Disturbing TRUE AirBNB Stories | Malevolent Mischief
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Listening to some of the stories featured here reminded me of something that happened during my holiday this past Christmas. I went on a family vacation with my dad, mom, and brother to Tasmania, which is this big island to the south of Australia. I wasn't terribly interested in the trip, just wanted to spend time with my family, so I left all the bookings to my dad, and after this, I never will again.

He has his own Airbnb that he manages, so I thought he would be able to find decent places on his own. But I guess that's my fault for assuming the best. When we rocked up to the Airbnb that my dad had booked, the first thought I had was, "If I wanted to sell drugs, I would probably do it here." My mom wasn't impressed at all and was already telling my dad off for booking it. I didn't say anything though. Maybe the inside would be nicer, but it was a dingy little house. The paint was peeling.

The roof was rusty, and there were plants overgrown to the side of the building, almost as if they were grown into the actual foundation and the wooden planks of the house. There were three entrances. The first one I worked out was the entrance for the host. It looked okay, not as bad as our entrance, a little tidier even. It went downstairs, so we figured out after a while that the host most likely lived below us. The second entryway looked like it was the main entrance to the house, but it was sealed shut,

The door looked like it would break down if anyone was to even push on it slightly, and it was obviously unused. The third door was ours, and aside from the overgrown plants lining it, it was fairly normal. From the looks of it, we figured out later that it looks like the host had divided the house up somehow. She lived below, we rocked upstairs, but there was one half of the house upstairs that just wasn't accounted for. It's hard to explain, but the space we occupied

only made up half the house, and it only went up to the main entrance that I spoke of, which was exactly in the middle of the house. We checked in, which consisted of grabbing the keys from the outside lockbox. The host had never contacted us up to this point. All was well on the inside. It looked a little bit old, but it wasn't creepy from the get-go. Now, I did notice some odd things, and I only mentioned this to my dad. There were a bunch of antique instruments displayed at the entrance.

and right on the top of one of the pianos were three things that looked like urns. Now, to explain, I'm of Chinese descent, and these urns freaked me the f*ck out. Some people think they're for displaying, but we use them to store dead people's ashes, as is customary in several other places in the world. So, I really didn't like them being there. I told my dad, and he didn't exactly like it either.

but he went and tapped on the urn to see if there was something in it, and from his tap, he couldn't quite tell. But he did mention that the one that he tapped was definitely one used for ashes. It had scripts on it, for like, safe passage to the afterworld, at least from what he could make out. After I stopped freaking out, I went and called dibs on the biggest room, but then noticed that there were heaps of mirrors all around this room.

Again, another thing, not sure if it's Chinese necessarily, but we don't like sleeping with mirrors facing us when we are in bed, at least if we can help it. So I went to move one of them, which was smack bang in front of the bed. It was leaned up against a door, and when I took the mirror away, the door actually opened a little bit. The placement of the mirror and the door being ajar freaked me out a little bit more, so I got my dad, and we decided that it was better that I slept with mom in another room, and he would take this room with my brother.

Again, my dad being dad, he opened the door a little bit and shouted, "Hello!" before I told him to shut up. I had a peek inside, but I couldn't make out much, only that it was dusty and seemed to be a part of the other half of the house. Soon after this, my dad placed a chair and a suitcase in front of the door to help keep it shut. Now, fast forward to that night, everyone was sleepy and headed for bed.

I stayed up a little late because I had some emails from work to catch up on and I went to work in the living room area. At one point in the evening, likely no later than 11:30, I felt like I heard a few thumps coming from above me, but I didn't know how that could be because the only thing above me was the roof. It sounded like footsteps and then they were followed by the loudest and most horrendous noise. It sounded almost as if a train was on top of me, screeching like steel on steel.

and it lasted for about 10 seconds. I literally froze at that point. I didn't know what to do. I thought my dad would come check on me, but no one ever did. Once the sound stopped, I didn't go and seek anybody out because if I was the only one that heard it, I didn't want to sound crazy. I didn't say anything the next morning because I thought that maybe there was a chance that I imagined it out of sheer tiredness. But the following night, the same thing, except I was in bed this time, not quite asleep.

It was around the same time that the same exact noise started up once more. My mom woke up, but was just as frozen as me. Dad eventually came to check on us, and we were all just frozen there listening to this noise, wondering what the hell it was. After it stopped, we were all freaked, but managed to shrug it off and catch some sleep. But before I nodded off, I remember hearing some faint thumps, just like the ones from the night before.

The next morning we had kind of a family meeting of sorts to discuss all of this. That's when I told him about the first night. We were extremely unsettled at this point and extremely glad that it was checkout day. We just got the hell out of there. To my knowledge, we never found out what that was. The creepiest thing though was that after we packed up and were well away from this place, dad was driving but he still looked really disturbed so I asked him if he was alright.

He said, "I am now, but I didn't sleep so well last night." I pressed him on this and asked him, "Was it the noise?" He said no, that didn't bother him much compared to the other thing that he experienced. What bothered him was when we left the property on the second day, he still had his suitcase on top of the chair blocking the door in his room. He had just showered, so he also left a towel on the chair to dry. He said when we returned, he noticed the door was slightly ajar again.

The chair had moved slightly, and the towel was now on the floor, as if someone had tried to push it from the other side, but was unsuccessful after they noticed all the stuff on the other end. I forced him to ask the host about the noise and the door. She replied that the door was the door to her "art room" and that any noise that we heard coming from the roof was likely just a possum. No need to be worried about it. I don't believe her. That noise wasn't something an animal would make, and even wracking my brain now,

I don't know what it would have taken for a human to make that noise either. Suffice it to say, we won't be heading back to that Airbnb. And host, just know that if you got a negative review, that was from us. The search for truth never ends. Introducing June's Journey, a hidden object mobile game with a captivating story. Connect with friends, explore the roaring 20s, and enjoy thrilling activities and challenges while supporting environmental causes.

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I'm going to keep some of these details vague because I seriously don't want the host to find out that I shared this story. I don't think they would approve, and while withholding some of that stuff, I'll still try my best to make this as comprehensive as possible. I spent a year studying in Mexico recently, and as you do on exchange, I tried to travel as much as I could. Between the semesters, there's a big break, and between myself and my buddy that I spent most of the time with during the exchange,

We decided we'd go on a longer backpacking trip through Mexico together. We had a rough plan on where to go and what we wanted to see, but we hadn't even booked our flight back yet, nor were we sure from where we would take it from. We wanted to keep things flexible. We had an amazing time, and a few days before our trip ended, we finally decided we would take our flight from a city that was close and had some really cheap flights, but the city itself didn't really have anything to offer but on Airbnb,

We found a room very close to the airport, in a house with a pool, and we thought we'd treat ourselves to a relaxed pool day at the end of our trip. It turned out that the hosts were a family. The husband was Mexican, the wife was from Europe, and was even fluent in our native language. So we arranged that we would take a bus to the airport and that they would pick us up from there. When we finally arrived in the city, it was already dark, and the bus driver refused to drive us to the airport since it wasn't directly in his route.

So he basically dropped us off on the highway, that was already a pretty shitty situation to begin with, standing with our backpacks at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, in a not so safe region of Mexico. But I called the hosts, sent them our GPS location, and they said no problem, they'd come and get us. So the husband came to pick us up, although it was a rather uncomfortable situation to be getting into a car with a stranger in the middle of nowhere.

It also didn't help that the guy looked like Danny Trejo, without a mustache. And as I did my best to make small talk with him, he only gave single syllable answers or straight out ignored me. Well, he's just not a big talker I thought, and I hoped that we would arrive soon. Looking back now, I can see a million red flags, but for some reason, at that time, we just didn't see them. Either we were too tired or, to be honest,

We didn't really have any other choice than simply going along. So anyway, we arrive, and that should have immediately set alarms off. Once again, we were even deeper in the middle of f*cking nowhere. Nothing but fields of sheep and goats around, when all of a sudden, a gravel road branches off from the paved road, and along the gravel, there are about six huge mansions, all with two-meter walls surrounding them, topped with nado fence, huge gates,

and at least two gigantic guard dogs per house. When we made it to where we were staying, we were greeted by the wife, a bubbly middle-aged woman that was very talkative and overall very pleasant. She had actually cooked dinner for us, and we ate while exchanging small talk. The husband just sat at the table, not saying a single word. After dinner, we more or less went directly to bed because it had gotten late on us, and we were tired from our long day.

The next morning we saw that the weather was not so good, so we decided to head into town and see a few touristy things that it had to offer, instead of spending it at the pool. When we came back, it was already dark, but at that point we decided to jump into the pool anyway. We were here. The wife joined us, and at some point my friend made the mistake to ask how they were able to afford such a beautiful house. It really didn't match the price range of jobs that they were telling us they were doing.

She deflected a bit and added that her husband was very handy because he had grown up in the streets. He had basically built the house himself. We realized then that it maybe wasn't the best topic, so we broke the conversation off. This was to be the last day of our trip, and we had our flight back home early the next morning. We still had a little mota left that we had bought on the trip, and we thought that it might be nice to smoke a little bit since it was our last night. But this was a family home, and they had kids around.

We thought it might be better for us to speak to our hosts to see if they would mind. So later on in the evening, we asked the wife if it would be okay if we smoked out on the terrace, which for some reason she found quite amusing and began to laugh. She shouted to her husband who was lying on the couch watching TV, "Mi amor, the boys asked if it would be okay if they smoked some weed. What do you think?" He just laughed, but didn't give an answer. We looked at her with a dumbfounded expression,

And she told us, "Sure, just go ahead." So we went out to the terrace and began smoking our joint. Later, the husband and wife joined us and we had a nice little chat. This is where things got really fucked up. For some reason, they started asking all sorts of questions about the weed. Where we got it, how much it was, who we got it from, and how much we would have to pay for that back in Europe. They just seemed all too interested in the weed. And at one point,

The wife nonchalantly revealed to us, "Yeah, we thought about doing that as a source of income. You know, selling weed. But too many people die doing that because the cartels don't like it. Actually, my husband used to kill people for doing that." This admission immediately sobered me up. Did she just say that her husband used to murder people? And as if he read my mind, her husband added, "Yeah, when I was about 16,

I killed a lot of people for the cartel, for money, and the tone that he said it in, it was as if he just said that he used to mow lawns when he was a teenager. I still thought that I must have misunderstood, so I texted my friend who was sitting across the table from me, trying not to make eye contact, because I knew we would freak each other out. He confirmed that I had indeed understood correctly. We discuss what we should do, and agree that there's no immediate threat, that we should just stay.

Besides, we don't have anywhere else to go anyway, and it's already late. But from here, things got even crazier. We tried to keep our composure and not completely freak out while still making conversation with our hosts. A few minutes later though, the husband got up and went inside to grab something. He came back with a literal kilo of weed. It was pressed into a brick, and he proceeded to break bits off the brick and roll them into a joint. A joint that was about the size of my thumb, and if I had to guess,

I would say that there was about two grams in there. Of course, he offered the joint to us, but we politely declined, saying that we were already pretty stoned. He seemed a little bit offended, but fortunately for us, he bought our excuse. But wait, because it gets worse than that. A few minutes later, we heard a couple of loud bangs. The wife became a bit uneasy before asking her husband, "'What was that?' To which he answered calmly, "'Nine millimeters.'"

Which basically confirmed my suspicion. Which basically confirmed my suspicion. That that sound had indeed been shots. I would say it was around seven, maybe eight shots, fired pretty quickly after each other. The wife got nervous and asked if we should maybe go inside. And what do you think they're shooting at? In the air? Cows? At people? But the husband just shrugged it off and we stayed outside. When again, a few minutes later, there were more shots.

this time much closer in proximity. That's when the wife got even more upset and asked again, "Do you think we should go inside? What do you think they're shooting at?" I think I will never forget when he answered in the calmest way imaginable, "No, everything's okay. I haven't heard any screams yet." I don't know why, but the way he just calmly said that freaked me out even more than I already was. And even just thinking back on it makes my heart beat uncontrollably. After that,

We quickly excused ourselves and went to our room. When we finally could talk in private, we basically both lost it on each other and became absorbed by our panic. What the fuck were we supposed to do? We're locked in a house with a contract killer in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere and people are shooting outside. We decided that it was probably our best bet to stay because we thought, well, we're his guests. He's not going to harm us, right?

And plus, it's better to have walls and dogs, maybe even a serial killer, in between us and people shooting around. So we barricaded ourselves in the room and didn't sleep one second of that night before we noped the fuck out of there and went to the airport in the morning. I can tell you, I've never been so happy to be patted down at security in my entire life. I wanted to share this story as a warning to people. It's not necessarily as creepy as they come.

But it's a story that is weird and freaks me out to this day. So I'm traveling around the country in my car. I've been driving for over a week from the city I lived in, and have so far slept in my car every night as a means to save money. It wasn't until I got to a big enough city that I decided to treat myself to an actual bed, one that would be more comfortable than my back seat. I opted to find something on Airbnb because it's often cheaper than hotels.

I booked this particular stay the day before I arrived at the city, so there weren't many options left. I'd found this apartment, and it looked new, modern, and it was in a great location. The price was decent for its spot, and it almost seemed too good to be true. The only downfall was that it was listed as a "new listing," so it had zero reviews. I figured the price was so low because it was new, and decided that it would be worth giving it a shot.

It must be legit because it's Airbnb, right? When I got to the apartment building, it was much older looking than I had expected. I later found out that my Airbnb was the only renovated apartment in the building, and the building itself seemed to be in poor condition. It looked more like a dorm hall rather than a typical apartment building. Anyway, I let it all slide because I wasn't paying too much. So what could I really expect? The apartment itself looked like the pics in the posting.

so that was good enough for me. Everything went well for the first two days. As a female traveling alone, I always do my best to make sure I'm safe. I don't go out when it's dark, and I always lock the door behind me. Every single lock, including the chain thing. But on the third day, I was out all morning and came back to the apartment to change before heading to the beach. I had again locked the door, including the chain. I was in front of the door watching TV while changing when the door suddenly unlocks.

and someone begins to open it. Now, at this point, I realize that I'm beyond lucky to have put the lock chain on the door, or else it would have swung all the way open. I was standing there naked, and no one else was supposed to have the keys. My initial immediate reaction was to say, excuse me, before pushing the door shut and locking it once again. It took me a second to wrap my head around it, but I then try to look out the peephole, although I don't see anybody outside of the door.

I plant myself and sit in front of the door, both scared and shocked, realizing that whoever this person was could technically still get in here, since they obviously had the keys to the apartment. At first I thought maybe it was the owner coming back after I checked out, but I wasn't supposed to check out until the following day, so it wasn't likely that was the case. After catching my bearings for a few moments, I call the owner and told her what had happened.

She told me that no one else should have a set of keys other than her and I, and that she's at work, and it definitely wasn't her. At this point, I was scared to be in the apartment because someone could come in. I didn't want to leave because I had all my valuables here, and it seemed like a lose-lose situation. I then phoned my father, who told me that it was not okay that someone else had the keys, and that the host needs to take care of this ASAP. So that's when he called her, and she told him that she would be at the apartment shortly with a locksmith,

to change the locks and give me a new set of keys. Once there, the host proceeds to tell me that she's only had the apartment for six months and that before I stayed there, there was only one other Airbnb booking. She also mentioned to me that other than these two bookings, the apartment had been sitting empty because she'd been attempting to renovate it, which now makes sense as to why the building looked like absolute shit and didn't match the apartment. She told me that the only possibility for who that was

is that it could have been the previous owners or someone related to them. That theory really messed with me. How is it possible that I was gone all day, every day, and then the 10 minutes that I was home, someone tried to come in? Did they know I was there? What were they coming in for? If this apartment has been sitting empty for half a year, maybe that's something they did frequently. Or maybe they just saw me come in and tried to do something to me? These questions are constantly flowing in my mind.

I just know that I'm lucky that I put the chain on the door, or else, well, I don't even want to know what else could have happened. Beyond this day, I won't be staying in an Airbnb that has no reviews or seems too good to be true, because if it fits that bill, it's likely too good to be true.

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