April 21, 2025 • 32 mins
In tonight's video I read true scary stalker and being followed horror stories. All stories claim to be true and are from the let's not meet and creepy encounter subreddits. You can also listen in podcast form "Scary Stories from Bad Vibes" Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/6WCjzGChSiOtskaZjonvqz Apple Podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/scary-stories-from-bad-vibes/id1614005565 iHeartRadio: https://www.iheart.com/podcast/53-bad-vibes-nightmares-94022380/ Deezer: https://www.deezer.com/show/3497187 Podcast Addict: https://podcastaddict.com/podcast/3868720 Podchaser: https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/bad-vibes-nightmares-4264713 JiloSaavn: https://www.jiosaavn.com/shows/Scary-Stories-from-Bad-Vibes/1/A7Unzn6te1Y_ Become a CHANNEL MEMBER for early access for as little as 99 cents a month: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7N-0n6MRuhtRVfCpj_oArQ/join Perhaps buy some MERCH: https://teespring.com/stores/bad-vibes-storytelling Follow me on Social Media: TWITTER: https://twitter.com/BadVibesYOUTUBE INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/badvibesstorytelling/ Send your TRUE story in: badvibes760@gmail.com Music by C.O.A.G: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXZsUCwRkPs
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:06):
I was either in seventh or eighth grade when this happened.
It was a hot, human summer evening in the Midwest
in one of those true crime story towns, you know,
the kind where everyone knows everyone and nothing bad is
ever supposed to happen. The sun had just started to
set when my softball game ended. My little sister had
(00:28):
already gone home with my dad, and as a field
cleared out, my coach offered me a ride. I turned
him down, not because I had a better option, just
because I was a self conscious kid who didn't like
accepting any help. Easily one of the dumbest decisions I've
ever made. I figured it wasn't a big deal. I
(00:48):
lived across town and I had my bike. Sure, it
was getting dark, but I didn't think much of it.
I packed up my gear and started pedaling home alone.
A couple blocks in, I rounded a corner and noticed
a beat up car trailing behind me. At first, it
didn't set off any alarms. It's a small town, after all,
(01:10):
but they stayed behind me for another block and then another.
They weren't speeding or honking, but they also weren't passing me.
I glanced back in the car where two college aged
guys I did not recognize, which was odd because when
your town has the population of around five hundred, strangers
(01:30):
stand out and in the nearest college forty minutes away.
Still trying to play it cool, I gave them a polite,
awkward smile. They didn't smile back. They just stared, expressionless,
cold focused. That's when my alarm bells really started ringing.
(01:52):
At the time, I was obsessed with true crime stories.
I remembered a tip. If you think someone's following you,
try circling in the block. If they steeped behind you,
they're not just going the same way. I didn't have
a phone back then, so that little trick was the
best thing I had. I tried to calm myself, you're
(02:13):
being paranoid star. They're just trying to get home too,
But my gut said otherwise. I took a left turn,
then another, then one more. They followed. Every single time
my heart beat spiked, I kept pedaling, skating in the
house is for one that looked familiar, for someone I
(02:33):
might know. The guys never tried to pass, never honked,
just followed silently steadily. When I rounded the final corner
to complete the block. I dropped the act subtle tea
wasn't gonna save me anymore. I pedaled as hard as
I could. They sped up too. That's when I saw
(02:55):
a house. I recognized someone I barely knew, but it
was my best shot. I raced to the yard, jumped
off my bike, and lifted on the grass. I looked back.
They had stopped right across from the house, still staring.
I chose the side door instead of the front, hoping
it would seem like I lived there. My hands were
(03:17):
shaking as I grabbed the screen door. I flung an
open and wedged myself behind the main door, calling out
I'm home, loud enough for them to hear. I don't
know why, but that did it. They sped off. I
didn't move until I was sure they were gone. Then
I ran to the backyard and hid behind a bush,
(03:38):
hard pounding in my chest. I must have stayed there
for fifteen minutes, though it felt like an hour before
I left my bike behind and snuck home, ducking behind
trees and parked cars whenever I heard an engine. When
I got home, I told my dad what happened. He
didn't believe me, thought I was just making up the
story to cover why I disched my bike, so I
(04:00):
never reported it. To this day, I still don't know
who they were or what they wanted. Maybe was a misunderstanding,
maybe they never tried anything like that again. But to
those two strangers who followed the kid through a dark neighborhood,
matchining her every turn with their dead eyed stairs, let's
not meet again. I'm not a pupil person. I'm an
(04:31):
introvert with a resting bitch face, and don't talk to
me Ora. That could curdle milk. So why why are
all the weirdos always drawn to me? I beg God, Goddess, Allah, Buddha,
and the flying spaghetti Monster for answers. I'm convinced there's
a giant invisible in the ensign flashing over my head
(04:53):
that says, here's your soulmate, but only for creeps, social rejects,
and potential serial killers. My friends are well meaning but
utterly clueless friends that helped track me down. I begged
them not to hand up my contact info, but the
second the nutchup smiles at me, they're like, oh, salty
(05:13):
made a friend, and hand over my phone number like
a raffle prize, my friend suck. Anyway, Back in nineteen
ninety four, I was a teenage figure skater competing in
a local event in Tulsa. I had just finished my
program and was sitting on a bench waiting for my scores,
sweaty and exhausted, when the rink guard came over and said, Salty,
(05:37):
there's a man outside who wants your autograph. What I
was an amateur, No one asked us for autographs. You're kidding, right, Nope,
he says, he's a fan. Saw you skating Houston in
Fort Worth. Two the gate, There's a man holding a
spiral notebook, maybe in his mid thirties, blonde, decently dressed,
(06:02):
not bad looking, but his eyes ice blew and locked
on me like a hawk, not blinking, no expression, just staring.
I'm Clay. I really love your Star Wars Spotlight. My
niece skated two hours ago, but I stayed just to
watch you. I saw you in Houston and Fort Worth. Okay,
(06:26):
that was weird. That program I just skated to wasn't
the Spotlight. That was a separate costume event where I
performed as Darth Vader. Yes, full helmet, cape, everything. How
did he even recognize me. Still trying to be polite,
I signed his note book to Clay. You're my first
(06:46):
ever autograph. Thanks, best wishes, Salty. He kept going on,
I'm a Star Wars super fan. You don't see it
much now that the trilogy's over. Chelsea and I were
thrilled and you skated out. Did you win? Yeah? I did?
How did Chelsea do? I looked it round, but no
(07:08):
kids seemed to be with him. She got bronze. Chelsea
is my niece. She went home with my sister. Did
you win both times? We thought you were so brave
to skate in a Vader mask? Okay, the both times
thing was unsettling. Yes, I did, and I hope Chelsea
had a great skate. We didn't like the girl who
(07:31):
skated to the beach boys. She wore a bikini. He
was still staring, not blinking, just judging. Oh, Jill, I
thought she was brave. Honestly, the swimsuit made me cold
just looking at her. I was trying to steer the
convo somewhere neutral. But no, she shouldn't have worn that
(07:52):
in front of the little kids. Right time. To wrap
this up, Well, I'm glad you liked my number. Thanks again,
enjoy the rest of the competition. Have a safe trip home.
I'll be back tonight to cheer you on. That's really kind.
My results should be up now, got a check. Excuse me,
(08:14):
I'll wait to see how you did. Show me your metal.
I sped walk to the results board. Silver metal. Not bad.
As I'm catching my breath, my friend Nathan, another skater
from Dallas, comes over. Deffan said, someone ask you for
your autograph. Look at you turning into a star. I laughed,
(08:36):
more like a local nutcase. Says he's a super fan
of my Vader program. He's coming back tonight too. Then
it happened, Salty, Salty. Everyone turned back to look. Clay
came down to the far end of the rink, waving
his arms over the rail. I held my medal awkwardly,
(08:56):
trying to play it cool. Yay, Salty, shouted. I was
dining inside. Later that evening, Clay left a message for
me at the registration desk with its phone number. He
called the competition hotel, left voicemails inviting me to dinner
with him, his niece and her parents. I ignored everything, thankfully.
(09:20):
The hotel never gave him my room. Number. But three
days after I got home, he sent a package to
my skating rink. Inside were two eight x ten photos.
One was a blown up image of me in the
Vader costume mid performance. The other a photoshop metal stand
from the US National Championships where he had cut off
(09:42):
Nancy Kerrigan's head and replaced it with mine, scrolled Salty
nineteen ninety four Olympic Gold Medalist across the top and
drew a giant heart around my face. That's when I
started getting scared. I dealt with a real stock or
back in high school, someone who made my life hell
(10:03):
for years. But calling the cops now. Clay hadn't done
anything illegal yet Anyways. Fourth of July weekend rolled around
and my skating rink hosted its annual competition. Clay showed
up again, waited by the registration desk, then pounced. This time,
(10:23):
my husband was with me. Clay went off screaming about
our connection, calling me vulgar names, accusing me of using him,
lying about being married, cheating on my husband with him.
My sweet, gentle husband almost decked this guy when he
grabbed my hand and pointed out I wasn't wearing a
wedding ring, I don't wear them when I skate. Security
(10:46):
finally stepped in. They tossed him out and warned him
not to come back, said that they'll call the cops
if he did. Then came the final letter. He sent
a nasty note to the rank accusing me of enticing him,
leading him on, and planning to use him. I'm just done.
(11:07):
Oh and the second weirdo, not dangerous, just delusional, got
to crush on me literally a week after my husband died.
Apparently that's the perfect time to shoot your shot. But
that's another story for another day. Anyway, Clay, that's not
me ever again. Have you ever looked into the eyes
(11:35):
of someone truly insane? I'm not talking about someone who's
a little offbeat or quirky. I mean someone whose mind
has fractured so deeply it shows in their eyes, cold,
hollow and terrifying. I have, and I'll never forget it.
Let me back up. I'm gonna keep this vague for
obvious reasons, but some background is necessary. I worked for
(11:59):
a large corporation, and while I report to multiple supervisors,
I formed a general friendship with one of them. Let's
call him Jeff. Jeff is the definition of laid back, funny,
easy going, single no kids. He'd often swing by my
desk to chat, and over time we became good friends.
(12:21):
About a year ago, he stopped by my desk one morning,
and I immediately knew something was wrong. His usual energy
was gone. He looked tense, distracted. I asked him what
was going on, and he told me he needed to
talk to me about something serious. He began explaining that
several years before I started working there, a woman, let's
(12:43):
call her Lauren, had been briefly employed by the company.
She wasn't in our department, but occasionally interacted with leadership,
including Jeff. Their conversations had always been brief and professional.
She left the company less than a year year later,
announcing she was getting married and moving away. That was
(13:04):
the last he heard of her until weeks before this conversation.
Out of nowhere, he received this request from Lauren on Facebook.
Not thinking much of it, he accepted he was connected
with many past colleagues. They messaged back and forth a bit.
She told him that she was divorced, planning to move
back to town, and asked if he'd joined her for
(13:26):
dinner during a visit. Jeff politely declined. That's when things
took a turn. He stopped responding after turning her down,
and soon after she flooded his inbox with erratic, insulting messages,
calling him a wimpy bitch, claiming he ruined his only
shot at happiness, et cetera. He showed me some of them.
(13:48):
They were intense and unhinged. Thinking she was just drunk
and emotional, he blocked her and moved on, or so
he thought. Then came the email, first to his personal account,
then to his work one please for a second chance.
Emotional breakdowns left confessions. I'd later help him print these
(14:11):
out and organize them as evidence. The reason he was
telling me this particular day was because he had just
received a message from Beth, Lauren's sister. She told him
that Lauren had become mentally unstable after her divorce and
it had fixated on a man, Jeff, claiming he was
her soulmate. Beth tried reasoning with her, but Lauren was obsessed,
(14:36):
and now she was back in town, she had flown in,
booked a hotel near her company, and was planning to
visit Jeff at work. And then it happened. Jeff walked
into the office one morning and found Lauren waiting outside
his door. She ran up and hugged him, clearly drunk,
you could smell the alcohol. She told him that she
(14:57):
was there to get her old job back and needed
to s him. She handed him gifts, snacks, gift cards,
and pictures of herself. He declined, but she pushed them
into his hands, insisting he kept them. He managed to
excuse himself and went straight to Hr to explain everything.
(15:18):
He made it crystal clear that he did not want
her hire it again. He also gave me a copy
of the pictures she left, asking to alert security if
I saw her again. It didn't end there. Beth later
sent Jeff a disturbing photo Lauren had sent her dressed
as a man, claiming it was her disguise so she
could watch Jeff without him knowing. And for the next
(15:41):
year things spiraled. Lauren returned to our town multiple times,
leaving letters on Jeff's car, often nonsensical. Once she left
two identical letters, one handwritten and cursive, one printed word
for word. She created new emails every time Jeff blocked one,
(16:02):
sat rambling love confessions, claimed that she made him her beneficiary.
Out of her life insurance, sent emails pretending to be
other men in love with her, begging Jeff to release
her so she could love them instead. Eventually, she somehow
got his personal phone number and began calling and texting constantly.
(16:24):
Each time we blocked her, she found a new way.
It finally led to court. Jeff was granted a protective order,
and for a while the chaos stopped. He started acting
like himself again. We all hoped it was over until
this week. Monday morning, Jeff stormed over to my desk,
(16:45):
furious and shaken. He demanded to know who placed a
stack of letters and homemade Valentine's cards on his desk.
I had no idea what he was talking about. We
found out later that Laurna shoved them under his office door.
The housekeeper had found them scattered all over the floor, and,
unaware of the situation, neatly arranged them on his desk.
(17:07):
Even worse, we had no idea how she had gotten
inside the building. Later that day, Jeff called me, his
voice full of panic, sh she's here. He had opened
his office door to find her standing there, grinning. He
slammed the door, locked it and called the police. Then
called me to warn me that she was on the premises.
(17:31):
I foolishly thought that she would have fled once he
mentioned the cops. I was headed down the hall to
check on him. I stopped in my tracks. There she
was sitting cross legged on the floor outside Jeff's office,
quietly humming to herself. She slowly turned ahead and looked
at me. Her eyes were empty, no light, no humanity,
(17:54):
just whole darkness. Her lips curled into a slow, eerie smile,
and then she turned back to Jeff's door, continuing to hum.
I ran full and sprinted back to my desk. The
police arrived shortly after. She didn't resist. She stood calmly,
still humming, and walked away with them as if nothing
(18:16):
was wrong. She's currently in jail for violating the protective order.
Jeff and I are both still shaking to our core.
I'll never forget the way she looked at me, that slow,
unnatural smile and those lifeless eyes. It felt like she
was staring into the abyss, the kind you don't come
(18:38):
back from. It was New Year's Eve, twenty twenty. I
just finished a shift at a sports bar restaurant I
worked at Downtown. I'm a female and at the time
I was twenty six, I had been served there for
(19:00):
about two and a half years. After clocking out, I
headed to a nearby bar where a lot of other
service industry folks in the area liked to hang out
after work. While I was having a drink, I noticed
a familiar face, a man who was a regular at
my workplace. I'd see him multiple times a week for
(19:21):
as long as I could remember, but he always sat
at the bar, so I never served or spoke to him.
He was middle aged, always quiet, well dressed in business clothes,
just one of those regulars who kept to himself. After
I passed him, I greeted him casually, Oh, hey, I
see you at my workplace all the time. Totally innocent,
(19:43):
just a passing hello, not meant to start a whole conversation.
But things got uncomfortable real fast. He looked at me
and said, I've been watching you for the past three years.
He went on to explain how he would sit at
the bar and watch me while I worked. He told
me he worked in the office across the street, and
(20:04):
that he even watched me from his window as I
walked in from my lunch shifts. Honestly, can't remember everything
he said. It started to blur, but he kept emphasizing
how long he had been watching me and how he'd
waited so long to talk to me. For the record,
I only worked there for two and a half years,
so not three, but sure, buddy. Then it got even weirder.
(20:30):
He told me that he was plenty to propose to
me on his fifty third birthday. Yeah you heard that right.
A man more than twice my age, who had never
spoken to me before, apparently had plans to ask me
to marry him. I remember. He also asked me where
I lived. I gave a vague answer, not wanting to
(20:50):
share any specifics. At some point I mentioned that I
might not be working there much longer, and his response
generally chilled me. Well, don't go anywhere I can't find you.
The next time I worked, I told my manager what happened.
She went to talk to the bar manager, asking about
the guy. The bar manager's response, Oh, he's harmless. The
(21:14):
dismissal honestly pissed me off. It's like some regulars can
say anything they want to staff and the management will
still brush it off like it's no big deal. He's harmless,
As if that made the whole thing less creepy or threatening. Thankfully,
twenty twenty being the way it was, the city shut
down all the restaurants for a couple of months, so
(21:35):
I didn't have to keep working there much longer. I
haven't seen the guy since, and I really hope I
never do. I know the story might not be as
terrifying as some others on the sub and honestly, I've
had plenty of creepy things said to me. We'll work
it in the service industry, but this moment was a
wake up call for me. Just because someone seems quiet
(21:55):
and polite doesn't mean they're not watching. To preface this,
I'm currently nineteen, turning twenty soon. When I was in
third grade, I had a vidictive teacher who manipulated my
grades just to make me repeat the year, all because
(22:18):
I called another student a brat for crying about wanting
to be in her mom's class The context isn't that important,
but basically, the girl thought she could cry away into
her mom's classroom. Her mom was a high school teacher,
and the kid would throw tantrums until she got her way.
I snapped and told her that she was too old
(22:38):
to be crying for her mom and disrupting class. Harsh maybe,
but she was clearly spoiled, and I guess the teacher
didn't like that I pointed it out anyway. Fast forward
to August twenty twenty three. I was in my junior
year at trade school, studying graphic design. That's when I
met James, a sophomore. He noticed that I didn't get dropped
(23:02):
off at our homeschool like most students, and offered to
drive me home. I barely knew this guy. We talked
a few times, but we weren't close. I told him
that my mom wouldn't be okay with me writing in
some random guy's car unless she met him first. Plus,
since I was eighteen, if he got into accident, I'd
be legally responsible as an adult in the vehicle. After that,
(23:26):
he backed off for a while. We still talked, and
I started picking up on the fact that he probably
wasn't neurotypical. It wasn't until my senior year that things
got generally creepy. We exchanged numbers because I helped him
with homework sometimes and gave him Horror YouTube channel of
recommendations think read his stories. Creepy Pasta or creators like
(23:50):
Canada The Horrible or Nexpo. Within a month, he somehow
found out where I lived, even though I never once
told him. He got off way earlier than me, and
our home school was arranged by region. Students from the
west side of Fontaine went to one school while those
from the east went to another, so he shouldn't have
(24:13):
even had a clue. That's when I started documenting everything.
If I'd fall asleep on the bus, he tapped my headphone,
snapped him against my ears, kicked my leg, shake me,
or call my phone just to get my attention. It
became relentless. In April, he asked me to prom I
(24:35):
told him multiple times I wasn't interested, but he kept
trying to manipulate me. I finally lied and said I
had a family event that night. Later, I reported his
behavior to the principal because he wasn't just bothering me,
he was pressuring and shaming other students into going with
him too. He gave the most insincere apology, clearly only
(24:58):
doing it because he was told to the Next day,
I got a call from him asking if my sister
drove a red car and worked at the coffeehouse. I
told him no and immediately blocked his number. After that,
things escalated even more. He would call me and ask
me if I was home, at work or at the
(25:18):
Dollar General. He told me disturbing things like violent fantasies
about hurting his mom's boyfriend, smashing his teeth in, or
wanting him dead. He smacked his own phone against the
bus window and rage. He tried to manipulate me into
call on him. During a panic attack, he went on
a rant about my math teacher, saying she should be
(25:41):
gutted and that that women are ugly and horrible vessels
for producing babies. The worst moment, he lost his ear pods,
started foaming out the mouth, and stomped on the charging
case in rage in front of everyone. I went to
the principal and the school liaison again, but I couldn't
even speak without breaking down. They yelled at me for
(26:04):
over an hour, accusing me of being mean to a
kid on the spectrum. They even justified his behavior by saying,
my information, my mother's and my sisters is public. Anyway,
I had a full blown panic attack. I was throwing
up in the trash can in the conference room while
calling my mom. She was absolutely livid. She told me
(26:27):
to contact the sheriff's office as soon as I got home.
When I did, they took it seriously. The sheriff went
to James's house and told him to back off, otherwise
I'd be well within my rights to press charges for
stalking and harassment. A local woman's shelter later confirmed that
the way the school handled this was not just wrong,
(26:48):
it was dangerous. Thankfully, I haven't seen him since. His
number is still blocked, and I'm praying it stays that way.
And James, if by some miracle you're reading this, stay
the fuck away from me and my sister. I hope
your future commanding officer learns everything you did. Yeah, that's right.
(27:08):
This guy wants to be in the military. If I
ever see him again, I will press charges. I don't
care if it ruins his life. He's a danger to
everyone around him and possibly to himself. This happened just
(27:28):
five days ago on a Saturday, and I still can't
stop thinking about it. For context, I'm a sixteen year
old French boy living in a small town near Paris.
I was hanging out that evening with my seventeen year
old friend, A girl, like we usually do, just sitting
on the big rocks behind our town's kindergarten, eating snacks
(27:50):
and talking. It was around eight pm, the sky was
starting to darken and we were facing a big beet
field that stretched along the edge to the town. Now,
nothing really happens in our town. It's quiet and kind
of isolated. The only big thing that ever made the
news was when the father stabbed his wife and daughter
(28:10):
forty times. Not connected to my story, but it gives
you the idea that shocking things are rare and deeply
unsettling when they do happen. Also, there aren't many foreigners
around here. It's a small, close knit place, so we
were just sitting there talking, eating and chilling when I
spot someone coming towards us. A man. He's wearing a beanie,
(28:34):
hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, walking directly at us.
He was way too close for us to get up
and leave without making it obvious. He comes right up
to us and starts speaking in English. My friend doesn't
speak English, so she had no idea what he was saying,
but I do. He notices that and immediately tries to
(28:54):
shake my hand. I refused. He didn't seem drunk or
on drugs, just off. Then things got weird. He points
behind me towards the field and insists, is that cabbage? Now?
To look where he's pointing, I would have had to
turn my back to him, but I could already see
part of the field to my left without turning around,
(29:17):
So I told him, yes, it's cabbage. It wasn't, but
I just wanted him to go away. He didn't accept
that answer and kept insisting, repeating the same question, trying
to get me to turn around. The whole time he
was standing less than a meter away from me. It
was incredibly tense. He could have done anything in that moment.
(29:40):
He said strange things like my driver told me there
was cabbage. I asked people but didn't understand. Then he
patted my shoulder, and that's when I really started to
get nervous. He walked behind me and crouched on the
edge of the field, again telling me to come look
and check if it was cabbage. I already told her
(30:00):
multiple times that it was Again, it wasn't, but I
was just trying to shut it down. As soon as
I felt like we had some space, I turned to
my friend and said quietly grab your bag. Run. At first,
she thought I was joking, but when she saw me
take off, she followed. We ran about twenty meters away.
(30:20):
Before I glanced back, he was walking in our direction slowly,
but then vanished behind one of the kindergarten buildings. We
were shaken. We say goodbye and quickly split up, each
heading home in different directions. I had to pass the
elementary school next to the kindergarten to get home, and
that's when I saw him again. He was back, coming
(30:44):
down a small road between the field and the kindergarten school.
Phone in hand, screamed it up. It was like he
was tracking something. I didn't take my chances. I turned
and ran straight to my friend's house. Her dad ended
up driving me home that night. We talked about what
happened and realized it could have been something much darker,
(31:05):
maybe attempted kidnapping, maybe something to do with trafficking the
fact that he didn't speak a single word of French
was weird on his own, but his whole act seemed
like a setup. That cabbage thing felt like a trick,
just a way to isolate one of us or make
us move out of position. Later, I told my friend
(31:26):
who lives in our town what had happened, and he
said he's seen the same guy earlier that day, wandering
around and acting strangely. We're both okay now, but the
whole experience really rattled us. Sometimes I wonder if we
were overthinking it, but my goat told me something was
very wrong, and I have learned to trust that instinct.
(31:46):
To the man who tried to trap us with a
weird cabbage excuse, let's not meet again.
I was either in seventh or eighth grade when this happened.
It was a hot, human summer evening in the Midwest
in one of those true crime story towns, you know,
the kind where everyone knows everyone and nothing bad is
ever supposed to happen. The sun had just started to
set when my softball game ended. My little sister had
(00:28):
already gone home with my dad, and as a field
cleared out, my coach offered me a ride. I turned
him down, not because I had a better option, just
because I was a self conscious kid who didn't like
accepting any help. Easily one of the dumbest decisions I've
ever made. I figured it wasn't a big deal. I
(00:48):
lived across town and I had my bike. Sure, it
was getting dark, but I didn't think much of it.
I packed up my gear and started pedaling home alone.
A couple blocks in, I rounded a corner and noticed
a beat up car trailing behind me. At first, it
didn't set off any alarms. It's a small town, after all,
(01:10):
but they stayed behind me for another block and then another.
They weren't speeding or honking, but they also weren't passing me.
I glanced back in the car where two college aged
guys I did not recognize, which was odd because when
your town has the population of around five hundred, strangers
(01:30):
stand out and in the nearest college forty minutes away.
Still trying to play it cool, I gave them a polite,
awkward smile. They didn't smile back. They just stared, expressionless,
cold focused. That's when my alarm bells really started ringing.
(01:52):
At the time, I was obsessed with true crime stories.
I remembered a tip. If you think someone's following you,
try circling in the block. If they steeped behind you,
they're not just going the same way. I didn't have
a phone back then, so that little trick was the
best thing I had. I tried to calm myself, you're
(02:13):
being paranoid star. They're just trying to get home too,
But my gut said otherwise. I took a left turn,
then another, then one more. They followed. Every single time
my heart beat spiked, I kept pedaling, skating in the
house is for one that looked familiar, for someone I
(02:33):
might know. The guys never tried to pass, never honked,
just followed silently steadily. When I rounded the final corner
to complete the block. I dropped the act subtle tea
wasn't gonna save me anymore. I pedaled as hard as
I could. They sped up too. That's when I saw
(02:55):
a house. I recognized someone I barely knew, but it
was my best shot. I raced to the yard, jumped
off my bike, and lifted on the grass. I looked back.
They had stopped right across from the house, still staring.
I chose the side door instead of the front, hoping
it would seem like I lived there. My hands were
(03:17):
shaking as I grabbed the screen door. I flung an
open and wedged myself behind the main door, calling out
I'm home, loud enough for them to hear. I don't
know why, but that did it. They sped off. I
didn't move until I was sure they were gone. Then
I ran to the backyard and hid behind a bush,
(03:38):
hard pounding in my chest. I must have stayed there
for fifteen minutes, though it felt like an hour before
I left my bike behind and snuck home, ducking behind
trees and parked cars whenever I heard an engine. When
I got home, I told my dad what happened. He
didn't believe me, thought I was just making up the
story to cover why I disched my bike, so I
(04:00):
never reported it. To this day, I still don't know
who they were or what they wanted. Maybe was a misunderstanding,
maybe they never tried anything like that again. But to
those two strangers who followed the kid through a dark neighborhood,
matchining her every turn with their dead eyed stairs, let's
not meet again. I'm not a pupil person. I'm an
(04:31):
introvert with a resting bitch face, and don't talk to
me Ora. That could curdle milk. So why why are
all the weirdos always drawn to me? I beg God, Goddess, Allah, Buddha,
and the flying spaghetti Monster for answers. I'm convinced there's
a giant invisible in the ensign flashing over my head
(04:53):
that says, here's your soulmate, but only for creeps, social rejects,
and potential serial killers. My friends are well meaning but
utterly clueless friends that helped track me down. I begged
them not to hand up my contact info, but the
second the nutchup smiles at me, they're like, oh, salty
(05:13):
made a friend, and hand over my phone number like
a raffle prize, my friend suck. Anyway, Back in nineteen
ninety four, I was a teenage figure skater competing in
a local event in Tulsa. I had just finished my
program and was sitting on a bench waiting for my scores,
sweaty and exhausted, when the rink guard came over and said, Salty,
(05:37):
there's a man outside who wants your autograph. What I
was an amateur, No one asked us for autographs. You're kidding, right, Nope,
he says, he's a fan. Saw you skating Houston in
Fort Worth. Two the gate, There's a man holding a
spiral notebook, maybe in his mid thirties, blonde, decently dressed,
(06:02):
not bad looking, but his eyes ice blew and locked
on me like a hawk, not blinking, no expression, just staring.
I'm Clay. I really love your Star Wars Spotlight. My
niece skated two hours ago, but I stayed just to
watch you. I saw you in Houston and Fort Worth. Okay,
(06:26):
that was weird. That program I just skated to wasn't
the Spotlight. That was a separate costume event where I
performed as Darth Vader. Yes, full helmet, cape, everything. How
did he even recognize me. Still trying to be polite,
I signed his note book to Clay. You're my first
(06:46):
ever autograph. Thanks, best wishes, Salty. He kept going on,
I'm a Star Wars super fan. You don't see it
much now that the trilogy's over. Chelsea and I were
thrilled and you skated out. Did you win? Yeah? I did?
How did Chelsea do? I looked it round, but no
(07:08):
kids seemed to be with him. She got bronze. Chelsea
is my niece. She went home with my sister. Did
you win both times? We thought you were so brave
to skate in a Vader mask? Okay, the both times
thing was unsettling. Yes, I did, and I hope Chelsea
had a great skate. We didn't like the girl who
(07:31):
skated to the beach boys. She wore a bikini. He
was still staring, not blinking, just judging. Oh, Jill, I
thought she was brave. Honestly, the swimsuit made me cold
just looking at her. I was trying to steer the
convo somewhere neutral. But no, she shouldn't have worn that
(07:52):
in front of the little kids. Right time. To wrap
this up, Well, I'm glad you liked my number. Thanks again,
enjoy the rest of the competition. Have a safe trip home.
I'll be back tonight to cheer you on. That's really kind.
My results should be up now, got a check. Excuse me,
(08:14):
I'll wait to see how you did. Show me your metal.
I sped walk to the results board. Silver metal. Not bad.
As I'm catching my breath, my friend Nathan, another skater
from Dallas, comes over. Deffan said, someone ask you for
your autograph. Look at you turning into a star. I laughed,
(08:36):
more like a local nutcase. Says he's a super fan
of my Vader program. He's coming back tonight too. Then
it happened, Salty, Salty. Everyone turned back to look. Clay
came down to the far end of the rink, waving
his arms over the rail. I held my medal awkwardly,
(08:56):
trying to play it cool. Yay, Salty, shouted. I was
dining inside. Later that evening, Clay left a message for
me at the registration desk with its phone number. He
called the competition hotel, left voicemails inviting me to dinner
with him, his niece and her parents. I ignored everything, thankfully.
(09:20):
The hotel never gave him my room. Number. But three
days after I got home, he sent a package to
my skating rink. Inside were two eight x ten photos.
One was a blown up image of me in the
Vader costume mid performance. The other a photoshop metal stand
from the US National Championships where he had cut off
(09:42):
Nancy Kerrigan's head and replaced it with mine, scrolled Salty
nineteen ninety four Olympic Gold Medalist across the top and
drew a giant heart around my face. That's when I
started getting scared. I dealt with a real stock or
back in high school, someone who made my life hell
(10:03):
for years. But calling the cops now. Clay hadn't done
anything illegal yet Anyways. Fourth of July weekend rolled around
and my skating rink hosted its annual competition. Clay showed
up again, waited by the registration desk, then pounced. This time,
(10:23):
my husband was with me. Clay went off screaming about
our connection, calling me vulgar names, accusing me of using him,
lying about being married, cheating on my husband with him.
My sweet, gentle husband almost decked this guy when he
grabbed my hand and pointed out I wasn't wearing a
wedding ring, I don't wear them when I skate. Security
(10:46):
finally stepped in. They tossed him out and warned him
not to come back, said that they'll call the cops
if he did. Then came the final letter. He sent
a nasty note to the rank accusing me of enticing him,
leading him on, and planning to use him. I'm just done.
(11:07):
Oh and the second weirdo, not dangerous, just delusional, got
to crush on me literally a week after my husband died.
Apparently that's the perfect time to shoot your shot. But
that's another story for another day. Anyway, Clay, that's not
me ever again. Have you ever looked into the eyes
(11:35):
of someone truly insane? I'm not talking about someone who's
a little offbeat or quirky. I mean someone whose mind
has fractured so deeply it shows in their eyes, cold,
hollow and terrifying. I have, and I'll never forget it.
Let me back up. I'm gonna keep this vague for
obvious reasons, but some background is necessary. I worked for
(11:59):
a large corporation, and while I report to multiple supervisors,
I formed a general friendship with one of them. Let's
call him Jeff. Jeff is the definition of laid back, funny,
easy going, single no kids. He'd often swing by my
desk to chat, and over time we became good friends.
(12:21):
About a year ago, he stopped by my desk one morning,
and I immediately knew something was wrong. His usual energy
was gone. He looked tense, distracted. I asked him what
was going on, and he told me he needed to
talk to me about something serious. He began explaining that
several years before I started working there, a woman, let's
(12:43):
call her Lauren, had been briefly employed by the company.
She wasn't in our department, but occasionally interacted with leadership,
including Jeff. Their conversations had always been brief and professional.
She left the company less than a year year later,
announcing she was getting married and moving away. That was
(13:04):
the last he heard of her until weeks before this conversation.
Out of nowhere, he received this request from Lauren on Facebook.
Not thinking much of it, he accepted he was connected
with many past colleagues. They messaged back and forth a bit.
She told him that she was divorced, planning to move
back to town, and asked if he'd joined her for
(13:26):
dinner during a visit. Jeff politely declined. That's when things
took a turn. He stopped responding after turning her down,
and soon after she flooded his inbox with erratic, insulting messages,
calling him a wimpy bitch, claiming he ruined his only
shot at happiness, et cetera. He showed me some of them.
(13:48):
They were intense and unhinged. Thinking she was just drunk
and emotional, he blocked her and moved on, or so
he thought. Then came the email, first to his personal account,
then to his work one please for a second chance.
Emotional breakdowns left confessions. I'd later help him print these
(14:11):
out and organize them as evidence. The reason he was
telling me this particular day was because he had just
received a message from Beth, Lauren's sister. She told him
that Lauren had become mentally unstable after her divorce and
it had fixated on a man, Jeff, claiming he was
her soulmate. Beth tried reasoning with her, but Lauren was obsessed,
(14:36):
and now she was back in town, she had flown in,
booked a hotel near her company, and was planning to
visit Jeff at work. And then it happened. Jeff walked
into the office one morning and found Lauren waiting outside
his door. She ran up and hugged him, clearly drunk,
you could smell the alcohol. She told him that she
(14:57):
was there to get her old job back and needed
to s him. She handed him gifts, snacks, gift cards,
and pictures of herself. He declined, but she pushed them
into his hands, insisting he kept them. He managed to
excuse himself and went straight to Hr to explain everything.
(15:18):
He made it crystal clear that he did not want
her hire it again. He also gave me a copy
of the pictures she left, asking to alert security if
I saw her again. It didn't end there. Beth later
sent Jeff a disturbing photo Lauren had sent her dressed
as a man, claiming it was her disguise so she
could watch Jeff without him knowing. And for the next
(15:41):
year things spiraled. Lauren returned to our town multiple times,
leaving letters on Jeff's car, often nonsensical. Once she left
two identical letters, one handwritten and cursive, one printed word
for word. She created new emails every time Jeff blocked one,
(16:02):
sat rambling love confessions, claimed that she made him her beneficiary.
Out of her life insurance, sent emails pretending to be
other men in love with her, begging Jeff to release
her so she could love them instead. Eventually, she somehow
got his personal phone number and began calling and texting constantly.
(16:24):
Each time we blocked her, she found a new way.
It finally led to court. Jeff was granted a protective order,
and for a while the chaos stopped. He started acting
like himself again. We all hoped it was over until
this week. Monday morning, Jeff stormed over to my desk,
(16:45):
furious and shaken. He demanded to know who placed a
stack of letters and homemade Valentine's cards on his desk.
I had no idea what he was talking about. We
found out later that Laurna shoved them under his office door.
The housekeeper had found them scattered all over the floor, and,
unaware of the situation, neatly arranged them on his desk.
(17:07):
Even worse, we had no idea how she had gotten
inside the building. Later that day, Jeff called me, his
voice full of panic, sh she's here. He had opened
his office door to find her standing there, grinning. He
slammed the door, locked it and called the police. Then
called me to warn me that she was on the premises.
(17:31):
I foolishly thought that she would have fled once he
mentioned the cops. I was headed down the hall to
check on him. I stopped in my tracks. There she
was sitting cross legged on the floor outside Jeff's office,
quietly humming to herself. She slowly turned ahead and looked
at me. Her eyes were empty, no light, no humanity,
(17:54):
just whole darkness. Her lips curled into a slow, eerie smile,
and then she turned back to Jeff's door, continuing to hum.
I ran full and sprinted back to my desk. The
police arrived shortly after. She didn't resist. She stood calmly,
still humming, and walked away with them as if nothing
(18:16):
was wrong. She's currently in jail for violating the protective order.
Jeff and I are both still shaking to our core.
I'll never forget the way she looked at me, that slow,
unnatural smile and those lifeless eyes. It felt like she
was staring into the abyss, the kind you don't come
(18:38):
back from. It was New Year's Eve, twenty twenty. I
just finished a shift at a sports bar restaurant I
worked at Downtown. I'm a female and at the time
I was twenty six, I had been served there for
(19:00):
about two and a half years. After clocking out, I
headed to a nearby bar where a lot of other
service industry folks in the area liked to hang out
after work. While I was having a drink, I noticed
a familiar face, a man who was a regular at
my workplace. I'd see him multiple times a week for
(19:21):
as long as I could remember, but he always sat
at the bar, so I never served or spoke to him.
He was middle aged, always quiet, well dressed in business clothes,
just one of those regulars who kept to himself. After
I passed him, I greeted him casually, Oh, hey, I
see you at my workplace all the time. Totally innocent,
(19:43):
just a passing hello, not meant to start a whole conversation.
But things got uncomfortable real fast. He looked at me
and said, I've been watching you for the past three years.
He went on to explain how he would sit at
the bar and watch me while I worked. He told
me he worked in the office across the street, and
(20:04):
that he even watched me from his window as I
walked in from my lunch shifts. Honestly, can't remember everything
he said. It started to blur, but he kept emphasizing
how long he had been watching me and how he'd
waited so long to talk to me. For the record,
I only worked there for two and a half years,
so not three, but sure, buddy. Then it got even weirder.
(20:30):
He told me that he was plenty to propose to
me on his fifty third birthday. Yeah you heard that right.
A man more than twice my age, who had never
spoken to me before, apparently had plans to ask me
to marry him. I remember. He also asked me where
I lived. I gave a vague answer, not wanting to
(20:50):
share any specifics. At some point I mentioned that I
might not be working there much longer, and his response
generally chilled me. Well, don't go anywhere I can't find you.
The next time I worked, I told my manager what happened.
She went to talk to the bar manager, asking about
the guy. The bar manager's response, Oh, he's harmless. The
(21:14):
dismissal honestly pissed me off. It's like some regulars can
say anything they want to staff and the management will
still brush it off like it's no big deal. He's harmless,
As if that made the whole thing less creepy or threatening. Thankfully,
twenty twenty being the way it was, the city shut
down all the restaurants for a couple of months, so
(21:35):
I didn't have to keep working there much longer. I
haven't seen the guy since, and I really hope I
never do. I know the story might not be as
terrifying as some others on the sub and honestly, I've
had plenty of creepy things said to me. We'll work
it in the service industry, but this moment was a
wake up call for me. Just because someone seems quiet
(21:55):
and polite doesn't mean they're not watching. To preface this,
I'm currently nineteen, turning twenty soon. When I was in
third grade, I had a vidictive teacher who manipulated my
grades just to make me repeat the year, all because
(22:18):
I called another student a brat for crying about wanting
to be in her mom's class The context isn't that important,
but basically, the girl thought she could cry away into
her mom's classroom. Her mom was a high school teacher,
and the kid would throw tantrums until she got her way.
I snapped and told her that she was too old
(22:38):
to be crying for her mom and disrupting class. Harsh maybe,
but she was clearly spoiled, and I guess the teacher
didn't like that I pointed it out anyway. Fast forward
to August twenty twenty three. I was in my junior
year at trade school, studying graphic design. That's when I
met James, a sophomore. He noticed that I didn't get dropped
(23:02):
off at our homeschool like most students, and offered to
drive me home. I barely knew this guy. We talked
a few times, but we weren't close. I told him
that my mom wouldn't be okay with me writing in
some random guy's car unless she met him first. Plus,
since I was eighteen, if he got into accident, I'd
be legally responsible as an adult in the vehicle. After that,
(23:26):
he backed off for a while. We still talked, and
I started picking up on the fact that he probably
wasn't neurotypical. It wasn't until my senior year that things
got generally creepy. We exchanged numbers because I helped him
with homework sometimes and gave him Horror YouTube channel of
recommendations think read his stories. Creepy Pasta or creators like
(23:50):
Canada The Horrible or Nexpo. Within a month, he somehow
found out where I lived, even though I never once
told him. He got off way earlier than me, and
our home school was arranged by region. Students from the
west side of Fontaine went to one school while those
from the east went to another, so he shouldn't have
(24:13):
even had a clue. That's when I started documenting everything.
If I'd fall asleep on the bus, he tapped my headphone,
snapped him against my ears, kicked my leg, shake me,
or call my phone just to get my attention. It
became relentless. In April, he asked me to prom I
(24:35):
told him multiple times I wasn't interested, but he kept
trying to manipulate me. I finally lied and said I
had a family event that night. Later, I reported his
behavior to the principal because he wasn't just bothering me,
he was pressuring and shaming other students into going with
him too. He gave the most insincere apology, clearly only
(24:58):
doing it because he was told to the Next day,
I got a call from him asking if my sister
drove a red car and worked at the coffeehouse. I
told him no and immediately blocked his number. After that,
things escalated even more. He would call me and ask
me if I was home, at work or at the
(25:18):
Dollar General. He told me disturbing things like violent fantasies
about hurting his mom's boyfriend, smashing his teeth in, or
wanting him dead. He smacked his own phone against the
bus window and rage. He tried to manipulate me into
call on him. During a panic attack, he went on
a rant about my math teacher, saying she should be
(25:41):
gutted and that that women are ugly and horrible vessels
for producing babies. The worst moment, he lost his ear pods,
started foaming out the mouth, and stomped on the charging
case in rage in front of everyone. I went to
the principal and the school liaison again, but I couldn't
even speak without breaking down. They yelled at me for
(26:04):
over an hour, accusing me of being mean to a
kid on the spectrum. They even justified his behavior by saying,
my information, my mother's and my sisters is public. Anyway,
I had a full blown panic attack. I was throwing
up in the trash can in the conference room while
calling my mom. She was absolutely livid. She told me
(26:27):
to contact the sheriff's office as soon as I got home.
When I did, they took it seriously. The sheriff went
to James's house and told him to back off, otherwise
I'd be well within my rights to press charges for
stalking and harassment. A local woman's shelter later confirmed that
the way the school handled this was not just wrong,
(26:48):
it was dangerous. Thankfully, I haven't seen him since. His
number is still blocked, and I'm praying it stays that way.
And James, if by some miracle you're reading this, stay
the fuck away from me and my sister. I hope
your future commanding officer learns everything you did. Yeah, that's right.
(27:08):
This guy wants to be in the military. If I
ever see him again, I will press charges. I don't
care if it ruins his life. He's a danger to
everyone around him and possibly to himself. This happened just
(27:28):
five days ago on a Saturday, and I still can't
stop thinking about it. For context, I'm a sixteen year
old French boy living in a small town near Paris.
I was hanging out that evening with my seventeen year
old friend, A girl, like we usually do, just sitting
on the big rocks behind our town's kindergarten, eating snacks
(27:50):
and talking. It was around eight pm, the sky was
starting to darken and we were facing a big beet
field that stretched along the edge to the town. Now,
nothing really happens in our town. It's quiet and kind
of isolated. The only big thing that ever made the
news was when the father stabbed his wife and daughter
(28:10):
forty times. Not connected to my story, but it gives
you the idea that shocking things are rare and deeply
unsettling when they do happen. Also, there aren't many foreigners
around here. It's a small, close knit place, so we
were just sitting there talking, eating and chilling when I
spot someone coming towards us. A man. He's wearing a beanie,
(28:34):
hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, walking directly at us.
He was way too close for us to get up
and leave without making it obvious. He comes right up
to us and starts speaking in English. My friend doesn't
speak English, so she had no idea what he was saying,
but I do. He notices that and immediately tries to
(28:54):
shake my hand. I refused. He didn't seem drunk or
on drugs, just off. Then things got weird. He points
behind me towards the field and insists, is that cabbage? Now?
To look where he's pointing, I would have had to
turn my back to him, but I could already see
part of the field to my left without turning around,
(29:17):
So I told him, yes, it's cabbage. It wasn't, but
I just wanted him to go away. He didn't accept
that answer and kept insisting, repeating the same question, trying
to get me to turn around. The whole time he
was standing less than a meter away from me. It
was incredibly tense. He could have done anything in that moment.
(29:40):
He said strange things like my driver told me there
was cabbage. I asked people but didn't understand. Then he
patted my shoulder, and that's when I really started to
get nervous. He walked behind me and crouched on the
edge of the field, again telling me to come look
and check if it was cabbage. I already told her
(30:00):
multiple times that it was Again, it wasn't, but I
was just trying to shut it down. As soon as
I felt like we had some space, I turned to
my friend and said quietly grab your bag. Run. At first,
she thought I was joking, but when she saw me
take off, she followed. We ran about twenty meters away.
(30:20):
Before I glanced back, he was walking in our direction slowly,
but then vanished behind one of the kindergarten buildings. We
were shaken. We say goodbye and quickly split up, each
heading home in different directions. I had to pass the
elementary school next to the kindergarten to get home, and
that's when I saw him again. He was back, coming
(30:44):
down a small road between the field and the kindergarten school.
Phone in hand, screamed it up. It was like he
was tracking something. I didn't take my chances. I turned
and ran straight to my friend's house. Her dad ended
up driving me home that night. We talked about what
happened and realized it could have been something much darker,
(31:05):
maybe attempted kidnapping, maybe something to do with trafficking the
fact that he didn't speak a single word of French
was weird on his own, but his whole act seemed
like a setup. That cabbage thing felt like a trick,
just a way to isolate one of us or make
us move out of position. Later, I told my friend
(31:26):
who lives in our town what had happened, and he
said he's seen the same guy earlier that day, wandering
around and acting strangely. We're both okay now, but the
whole experience really rattled us. Sometimes I wonder if we
were overthinking it, but my goat told me something was
very wrong, and I have learned to trust that instinct.
(31:46):
To the man who tried to trap us with a
weird cabbage excuse, let's not meet again.
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