August 13, 2025 • 15 mins
"It was just a normal walk… until she realized they weren’t alone."
In this chilling double feature, we explore two true scary stories about walking alone:
1️⃣ A woman and her loyal rescue dog enjoy peaceful late-night walks... until they suspect someone is following them. 2️⃣ A kid gets permission to leave school with a friend, but the other boy's uncle appears to pick him up - explaining that his friend is already waiting at home.
These aren't urban legends. They're real experiences shared by real people... and they just might make you think twice the next time you take a peaceful walk..
Keep your eyes open. And always trust your instincts.
In this chilling double feature, we explore two true scary stories about walking alone:
1️⃣ A woman and her loyal rescue dog enjoy peaceful late-night walks... until they suspect someone is following them. 2️⃣ A kid gets permission to leave school with a friend, but the other boy's uncle appears to pick him up - explaining that his friend is already waiting at home.
These aren't urban legends. They're real experiences shared by real people... and they just might make you think twice the next time you take a peaceful walk..
Keep your eyes open. And always trust your instincts.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:11):
I'm twenty six years old. I work remotely, and I've
got a rescue dog named Layla, a pity lab mix
with giant eyes and an even bigger heart. She was
skiddish and rail thin when I adopted her, but now
she's got more gear than I do. Collapsible water bowl,
(00:33):
reflective harness, dual clip leashes, doggie boots for the snow,
even a cooling vest for the summer. She of course,
rides shotgun everywhere, and I always carry a small pack
with extra food, a towel, backup leash, her favorite ball,
(00:54):
and plenty of doggie bags. That's why this thing has
stuck with me, because I am responsible. I try to
do everything right. It started on a Thursday night, some
time past eleven. We'd been out later than usual, but
(01:16):
I like night walks. They're quieter. There's less traffic, less
chance of a reactive dog or a squirrel throwing Leylah
into a frenzy. We live in a town home complex
near the edge of a wooded park with a pond
and walking trails that curl around the outskirts like a border.
(01:38):
Laylah went to the bathroom near the sidewalk, which was normal.
I picked it up and kept going. Then she went
again near the community mailbox. I grabbed another bag, picked
up her waist, and tied it off, thinking nothing of it.
We were almost home when she stopped again for a
(02:00):
third time, which never happens. She squatted awkwardly by the
edge of a shared lawn between garages. I reached for
another bag and felt nothing, an empty loop on the dispenser.
My stomach dropped. I checked my coat, her backpack, my jeans. Nothing.
(02:27):
I thought about one of the cheap grocery bags I
have in my car, but even that was blocks away.
I looked around. There were no garbage cans, no wrappers, newspapers,
containers I could use at all. I felt so awkward
just standing there next to it, unsure what to do.
(02:48):
But at least it wasn't a private yard. It was
a patch of shared grass that no one really uses.
I told myself I would run back with a bag
after getting her inside. It would be a ten minute job.
Tops Still, I hated leaving it. When we got home,
(03:08):
Laylah flopped on the rug like she hadn't just embarrassed
me in public, and I quickly got distracted answering messages.
I sat down to fold laundry, and when I looked
at the clock again, it was almost one thirty. I
had totally forgotten. The next night, we took the same route.
(03:31):
It was a little earlier, probably ten forty five. The
air had that summer heaviness to it, like it hadn't
cooled off even after it was dark. Layla was bouncing slightly,
ears perked up. She always gets a second wind when
we go out late. As we walked along, I started
(03:54):
to feel really strange, not like I forgot something, but
like someone was watching. I glanced around and behind us
there was a guy standing at the corner, tall, wearing
a dark beanie, just standing still in a pool of
(04:15):
light under one of the few lamp posts. I didn't
recognize him, and I thought it was really weird that
he wasn't holding a leash or a dog. Maybe it
was just a neighbor, I thought, so we kept walking.
As we went, Layla was staying unusually close. She typically
(04:39):
weaves around to sniff bushes, but tonight she was hugging
my leg. We turned a corner and a few minutes
later I looked back and the man was following us.
We kept going and I kept glancing back. He was
always there. At one point I slowed way down and
(05:04):
started to fiddle with Layelah's harness, trying to see if
the guy would pass us. But he didn't. He was
the same distance away, quiet and steady, as if he
was deliberately matching our pace. Now that I was officially
weirded out, we crossed the complex and veered onto a
(05:27):
side trail that cuts between the town homes and curves
around the pond. It's not exactly well lit. There are
just a few dim solar lights and a motion censor
near the old gazebo. It was the long way home,
but I was hoping it would give us some distance.
(05:49):
As we continued on, Layelah's ears were rigid. I kept
checking behind us, but finally the guy was gone. I
started to wonder if I had overreacted when we hit
the gravel path that led back toward the main parking lot,
but that's when we saw him again. He was already there,
(06:15):
standing beside the wooden fence near the tennis court, like
he was waiting for us. I don't know how he
could have made it that distance, even if he was running.
There were no short cuts that I knew of that
would make any sense, yet he was just there. Laylah froze.
(06:38):
My legs went stiff. The guy stepped forward. I nearly
dropped the leash. He reached into his coat. I pulled
Leylah behind me, ready to run or scream or swing,
but he pulled out a small plastic object, a doggie
(07:00):
bag dispenser, bright orange, shaped like a bone, one of
those cheap things you get in a three pack for
five bucks. I saw you last night, he said, what.
I blinked. I keep an eye on the neighborhood, he said,
(07:24):
stepping closer. I didn't respond. My mouth was dry. Most
people here don't care, but I do. I notice. He
extended the keychain toward me. I didn't take it. If
(07:45):
I ever see you leave anything again, he said, I
will report you to the HOA, to animal control, whatever
I have to do. This is your only warning. Then
he dropped the doggie bag dispenser into my palm and
(08:08):
walked away. I stood there, staring at his back for
a while, but he never turned back around. He just
vanished into the darkness past the trailhead. Laylah nudged me
gently with her tail low and we went home in silence.
(08:29):
I don't know who he was. I've never seen him before,
never spotted him at the mailbox or walking at night,
not once. But he knew my face, and somehow he
had gotten from behind us to in front of us
without a sound. But now that stupid keychain lives on
(08:56):
Layla's leash. It's tacky and ugly and cheap, but I
won't take it off. I've refilled it three times since then.
I always think to check it before we leave the house.
I usually carry extras in my jacket pocket just in case,
(09:17):
But now, when it's late and the streets are quiet,
I keep looking over my shoulder, just to make sure
that he's not there watching. But I know I won't
forget again, not ever. This happened when I was in
(09:55):
fourth grade. That was the last year of elementary school
before kids were allowed to walk home on their own.
My mom always picked me up on the last day
of school, and this particular day, I had a play
date scheduled with my best friend Dennis to celebrate. Dennis
(10:17):
wasn't in my class that year, but we had been
friends since kindergarten. After the bell rang, we lined up
and I waited outside for my teacher, Miss Blue for
Dennis's dad to pick us up. As I stood there,
I heard my name. I looked over and saw a
(10:38):
man waving at me. He introduced himself as Dennis's uncle
and said he was there to pick me up. I
turned to my teacher and said, I'm being picked up.
She asked where my ride was, and I pointed to
the man who waved at her. So she let me
go with him and we walked away through the crowd
(11:00):
of parents. He was walking so fast I had trouble
keeping up. He was talking non stop, asking about school,
sports and what I was learning in class. I didn't
really pay much attention. I was too distracted, and it
was only when we got to the car that I
(11:22):
realized something was off. Where's Dennis, I asked, isn't he
coming with us? The man turned to look at me
and said, Dennis is at the house. I felt confused,
but I didn't say anything. We got inside the car
(11:45):
and the drive felt longer than it should have. The
streets were unfamiliar, and I started to get really nervous.
We got to the house and the man led me
inside and shut the door behind behind us. The place
was dim, with all the curtains drawn. He smiled at me,
(12:07):
and I asked again, where's Dennis. He said Denis was
in the basement playing video games. He said I could
wait there while he went to get him. I was
starting to panic now. Something didn't feel right. When he disappeared,
I tried the front door, but it was locked. I
(12:31):
was stuck. I had to think fast. I ran to
the kitchen and found a phone on the wall. I
picked it up and dialed nine one one, whispering, please
come to this house. I think I've been kidnapped. I
hung up and hid the phone under a towel. The
(12:53):
man returned and called for me to come downstairs, but
I didn't move. Then he rushed at me me and
grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the basement. I screamed
and cried, but he didn't stop. He dragged me down
the stairs, where I saw an empty, unfinished basement with
(13:15):
only one light bulb hanging overhead. Shortly after, there were
footsteps above, followed by banging sounds. The police were at
the door. I screamed for help and banged on the
basement door. Then it opened and a police officer grabbed
me and pulled me outside. There were cop cars everywhere.
(13:40):
The man was taken away in handcuffs, and I never
saw him ever again. It turns out that he was
a work associate of Denis's father. He had somehow learned
that Denis's dad would be picking us up and took
up the opportunity to do but he did. I never
(14:02):
thought to ask how he knew what I looked like.
My mom and I went to counseling for months after
the incident, and my parents didn't have kind words for
Miss Blue either, for not verifying carefully who was picking
me up. If I hadn't seen the phone and I
(14:23):
hadn't thought to call nine one one, I'm certain that
I wouldn't be here to day. It's been seventeen years
since that happened, and I don't know if that man
is out of prison or still alive. But I'll never
forget the feeling of being in that basement. If I
(15:01):
hadn't seen the phone, if I hadn't thought to call
nine to eleventh,
I'm twenty six years old. I work remotely, and I've
got a rescue dog named Layla, a pity lab mix
with giant eyes and an even bigger heart. She was
skiddish and rail thin when I adopted her, but now
she's got more gear than I do. Collapsible water bowl,
(00:33):
reflective harness, dual clip leashes, doggie boots for the snow,
even a cooling vest for the summer. She of course,
rides shotgun everywhere, and I always carry a small pack
with extra food, a towel, backup leash, her favorite ball,
(00:54):
and plenty of doggie bags. That's why this thing has
stuck with me, because I am responsible. I try to
do everything right. It started on a Thursday night, some
time past eleven. We'd been out later than usual, but
(01:16):
I like night walks. They're quieter. There's less traffic, less
chance of a reactive dog or a squirrel throwing Leylah
into a frenzy. We live in a town home complex
near the edge of a wooded park with a pond
and walking trails that curl around the outskirts like a border.
(01:38):
Laylah went to the bathroom near the sidewalk, which was normal.
I picked it up and kept going. Then she went
again near the community mailbox. I grabbed another bag, picked
up her waist, and tied it off, thinking nothing of it.
We were almost home when she stopped again for a
(02:00):
third time, which never happens. She squatted awkwardly by the
edge of a shared lawn between garages. I reached for
another bag and felt nothing, an empty loop on the dispenser.
My stomach dropped. I checked my coat, her backpack, my jeans. Nothing.
(02:27):
I thought about one of the cheap grocery bags I
have in my car, but even that was blocks away.
I looked around. There were no garbage cans, no wrappers, newspapers,
containers I could use at all. I felt so awkward
just standing there next to it, unsure what to do.
(02:48):
But at least it wasn't a private yard. It was
a patch of shared grass that no one really uses.
I told myself I would run back with a bag
after getting her inside. It would be a ten minute job.
Tops Still, I hated leaving it. When we got home,
(03:08):
Laylah flopped on the rug like she hadn't just embarrassed
me in public, and I quickly got distracted answering messages.
I sat down to fold laundry, and when I looked
at the clock again, it was almost one thirty. I
had totally forgotten. The next night, we took the same route.
(03:31):
It was a little earlier, probably ten forty five. The
air had that summer heaviness to it, like it hadn't
cooled off even after it was dark. Layla was bouncing slightly,
ears perked up. She always gets a second wind when
we go out late. As we walked along, I started
(03:54):
to feel really strange, not like I forgot something, but
like someone was watching. I glanced around and behind us
there was a guy standing at the corner, tall, wearing
a dark beanie, just standing still in a pool of
(04:15):
light under one of the few lamp posts. I didn't
recognize him, and I thought it was really weird that
he wasn't holding a leash or a dog. Maybe it
was just a neighbor, I thought, so we kept walking.
As we went, Layla was staying unusually close. She typically
(04:39):
weaves around to sniff bushes, but tonight she was hugging
my leg. We turned a corner and a few minutes
later I looked back and the man was following us.
We kept going and I kept glancing back. He was
always there. At one point I slowed way down and
(05:04):
started to fiddle with Layelah's harness, trying to see if
the guy would pass us. But he didn't. He was
the same distance away, quiet and steady, as if he
was deliberately matching our pace. Now that I was officially
weirded out, we crossed the complex and veered onto a
(05:27):
side trail that cuts between the town homes and curves
around the pond. It's not exactly well lit. There are
just a few dim solar lights and a motion censor
near the old gazebo. It was the long way home,
but I was hoping it would give us some distance.
(05:49):
As we continued on, Layelah's ears were rigid. I kept
checking behind us, but finally the guy was gone. I
started to wonder if I had overreacted when we hit
the gravel path that led back toward the main parking lot,
but that's when we saw him again. He was already there,
(06:15):
standing beside the wooden fence near the tennis court, like
he was waiting for us. I don't know how he
could have made it that distance, even if he was running.
There were no short cuts that I knew of that
would make any sense, yet he was just there. Laylah froze.
(06:38):
My legs went stiff. The guy stepped forward. I nearly
dropped the leash. He reached into his coat. I pulled
Leylah behind me, ready to run or scream or swing,
but he pulled out a small plastic object, a doggie
(07:00):
bag dispenser, bright orange, shaped like a bone, one of
those cheap things you get in a three pack for
five bucks. I saw you last night, he said, what.
I blinked. I keep an eye on the neighborhood, he said,
(07:24):
stepping closer. I didn't respond. My mouth was dry. Most
people here don't care, but I do. I notice. He
extended the keychain toward me. I didn't take it. If
(07:45):
I ever see you leave anything again, he said, I
will report you to the HOA, to animal control, whatever
I have to do. This is your only warning. Then
he dropped the doggie bag dispenser into my palm and
(08:08):
walked away. I stood there, staring at his back for
a while, but he never turned back around. He just
vanished into the darkness past the trailhead. Laylah nudged me
gently with her tail low and we went home in silence.
(08:29):
I don't know who he was. I've never seen him before,
never spotted him at the mailbox or walking at night,
not once. But he knew my face, and somehow he
had gotten from behind us to in front of us
without a sound. But now that stupid keychain lives on
(08:56):
Layla's leash. It's tacky and ugly and cheap, but I
won't take it off. I've refilled it three times since then.
I always think to check it before we leave the house.
I usually carry extras in my jacket pocket just in case,
(09:17):
But now, when it's late and the streets are quiet,
I keep looking over my shoulder, just to make sure
that he's not there watching. But I know I won't
forget again, not ever. This happened when I was in
(09:55):
fourth grade. That was the last year of elementary school
before kids were allowed to walk home on their own.
My mom always picked me up on the last day
of school, and this particular day, I had a play
date scheduled with my best friend Dennis to celebrate. Dennis
(10:17):
wasn't in my class that year, but we had been
friends since kindergarten. After the bell rang, we lined up
and I waited outside for my teacher, Miss Blue for
Dennis's dad to pick us up. As I stood there,
I heard my name. I looked over and saw a
(10:38):
man waving at me. He introduced himself as Dennis's uncle
and said he was there to pick me up. I
turned to my teacher and said, I'm being picked up.
She asked where my ride was, and I pointed to
the man who waved at her. So she let me
go with him and we walked away through the crowd
(11:00):
of parents. He was walking so fast I had trouble
keeping up. He was talking non stop, asking about school,
sports and what I was learning in class. I didn't
really pay much attention. I was too distracted, and it
was only when we got to the car that I
(11:22):
realized something was off. Where's Dennis, I asked, isn't he
coming with us? The man turned to look at me
and said, Dennis is at the house. I felt confused,
but I didn't say anything. We got inside the car
(11:45):
and the drive felt longer than it should have. The
streets were unfamiliar, and I started to get really nervous.
We got to the house and the man led me
inside and shut the door behind behind us. The place
was dim, with all the curtains drawn. He smiled at me,
(12:07):
and I asked again, where's Dennis. He said Denis was
in the basement playing video games. He said I could
wait there while he went to get him. I was
starting to panic now. Something didn't feel right. When he disappeared,
I tried the front door, but it was locked. I
(12:31):
was stuck. I had to think fast. I ran to
the kitchen and found a phone on the wall. I
picked it up and dialed nine one one, whispering, please
come to this house. I think I've been kidnapped. I
hung up and hid the phone under a towel. The
(12:53):
man returned and called for me to come downstairs, but
I didn't move. Then he rushed at me me and
grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the basement. I screamed
and cried, but he didn't stop. He dragged me down
the stairs, where I saw an empty, unfinished basement with
(13:15):
only one light bulb hanging overhead. Shortly after, there were
footsteps above, followed by banging sounds. The police were at
the door. I screamed for help and banged on the
basement door. Then it opened and a police officer grabbed
me and pulled me outside. There were cop cars everywhere.
(13:40):
The man was taken away in handcuffs, and I never
saw him ever again. It turns out that he was
a work associate of Denis's father. He had somehow learned
that Denis's dad would be picking us up and took
up the opportunity to do but he did. I never
(14:02):
thought to ask how he knew what I looked like.
My mom and I went to counseling for months after
the incident, and my parents didn't have kind words for
Miss Blue either, for not verifying carefully who was picking
me up. If I hadn't seen the phone and I
(14:23):
hadn't thought to call nine one one, I'm certain that
I wouldn't be here to day. It's been seventeen years
since that happened, and I don't know if that man
is out of prison or still alive. But I'll never
forget the feeling of being in that basement. If I
(15:01):
hadn't seen the phone, if I hadn't thought to call
nine to eleventh,
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