said, is not payment.
It's passage. No, I whispered.
(23:22):
I walked here. I remember the shelter, the the
e-mail. You remember the drug, he said,
cutting gently across my denial.In the stall in the diner.
You remember how cold the towel was?
You remember how long it took for someone to find you?
I shook my head as if it might rattle the truth loose, but it
didn't help. My legs wouldn't move.
(23:43):
All we offer, he continued, is amoment.
One last conversation, one last taste, one last confession.
The last. The room flaked away like ash in
the wind. The table in front of us
dissolves into nothing. Steam hissed upwards from cracks
in the floor that hadn't been there seconds before.
Shepard extended his hand again.The suit he wore shimmered
(24:05):
strangely, color shifting like moonlight on oceans.
Currents. Patterns swirled across the
threads. Faces, maybe, or shadows, I
couldn't be sure. You did well, he said quietly.
You were honest, that's all we ask.
I felt tears on my cheek, thoughI didn't know how they got
there. What?
(24:26):
Happens now. Shepherd looked over his
shoulder. Behind him, the restaurant was
gone and it's place a hallway ofshifting doors, some open, some
pulsing with warm lights, othersdimmed and sealed.
Now, he said, you choose. My mom's been acting weird
(24:48):
lately by Portal X Mike. For the past week, something's
been off with my mom. She's still doing the all the
usual things, making her black coffee first thing in the
morning, tending the roses in the backyard that she refuses to
let die even though it's August and the heat's brutal.
She still calls me sweetheart, still leaves post its with
(25:08):
gentle reminders to eat, hydrate, sleep.
But she won't look me in the eyes anymore, not for more than
a second or two. I got her watching me last night
from the hallway mirror. I was sitting on the couch,
scrolling on my phone, and I just felt it, that kind of
prickling heat behind your neck,like someone's watching.
I looked up and there she was, standing stiffly behind the
(25:30):
corner, peering in like she was studying something or someone.
When our eyes met, she froze. Then she forced a smile.
You OK, honey? I nodded.
She disappeared down the hallwaylike nothing happened, but I
know she was watching. This morning she left a slice of
toast on the kitchen table for me, same as always, but there
(25:51):
was no butter, no Jelly, not even a napkin.
It was just dry. I asked her if everything was
all right. She hesitated.
Of course, why wouldn't it be? I shrugged.
You just seem distant lately. She looked at me for a long
time. Her fingers were tied around the
coffee mug. Then she said slowly.
Sometimes people change, and sometimes they think no one will
(26:16):
notice. I tried to laugh it off, but my
chest felt hollow underneath thetoast.
It's not just the weird glances or the strange things she says.
She started locking her bedroom door at night.
She never used to do that, and Iswear one night I heard her
whispering behind it, like prayers or warnings.
(26:37):
This morning I woke up and foundher in the living room going
through old photo albums. She didn't even flinch when I
walked in. Looking for something?
I asked. She stared down at a photo of us
from years ago. Me.
At least I think it's me smilingin front of a birthday cake
frosting on my chin. Her eyes flicked up to my face,
then back to the photo. Her hands were trembling.
(26:59):
Used to have a mole. She whispered.
I blinked. What, on your left cheeks?
He said. Tap in the photo.
Where is it? I touched my cheek.
I I guess it faded. Her lips pressed into a tight
line. Moles don't fade.
I couldn't think of anything to say, just stood there like an
idiot. Tonight she left a knife under
(27:21):
her pillow. I saw it when I walked past her
room. The door was cracked open and
she was pretending to sleep, butI saw her fingers crawled tight
around the blanket like she was bracing for something.
I think she's afraid of me. And The thing is, I've been
having dreams. Dreams of things that don't make
sense. I hear echoes, I see a forest,
(27:44):
wet leaves. I even smell smoke in the face.
My face staring at me with wide,terrified eyes.
As I reached out for him, as I stepped into my skin, I started
to question myself. What am I?
Am I really who I am? Then one night I go to the
bathroom and look in the mirror and see all the imperfections,
(28:05):
all the mistakes. Then I see it.
I see what my mom sees. I'm not her son and my mom knows
it. I've been a cab driver for over
a decade. There are rules when driving
passengers at night by Mythic Melon.
There's a reason we're scared ofthe dark.
(28:26):
That familiar discomfort when you're driving alone at night,
even if you don't see anyone on the road around you.
It's instinct, a warning built into your bones.
Because there are things out there, beans we can't explain.
They don't show up on camera. They don't care about your
pepper spray. But they follow rules.
Ancient ones. Rituals, maybe.
(28:49):
I don't know where they come from or who made them, but I've
learned this much. If you follow the rules, they'll
leave you alone. I just never thought I'd
experienced something like that behind the wheel of a damn cab.
People think being in a rideshare driver is simple and
the right for the most part. You drive, you talk, If they
want to talk, you drop them off.You get paid.
(29:09):
No real boss breathing down yourneck, no office politics, no
deadlines. Just the road, your car, and a
playlist long enough to keep youentertained between rides.
That's why I started doing it inthe first place after I left my
old job. I don't want to deal with people
anymore. Not really.
I've been a mechanic for 20 years, ran my own shop until my
(29:29):
knees gave out and my business went to shit.
The rideshare apps came at the right time.
I didn't have to smile if I didn't want to.
I didn't have to fix anybody's problems, just get them where
they were going. During the day it's easy.
College kids heading to class, nurses pulling double s, grocery
stores, runs for people without cars.
Honest, quiet work. Sometimes I'd even enjoy the
(29:50):
small tack. I liked hearing about their
lives, felt like I was doing something good, even if it was
just five stars and a quiet thanks.
But at night, things change. The air gets heavy, the people
get strange. I remember when I first heard
about the rules of the road after sundown.
Not guidelines, not suggestions,rules.
(30:12):
They show up on the app the second the sun begins to set.
And if you break one, well, let's just say you don't want to
find out what happens. I'm sure this is very confusing
to hear for the first time, so let me explain.
Every night shift starts the same right after sunset, the app
buzzes and emits a strange sound.
Not a standard chirp. A notification makes something
(30:33):
dull and stringy, like a warningsiren before a storm.
On a much smaller scale, of course, the screen goes black
just before a message appears inblocky text.
Night shift protocol active between sunset and sunrise.
Number one, do not look at passengers directly.
Use the rear view mirror if you must.
Two, do not accept payment greater than the cab fare.
(30:57):
Never take gifts. Three, only process one ride at
a time. Never allow multiple passengers
in your car. 4 Make sure your final passenger is dropped off
before sunrise. I review them every time even
though I've got them memorized. I don't know if the app updates
them or if something darker is watching to make sure I read
(31:17):
them. Either way, I never skip that
screen. At least I don't anymore.
I made the mistake of ignoring the rules once, and that was one
time too many. I never really was a
superstitious man. Back when I started doing
nights, I laughed. Rules like these felt like a
joke. Some edgy tech campaign or
something. The kind of stuff that gets
passed around on Halloween to show they're being hip and
(31:40):
festive. But The thing is, these rules,
they're the real deal. The consequences are even more
real. I learned that the hard way.
It started with something small,just a guy who insisted on
paying double. He said he appreciated my
service, said I looked tired andwanted to bless me.
He pulled out a crisp 100 and set it gently on the center
(32:02):
console. I told him no.
He insisted. I told him again.
He smiled and slipped into the cup holder.
It's yours either way man. I didn't touch it, just left it
there until he was gone. I mean, what's the harm?
The guy looked unremarkable after all.
A middle-aged gentleman was slicked back, salt and pepper
hair, reading glasses, T-shirt and a vest.
(32:25):
Gave me easygoing surfer vibes. Then I looked up in the mirror.
He was still there. I heard him leave, heard the
door shut behind him and some disappeared into the dark, but
he was there, grinning. His eyes were all black.
He mouthed something, but the words didn't match the movement,
like a broken puppet trying to whisper a prayer.
(32:47):
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
I reached back, heart pounding. The sea was empty.
He was nowhere to be found except for the mirror.
He stayed there for the rest of the drive, just smiling,
chatting away. I parked my cab in the farthest
corner of my apartments lot, locked the doors, and went
inside. That $100 bill state exactly
(33:09):
where it was, untouched, hummingwith some quiet, invisible
pressure. I could feel its presence
everywhere I went. Something was trying to make me
go back for it. Spend it, maybe.
I wasn't sure, but I needed helpto make it go away.
I contacted. Support through the app.
There's no helpline, no human name, just a form with one
(33:31):
question. Describe your incident.
I typed away everything. The passenger, the tip, the
mirror. I waited, I felt so silly. 24
hours later I got a reply. Protocol breach acknowledged.
Remedial steps required before chefs may resume.
(33:51):
Burn the foreign currency. Avoid seafood for two full days.
Thanks for contacting Technical Support.
That was it. No apology, no explanation, just
instructions. I picked up the $100 bill like
it was a loaded firearm and was surprised by the weight of it.
I went out to the alley behind my complex and set on fire in a
(34:12):
soup can. The flames hissed green for a
moment, then evaporated. It didn't smell like money
burning, it smelled like salt and old fish.
I skipped sushi that week. Thankfully I'm not much of A
fish guy, but the third night the app let me log in again and
like nothing ever happened. The rides returned.
It has been pretty smooth sailing ever since.
(34:33):
Not every shift is terrifying. Some are just weird.
Like the woman in the bright yellow dress who got in without
saying a word and only whisperedher destination, the bog.
Or the man who didn't blink, stared straight ahead and
screamed every time we passed the fire hydrant.
The weirdest ride I ever gave was from last November.
(34:54):
It was around 3:12 AM, that deadstretch of time where the world
feels empty. I was parked near the outskirts
of town, engine idling, watchinga moth dive repeatedly into the
windshield. A ping came through.
There was no address, just coordinates.
I almost declined. Nobody lives way out there, it's
all farmland and old sheds. But I was behind on rents and I
(35:16):
was pretty good at following therules.
At this point. The profile picture was blank,
name just said M Fine, I accepted.
As I approached the pickup spot,my headlights hit something
standing in the middle of the road.
A man, no, a figure, very still,dressed in old fashioned
(35:38):
clothes, Black Hat, long coat, hands folded in front of him
like he was at a funeral. I stopped.
He didn't move. I glanced at the app.
The pin was directly on him. Against my better judgement, I
rolled down the window a few inches.
Hey you M. The figure nodded once.
I unlocked the doors and pulled up the rules panels on my app
(36:01):
and my phone. Same rules as always, no change.
I read over the first one for good measure.
Do not look at passengers directly.
Use the rear view mirror if you must.
Right. He opened the back door and slid
in. Didn't speak, just sat there,
the seat creaking under his weight.
I pulled away from the shoulder and merged back onto the main
(36:22):
road. The silence was suffocating.
I snuck a glance into the rear view mirror.
At first I saw nothing, then themere fogged up as if someone had
breathed on it from the inside. I like the way the condensation
with my thumb and nearly jumped in my seat at what was the real
behind. The figure in the back seat
(36:42):
wasn't looking at me. It was holding something, a
large postcard pressed flat against its face like a mask.
Long fingers curled around the edges, fingers with nails so
long and yellow they looked rotted just the side of them
since a cold wave down my spine.I leaned forward just slightly,
enough to make out the writing. 2 words scrawled across the card
(37:05):
and what looked like red ink or blood.
I couldn't tell. Just drive, it said.
I didn't ask questions. I drove for 40 minutes.
We cruised past silent fields, dead gas stations, and stretches
of Rd. I swear I'd never seen on any
map. I didn't get a destination
update. No timer, just me, the road and
(37:28):
whatever was sitting behind me. The silence felt thicker than
usual. The only sound was the low hum
of the engine and the occasionalcreak of the frame like the car
itself felt uneasy. I kept checking the rear view,
but the mirror kept fogging up over and over.
I wiped it clean with the side of my hand, each time revealing
the same thing. He was closer.
(37:50):
At first he was sitting upright,stiff, almost mannequin like.
Next time he was leaning slightly forward, then his knees
were nearly touching the back ofmy seat.
His hat was old and stained, thebrim tipped just low enough to
hide most of his face. Torn in one corner, frayed like
it had been dragged through gravel.
I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them like heat on the
(38:13):
back of my neck. A cold sweat was forming along
my forehead. I didn't know what to do.
No name, no timer, no destination.
That had never happened before. I gripped the wheel tighter and
kept driving hard, pounding louder than the tires on the
asphalt. What do I do if he doesn't
leave? What if he just sits there until
the sun comes up? Something bad would happen.
(38:35):
I didn't know what exactly, but I knew the rules.
This wasn't just another creepy fare.
At exactly 4:00 AM, he tapped the window twice.
I pulled over. Before I could say a word, the
door creaked open and slammed shut.
I checked the mirror. Fog gone.
Seats empty. Except for something left
behind. There was a small envelope with
(38:57):
one of those fancy wax seals. Inside was a bunch of tattered
cash wrapped in a classy red bow.
Not a cent over the fare, thank God.
I set it aside and sat there fora while, just breathing.
The car was finally quiet. Still, that night feels like it
happened ages ago. I'm more seasoned now.
(39:18):
Passengers without destinations.Common occurrence these.
Days. It took me a while to realize
they're not chasing a place, they're chasing a feeling, a
reaction. They're insatiable like that.
But I've learned a lot since then.
I know better than to feed theirdesires.
You give them. The cold shoulder long enough,
and eventually they leave. These days I'm more composed,
(39:39):
like a prison warden ferrying rowdy inmates.
I've bought a pistol. It sits in the glove
compartment, mostly idle, but ifsomeone in the back gets bold,
starts creeping too close, a little flash of the barrels are
usually enough. They growl, they curse, slam the
door behind them. Cab fare left on the seat.
Not a cent overpaid. I don't bother being gentle.
(40:00):
It's not like they can tip me. But tonight I'm feeling a bit
more anxious than usual. It isn't because of the job.
Nope. Supernatural cab passengers are
a walk in the park compared to what I have in store.
Tomorrow. My son's getting married.
I haven't been part of his life,not really.
That was my fault. I kept my distance after the
divorce, told myself he'd be better off without me hovering
(40:22):
around. No awkward visits, no clumsy
father son talks, just space. But when the invitation came, I
cried. I just sat on the couch,
clutching the envelope and criedlike I hadn't in years.
There was no way I was missing it.
I've missed too much already. I should be resting by now,
getting ready for the big day, but I needed to calm my nerves.
(40:43):
For some odd reason, this job does it to me.
Midnight hits the AP Dings. First round of the night.
I take a deep breath and swipe to accept.
Got to focus, just get through the shift, then straight to the
hotel, change into the suit and head to the ceremony.
The guy who gets in looks normal.
Collared shirt, dark jeans, clean cut.
(41:06):
He slides into the backseat without a word at first.
I start driving. A few blocks in, he speaks up.
Big night. I nod.
Yeah, my son's getting married tomorrow.
Oh, that's great. What's his name?
I hesitate. James, your pizza's slow.
Real slow. James.
(41:28):
Strong name. What time's the wedding?
2, I say. Eyes fix on the road.
He grins. That's wonderful.
You must be proud. I give a tight smile, but don't
answer. Something about the way he's
asking all of this makes me uneasy.
It's not the questions. People make small talk all the
time. It's the way he leans in when he
(41:49):
speaks, like he already knows the answers, like he's
confirming something. We pull up to his drop off.
He thanks me, steps out and juststands there on the curb,
staring through the rear window.I look straight ahead and
pretend not to notice. After a few seconds, he
disappears into the dark. I sit there in silence, hands
(42:10):
still on the wheel. That was strange, even stranger
than usual. Then it hits me.
The rules. I forgot to check the rules
tonight. I pulled up the app and swiped
to the rules section. Crap.
There's a new rule. Don't talk to the passengers
about your personal life. I stare at the screen, like
maybe I'm reading it wrong. Like maybe it's always been
(42:32):
there and I just never noticed. But I know better.
That rule wasn't there yesterday.
My heart starts pounding. I pull over, open the app and
send a message to support Something simple.
There's a new rule. I broke it.
How bad is this? What should I do?
No reply, silence ensued. Last time I broke the rules, it
took 24 hours to respond, and I don't have 24 hours.
(42:56):
Eventually I pull back onto the road.
I figure I'll do a couple more drops offs.
Keeps things simple. Maybe if I don't mess up again,
everything will smooth over. The next few passengers seem
normal enough, quiet, but there's this weird vibe, that
kind of smugness. A few of them chuckle under
their breath. One guy keeps stealing glances
at me in the rear view, like I'mthe punchline to some inside
(43:18):
joke. Another girl won't stop smiling,
just this too wide grin, like she knows some deep dark secret
about me. It starts to wear on me by the
third ride like that. My stomach's turning.
And then it gets worse. My next pickup is a woman
standing alone on the corner in full wedding attire, a long
white dress, veil, oquette. It looks new, clean, not like a
(43:42):
Halloween thing. This looks real expensive.
She doesn't speak when she gets in, just hum softly.
Then she starts singing Here Comes the Bride over and over
again, whispered off key, like she's only half remembering the
melody. The hair on my arm stands up.
I drive in silence, try not to react.
(44:03):
She keeps singing all the way toher destination, and just before
she opens the door she leans forward and whispers, So when's
the wedding? I say nothing.
She tilts her head like a confused bird.
Then she gets out and drifts offinto the dark, dragging the
bottom of the dress behind her. I'm breathing hard now, knuckles
(44:24):
white on the wheel. Next ride, a guy in a wrinkled
button up shirt, tie hanging loose.
He climbs in already shouting Hewas a goddamn mechanic and you
know what? He was useless signing his ass
for 20 years and expects me to be grateful I keep driving.
He doesn't stop. My fiance wants me to invite
him. Can you believe that?
To my own wedding? She doesn't know the guy.
(44:45):
Hell, I don't even know the guy.He starts banging his first on
the seat in rhythm, like he's working himself up to something.
I glanced in the rearview. Big mistake.
His eyes are wide, wild, right around the edges.
There's something shiny in his lap.
For a second, I think it's a phone.
It's not. Without warning, he raises a
pistol, sticks it under his chin, and pulls the trigger.
(45:10):
A deafening pop. The windshield doesn't shatter,
but I hear the spray at the backwindow.
He slumped sideways. The door opens on its own, like
someone is helping him out. I hear his body land on the
sidewalk with a thump and the door slam shut behind him.
I don't stop, I don't check. I just keep driving.
Like I said, I'm a seasoned driver now.
(45:31):
Sad to say this isn't the first time one of these loons popped
themselves in the backseat to try and get me to turn around.
I have bigger issues to worry about.
The rule break hung heavy in my head.
And I still. Haven't heard back from support.
The next passenger looked relatively normal.
Clean cut, mid 20s, button down shirt tucked into dark jeans.
He smiled as he climbed to the backseat.
(45:52):
Polite nod, no words. The last few rides had been
unsettling to say the least, butthis guy felt different.
Not better, just different. He didn't speak, he didn't need
to. Something in his silence felt
smug, like he already knew me, like we've done this before.
We drove for 15 minutes without a word, then I pulled up to the
(46:13):
hotel. He didn't move.
I shifted into park and turned slightly, still not looking
directly at him, just using the mirror.
This is the address. You're good to go.
He stared at me, no change in expression, no acknowledgement.
And then I heard it. A knock on the driver's side
window. Dad.
(46:34):
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned and there he was,
James, my son and his dress shirt in slacks, standing
outside the hotel, looking confused and a little nervous.
The same hotel he and the groomsmen were staying at
tonight. How could I forget?
I forced a smile. Oh, hey, son, just dropping
someone off. You nervous for tomorrow?
He squinted at me like somethingwas off.
(46:56):
Yeah, can we talk? My stomach tightened.
I had to get this guy out of thecar.
Sure, just let me finish this ride.
I'll come inside after, OK? His eyes drifted past me to the
backseat. Troy, he said.
I froze. The figure in the backseat
leaned forward, resting his elbows casually on the front
headrest. His smile widened.
(47:16):
Hey man, Can you believe this? I ran into your pops and figured
we'd do a quick beer run before the big day.
Hop in. My blood went cold.
No, no, no, that isn't Troy, I thought to myself, but I
couldn't tell James that. I don't know what would happen
if I did. This was bad, really bad.
No. James said, shaking his head in
disbelief. Troy, you were just inside, you
(47:39):
were with the guys. How?
How did he get out here so fast?The figure didn't break
character. He laughed like it was a shared
joke between friends. James looked between us, clearly
unnerved. Dad, who is that?
I don't wait for the thing in the back to answer.
This couldn't go on for any longer.
I slammed the car into drive andtore out of the parking lot,
tire screeching, engine roaring.In the mirror, James was yelling
(48:02):
something, running after us. I couldn't hear him.
You're going to miss the wedding, the thing said, voice
perfectly calm. That's not very fatherly of you.
Shut up, I snapped. You're not getting in my head.
Oh come on it dude, don't be like that.
Your son talks. About you all the time, to me,
to everyone. I kept my eyes on the road, jaw
clenched so tight I could felt feel it in my temples.
(48:24):
Although he doesn't say good things.
You're not a good father, Ben. Shut up.
I hissed, tears bubbling in the corner of my eyes.
You miss birthdays, miss milestones.
What are you even doing now? Trying to show up at the last
second? I pretend it means something.
I gripped the wheel even harder.I wanted to slam the brakes,
throw open the door and drag this thing out by whatever skin
(48:45):
it had stolen. Oh, don't be like that, Ben.
I have something. That will cheer you up, it
whispered. Just keep driving all the way
until the sun comes up. I have something to show you.
I didn't respond, I didn't need to.
My phone buzzed on the seat beside me.
James. Again, I didn't answer.
The only sound of the car was the hum of the tires and that
thing breathing behind me, waiting.
(49:06):
I wasn't sure what to do now. The passenger gave me a drop off
and refused to get out. That hasn't really happened
before. There's no way for me to force
it out either now without looking directly at it.
If I couldn't get this guy to leave before the sun came up, I
was screwed. It was useless.
I pulled over hard, tires kicking up dust on the shoulder
of the road. The thing in the back doesn't
flinch, just smiles like it's been waiting for this moment all
(49:27):
night. I open the glove box and take
out my Glock 45-O. It says that didn't take long.
You already getting tired of me,Ben?
I don't answer. I close my eyes and take a few
deep breaths. Oh, Ben, you don't have to do
this. You're going to miss out on all
the fun I have in store. I don't even turn around.
I raise the gun behind me, steady my breathing, and pull
(49:49):
the trigger. The shot is deafening in the
confined space. I don't look.
I just sit. There, ears ringing, heart
thudding, I wait for a moment, for another voice, but there's
nothing. I finally pick into the rearview
mirror once again. It slumped over in the seat,
still smiling but quiet now, unmoving.
I knew that wasn't going to killthis thing, but it still felt
(50:11):
good. I just needed to shut it up for
a minute. If it wasn't going to leave, so
be it. I had to come to terms with that
fact. I wasn't going to make it to the
wedding. I was going to abandon my son
again, this time for good. The least I could do was say
sorry, tell him I loved them. I just wish I could have done it
sooner. Damn it, I wish I had more time.
(50:31):
I pull out my phone, handshaking.
I try to call James back, but itgoes straight to voicemail.
I speak through the lump in my throat.
Hey, it's Dad. I, I just, I just wanted to say
I'm sorry for everything. I should have been there for
you, I should have, I should have been better.
(50:52):
The thing in the back seat was sitting up right now, dusting
off its blood soaked shirt and slicking back the loose hair.
With the bullet exited I startedto sob into the phone.
But I'm proud of you James, I really am.
Despite all my mistakes, you've done everything right and I'm,
I'm really, really happy I get to be at your wedding.
The mimic was coughing now, pounding his chest with a
(51:12):
closed. Fist.
I heard a loud metallic clang asthe bullet bounced off as one of
its teeth on the way out of its throat.
A stifle of sob and take a deep breath before continuing.
I love you so much, James. I'll.
I'll see you soon, buddy. I hang up, Tears running down my
face, fogging up the screen. I sat there in silence for a few
minutes. I watched as an orange glow
(51:33):
began to rise from the horizon. It was almost sunrise.
I closed my eyes and gripped thesteering wheel and grim
anticipation. This was it.
I wasn't sure what happened if Ibroke a rule, but I knew there
was no coming back from it. Tech support wouldn't be able to
help me out of this one. Then I hear clapping, soft,
slow. I look up in the rear view.
(51:55):
I see this thing clapping and wearing a wide smile.
Only this time it doesn't look as smug.
It appears sincere, genuine. Nice job, Ben, it says, really
touching. It drops a handful of bills into
the seat beside it and steps outof the vehicle.
It ducks its head inside to giveone final farewell.
Congrats on your son's wedding. Then it was gone just before the
(52:19):
sunrise. I'm not sure why I decided to
leave. All the night Passengers want
something, a reaction, a release.
Most of the time it is somethingmean spirited.
They crave anger, heartbreak, desperation.
Maybe this one was benevolent. Maybe you need to experience
something heartfelt, something real.
God knows I needed it too. I'm just glad it's all over.
(52:41):
I didn't take any more rides forthe rest of the night.
I went home, scrubbed the blood off the backseat even though
there wasn't any. Changed the air freshener even
though it still smelled new. Took a long hot shower put on.
The student had warning years. When I looked in the mirror, I
almost didn't recognize myself. I didn't look any different, but
I felt different. I wasn't ashamed of the man that
(53:02):
looked back at me. I was going to be a new person.
I knew it was too late to be a good dad.
I've been a way too long to fix that.
But he would always be my son, and he needed to know that I was
never going to abandon him again.
I got in the car, not for work, just to drive to the wedding,
and for the first time in a longtime I felt something that
(53:26):
almost scared me more than a lifetime of ferrying
supernatural passengers in a right.
Guys, that wraps up some frightening Reddit stories.
I hope you enjoyed this video. I love all these stories.
I thought the all these stories were super unique, creepy, and
super engaging as well. Would you like to see shorter
videos, longer videos like this or a completely different
(53:48):
series? Or would you like to see the
series continue just like this comment down below.
I read every single comment. So please leave your thoughts
and like the video and subscribeto the channel.
It helps more than you know. And I just really appreciate
watching at the end of the video.
It means the world. And if you enjoyed this video,
I'm sure you'll enjoy other videos on this channel.
So check out some other videos on the channel.
I'm sure you'll love it. Welcome.
(54:10):
And this was Snook and I'll see you next time.
Bye.
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