August 29, 2020 • 10 mins
A short preview of some bonus content that I'll be putting out as a thank you to my Patrons! Short stories from r/LetsNotMeet, and other sources around the internet. These stories are creepy, allegedly true, and told in an unsettling ASMR style. You can get the full episode by becoming a Patron! Enjoy...Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=29802408http://worsethanfictionpodcast.com/https://www.facebook.com/WorseThanFictionPodcasthttps://twitter.com/WorseTFPodcast
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:00):
If you like weird and strange historyas much as I do, then I
have the podcast for you. I'mJason Horton most of Strange Year. Each
episode I break down the strange historyand cultural happenings during that year, like
nineteen seventy seven, the Wow Signalnineteen sixty three, Three Tramps Theory eighteen
forty four, the Millerite Movement nineteenninety seven, The Phoenix Lights eighteen ninety
six, The Shortest War two thousandand four, Benjamin Kyle fifteen eighteen,
(00:22):
The Dancing Plague nineteen eighty five,the move Bombing nineteen seventy two. Remote
Viewing. So to get your weeklyweird history fixed, pause the podcast you're
listening to right now, and subscribeto Strange Year wherever you listen to podcasts.
(00:43):
Hello patrons, Today, I havea collection of true stories from the
Internet posted by regular people. WhileI can't confirm that they are one hundred
percent true, they are certainly terrifyingand believable. So get your best set
of headphones, dim the lights,close your eyes, and enjoy these short
(01:07):
stories. Under the street Light byKing's Apprentice. Hi, everyone, I've
got this story that has happened tome a dozen years ago that I've added
on Let's Not Meet a couple yearsback, but had to cancel my account
(01:30):
due to a misunderstanding with fellow reditors, thus removing the story from Reddit as
well. Hopefully my writing will haveimproved by all the hours spent reading books
in English and especially lately from StephenKing, which I'm a big fan of.
(01:51):
At the time of events, mybrother, my father, and I,
sixteen year old male are road trippingthrough Nevada and California as my graduation
gift. It is the end ofAugust, and after a long trip coming
from Las Vegas, cruising through LosAngeles, and heading north across California,
(02:14):
we decided to stay in beautiful SantaBarbara for a few days. My father
finds a motel not far from thebeach, and we are all in wonder
as to the movielike beauty of thecity we are staying in in the event
of our first night there. Beingback to the motel shortly after feasting on
(02:37):
greasy and savory pizza from Rusty's PizzaParlor and walking along one of the most
beautiful beaches in the USA, Istart to get bored in the room after
having watched the television with my fatherand my brother for about an hour.
To change the scenery a bit,I decided to peek through our room window.
(03:00):
As I kneel on the raspy purplecarpeted floor and draw the thick and
heavy curtains out, a sense ofdread takes hold of my whole being.
I'm startled by the thing I seeright across the street about a hundred feet
from my window. What I'm lookingat is at odds with the beautiful picturelike
(03:22):
frame created by the motel lobby entrancearch, delimiting it from my field of
view. A beautiful shadow and lightsetting created by the street light beam on
the pavement on the under side ofthe road reveals this man, whose physical
traits are hooded by the shadows castdownward by the light. Right under the
(03:46):
street light. He's standing half inthe light, half in the dark of
the night, as as if inthe knowing of the effect the lighting has
on him. He looks like he'sin his twenties early thirties and stares right
at me, his gaze like alaser beam. I can feel all the
way down to my kidneys. Ican't see his crazy eyes from this distance,
(04:13):
but I can feel them, andmy subconscious picks up on the intent,
which is not good. He seemsto have waited for me to look
at him for a long time,as if he knew it would happen.
He seems to have known, justas you know you will hear thunder after
seeing lightning. A few seconds afterhe's made aware of my awareness of his
(04:36):
presence, Still staring at me,he starts in a slow clockwork motion,
slighting his index finger sideways across histhroat underneath his jaw, from left to
right, over and over again.It is as if he silently tells me,
I'll kill you. That's right,I'll kill you. Yes, Yes.
(05:01):
As the floor beneath me starts tosink and a taste of metal overwhelms
the top of my tongue, Iclose the curtains as quick as if my
life depends on it. I thenturned my upper body away from the window
toward my father and tell him whatI just saw. He seems to shrug
(05:21):
it off, and talking over thebaseball game on TV, tells me to
let it go. But I canfeel along with this calm vibe of arrogant
carefreeness coming from him, a hintof uneasiness that I can taste on the
back of my mouth. Thirty secondsgo by, and I stupidly kneel uncomfortably
(05:45):
again on the motel carpet below thewindow sill. After loudly swallowing for luck.
Against my best judgment, I drawthe curtains a second time, but
this time my hands stop at thewidth of my head allow going into view
just enough of the outside world tobe able to grasp at what is happening
outside of my seemingly safe motel room. There he is again, only this
(06:13):
time the man is standing two thirdsof the way to where he stood the
first time I saw him. Hisfacial traits are now darkened by the lack
of a street light, but Ican feel his crazy gaze. He is
under the motel lobby parking lot arch. There is not much light where he
(06:35):
stands, but I can still perceivehim doing his throat slicing gesture. That's
right, I'll kill you, hestill communicates to me through his pantomime.
There is this desperate feeling of unfairdoom and realizing that your poor, vulnerable
self is the target of something evilthat doesn't know you as a being with
(07:00):
needs and fears, but knows andwants something from you which you are oblivious
to. I'm starting to feel queasyand frightened. I close the curtains quickly
once again and tell my dad againof the man's presence and his approaching of
the room. I get on thebed, trying to concentrate on the TV
(07:24):
to forget what I've just witnessed.I don't remember if my Dad looks through
the window to confirm what's happening.I remember him telling me to stop looking
outside if what I see is scaringme, and that we are safe in
the room, which is locked.After what seems like a few minutes passing,
(07:46):
I peek again for the last time. This time the man is right
in the parking lot, about fiftyfeet from our motel room, doing his
gesture again. I start thinking thatthe man is probably mentally ill or something,
and that I better stop looking atthe window again. A clever thing
(08:07):
to do, I tell myself.The man's behavior, although redundant and pathetic,
nonetheless strikes me as being ominous andfrightening. The night goes on with
that feeling that even if I'm probablysafe inside our room, there is this
disturbed man missing a few cogs,who's got nothing to lose outside the room,
(08:33):
that behaves as if he wants nothinggood from me. As far as
I know, he could be leaningright on the window glass a few minutes
from now. If this keeps going, would he be grinning or not?
Would he raise his arm to gentlytap on the window while kneeling under the
window sill. I try not tothink about it. I sleep uneasily that
(08:58):
night. The following morning, notwanting to go outside of the room,
I decide to stay in with mybrother while my father goes in the motel
lobby to fetch orange juice breakfast andto speak to the motel clerk about the
man outside. My father comes backafter a couple of minutes with our breakfast
(09:20):
and tells me that the clerk toldhim that the guy who frightened me the
night before is known in the areafor his mental illnesses. He's probably a
schizophrenic, as what the guy saidto my father. My dad then reassures
me that the clerk told him theman is not dangerous and that we're safe
(09:41):
staying there for another couple of nights. Luckily, I never see the man
again for the duration of our staythere. Fast forward a couple of years,
my father and I are reminiscing aboutour trip to California, and especially
about those days in Santa Barbara whenthe mentally ill man threatening me with his
(10:03):
finger outside of our motel room.Is mentioned in the conversation. My father,
as if relieved from not having tokeep this thing secret anymore, let's
out that the morning after that dreadfulnight, the motel clerk had in fact
told him to be careful with theman. He had told him that he
(10:24):
was, in fact dangerous. Mydad just didn't want to scare us telling
us the truth. I thanked himfor lying to me that morning, and
we agreed that luckily, we neversaw the man again during our stay there.
If you like weird and strange historyas much as I do, then I
have the podcast for you. I'mJason Horton most of Strange Year. Each
episode I break down the strange historyand cultural happenings during that year, like
nineteen seventy seven, the Wow Signalnineteen sixty three, Three Tramps Theory eighteen
forty four, the Millerite Movement nineteenninety seven, The Phoenix Lights eighteen ninety
six, The Shortest War two thousandand four, Benjamin Kyle fifteen eighteen,
(00:22):
The Dancing Plague nineteen eighty five,the move Bombing nineteen seventy two. Remote
Viewing. So to get your weeklyweird history fixed, pause the podcast you're
listening to right now, and subscribeto Strange Year wherever you listen to podcasts.
(00:43):
Hello patrons, Today, I havea collection of true stories from the
Internet posted by regular people. WhileI can't confirm that they are one hundred
percent true, they are certainly terrifyingand believable. So get your best set
of headphones, dim the lights,close your eyes, and enjoy these short
(01:07):
stories. Under the street Light byKing's Apprentice. Hi, everyone, I've
got this story that has happened tome a dozen years ago that I've added
on Let's Not Meet a couple yearsback, but had to cancel my account
(01:30):
due to a misunderstanding with fellow reditors, thus removing the story from Reddit as
well. Hopefully my writing will haveimproved by all the hours spent reading books
in English and especially lately from StephenKing, which I'm a big fan of.
(01:51):
At the time of events, mybrother, my father, and I,
sixteen year old male are road trippingthrough Nevada and California as my graduation
gift. It is the end ofAugust, and after a long trip coming
from Las Vegas, cruising through LosAngeles, and heading north across California,
(02:14):
we decided to stay in beautiful SantaBarbara for a few days. My father
finds a motel not far from thebeach, and we are all in wonder
as to the movielike beauty of thecity we are staying in in the event
of our first night there. Beingback to the motel shortly after feasting on
(02:37):
greasy and savory pizza from Rusty's PizzaParlor and walking along one of the most
beautiful beaches in the USA, Istart to get bored in the room after
having watched the television with my fatherand my brother for about an hour.
To change the scenery a bit,I decided to peek through our room window.
(03:00):
As I kneel on the raspy purplecarpeted floor and draw the thick and
heavy curtains out, a sense ofdread takes hold of my whole being.
I'm startled by the thing I seeright across the street about a hundred feet
from my window. What I'm lookingat is at odds with the beautiful picturelike
(03:22):
frame created by the motel lobby entrancearch, delimiting it from my field of
view. A beautiful shadow and lightsetting created by the street light beam on
the pavement on the under side ofthe road reveals this man, whose physical
traits are hooded by the shadows castdownward by the light. Right under the
(03:46):
street light. He's standing half inthe light, half in the dark of
the night, as as if inthe knowing of the effect the lighting has
on him. He looks like he'sin his twenties early thirties and stares right
at me, his gaze like alaser beam. I can feel all the
way down to my kidneys. Ican't see his crazy eyes from this distance,
(04:13):
but I can feel them, andmy subconscious picks up on the intent,
which is not good. He seemsto have waited for me to look
at him for a long time,as if he knew it would happen.
He seems to have known, justas you know you will hear thunder after
seeing lightning. A few seconds afterhe's made aware of my awareness of his
(04:36):
presence, Still staring at me,he starts in a slow clockwork motion,
slighting his index finger sideways across histhroat underneath his jaw, from left to
right, over and over again.It is as if he silently tells me,
I'll kill you. That's right,I'll kill you. Yes, Yes.
(05:01):
As the floor beneath me starts tosink and a taste of metal overwhelms
the top of my tongue, Iclose the curtains as quick as if my
life depends on it. I thenturned my upper body away from the window
toward my father and tell him whatI just saw. He seems to shrug
(05:21):
it off, and talking over thebaseball game on TV, tells me to
let it go. But I canfeel along with this calm vibe of arrogant
carefreeness coming from him, a hintof uneasiness that I can taste on the
back of my mouth. Thirty secondsgo by, and I stupidly kneel uncomfortably
(05:45):
again on the motel carpet below thewindow sill. After loudly swallowing for luck.
Against my best judgment, I drawthe curtains a second time, but
this time my hands stop at thewidth of my head allow going into view
just enough of the outside world tobe able to grasp at what is happening
outside of my seemingly safe motel room. There he is again, only this
(06:13):
time the man is standing two thirdsof the way to where he stood the
first time I saw him. Hisfacial traits are now darkened by the lack
of a street light, but Ican feel his crazy gaze. He is
under the motel lobby parking lot arch. There is not much light where he
(06:35):
stands, but I can still perceivehim doing his throat slicing gesture. That's
right, I'll kill you, hestill communicates to me through his pantomime.
There is this desperate feeling of unfairdoom and realizing that your poor, vulnerable
self is the target of something evilthat doesn't know you as a being with
(07:00):
needs and fears, but knows andwants something from you which you are oblivious
to. I'm starting to feel queasyand frightened. I close the curtains quickly
once again and tell my dad againof the man's presence and his approaching of
the room. I get on thebed, trying to concentrate on the TV
(07:24):
to forget what I've just witnessed.I don't remember if my Dad looks through
the window to confirm what's happening.I remember him telling me to stop looking
outside if what I see is scaringme, and that we are safe in
the room, which is locked.After what seems like a few minutes passing,
(07:46):
I peek again for the last time. This time the man is right
in the parking lot, about fiftyfeet from our motel room, doing his
gesture again. I start thinking thatthe man is probably mentally ill or something,
and that I better stop looking atthe window again. A clever thing
(08:07):
to do, I tell myself.The man's behavior, although redundant and pathetic,
nonetheless strikes me as being ominous andfrightening. The night goes on with
that feeling that even if I'm probablysafe inside our room, there is this
disturbed man missing a few cogs,who's got nothing to lose outside the room,
(08:33):
that behaves as if he wants nothinggood from me. As far as
I know, he could be leaningright on the window glass a few minutes
from now. If this keeps going, would he be grinning or not?
Would he raise his arm to gentlytap on the window while kneeling under the
window sill. I try not tothink about it. I sleep uneasily that
(08:58):
night. The following morning, notwanting to go outside of the room,
I decide to stay in with mybrother while my father goes in the motel
lobby to fetch orange juice breakfast andto speak to the motel clerk about the
man outside. My father comes backafter a couple of minutes with our breakfast
(09:20):
and tells me that the clerk toldhim that the guy who frightened me the
night before is known in the areafor his mental illnesses. He's probably a
schizophrenic, as what the guy saidto my father. My dad then reassures
me that the clerk told him theman is not dangerous and that we're safe
(09:41):
staying there for another couple of nights. Luckily, I never see the man
again for the duration of our staythere. Fast forward a couple of years,
my father and I are reminiscing aboutour trip to California, and especially
about those days in Santa Barbara whenthe mentally ill man threatening me with his
(10:03):
finger outside of our motel room.Is mentioned in the conversation. My father,
as if relieved from not having tokeep this thing secret anymore, let's
out that the morning after that dreadfulnight, the motel clerk had in fact
told him to be careful with theman. He had told him that he
(10:24):
was, in fact dangerous. Mydad just didn't want to scare us telling
us the truth. I thanked himfor lying to me that morning, and
we agreed that luckily, we neversaw the man again during our stay there.
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