Disturbing TRUE Stalker Stories
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Visit Trolley.com to shop now. Trolley, eat me! This story is very unusual. It didn't necessarily happen to me, as it happened to my entire family. As a result, I've asked a few questions to place everything together. A bit of background is necessary. I've been in Canada for the majority of my life, but I was born in Iran, where I spent the first eight years of my life. Also, it may be important to note that my dad had already gone to Canada to get things set up.

i.e. get a house for us, land a job, all so that we could join him. In the meantime, it was just my mom, my two older but still teenage sisters, and me, the token man of the house. I don't recall this original incident, but since I figure the story will make the most sense chronologically, this is where we have to begin. My mom got a phone call one day. A woman told her that a document had arrived for her and that she should wait for it to be delivered. My mom obviously got excited.

This was the time we were working on immigrating to Canada. So she waited, and waited, and waited. No documents. Maybe it was a wrong number. Maybe someone was messing with her. Whatever. A few weeks later, in the middle of the night, my mom gets another phone call, and it's that same woman once again. She asks my mom if she was still waiting for the documents. My mom is still convinced that there was just a miscommunication, until the woman tells her, "Wait, I'm going to come over tonight."

before hanging up the phone. I remember this particular evening because my mom freaked out, called some good family friends who came over and spent the night with us. Ultimately, no woman showed up. My mom says that this lady called occasionally, once every couple of months or so, and whenever my mom asked her her name, she would abruptly hang up. Fast forward, we've been in Canada for close to a decade. We're two continents and an ocean away. This incident is pretty much forgotten. Well, one day,

The phone rings. My mom picks it up and begins talking to a Persian woman. This woman seems to know everyone in our family fairly well, asking how they all are and things like that. My mom starts to wonder who she's talking to, but every time she speaks up, every time she asks, this woman just changes the subject. I don't know if my mom ever got a name out of this woman, but they ended up having a long conversation before hanging up, and my mom must have felt better about it. It was a pleasant phone call.

so pleasant that this woman calls again the next day. My mom again has a long conversation with her, but she's slightly more annoyed now. She keeps pushing her for an actual identification until this woman finally says, "Do you remember that time when I told you that I had some documents for you?" My mom suddenly realizes who she's talking to, and this only encourages her. By the end of the month, we were receiving dozens of phone calls at all hours of the day and night. Our house always had that ringing tune playing,

We would have to resort to unplugging the phone, and when we'd plug it back in, as if on cue, it would ring once more. At first, if someone other than my mom answered, she would ask for her. After a while though, and after a few abusive comments from me and my sisters, she wouldn't speak at all if anyone other than my mom picked up. It seems like eventually, she got bored though, and unfortunately, it wasn't the type of bored that we wished for. She started finding other numbers,

She would call my aunts, my uncles, who were spread across three continents, as well as my dad's cell, my sister's work phone, and my brand new cell phone, whose number I had not given to anyone, let alone this psychotic bitch. Not only was she getting all these numbers, but she also had a lot of information about us. My mom may have encouraged things a bit, because she actually used this woman for news and gossip about the family.

This woman knew more about my mom and my dad's families than my mom and dad even did. She also found a preferred target, my mom's mother. She would call her and have chats with her. One time, she pulled a similar prank on her. She told her that she wanted to go for a ride. When my grandmother looked out of her window, she claimed that there was a car there. I don't know if I believe this, but this is a woman who has access to people in four or five different countries, and it doesn't seem like anyone really knows where she is.

This story isn't really very chronological now that I think about it, so here are some even more odd events. My parents once took a trip to Iran to visit family. They wanted it to be a surprise, so they didn't tell anyone ahead of time. They were going to get a hotel room and then drop in on some family. Except when they got to the airport, my uncle was there to pick them up. When they inquired about how my uncle knew, he said that he had received a phone call saying that they were coming.

Every house they visited on that trip got a phone call while they were there. More recently, my uncle, a different uncle, passed away. It was sudden, and my mom and her siblings decided that it would be better if they didn't tell my grandmother, who was living with us at this point. The news was not widespread immediately. My uncle's roommate had called my aunt, whose husband drove over and told my dad, who told my mom. Well, we get that trusty phone call, except this woman doesn't want to speak to my mom.

but rather my grandmother when my mom pushes her to tell us why. This woman says that she wants to tell her about her dead son. There was also a period of time where we would get a series of calls that were just white noise with a tinge of music in the background, or even people talking, as if someone dialed and placed the phone down on a table. This woman claims that that's not her, so either we had two people constantly calling us, or someone here is lying.

As I realize that this story is slowly going nowhere fast, I'll try to provide something of a conclusion. Everyone ended up getting sick and tired of this, and one day they decided that something must be done, so they went to the police. This woman always called from blocked numbers, and the one time where her number wasn't blocked, it was using a calling card. Anyway, the police looked into it a bit and said that it was impossible to tell where she was calling from and that we'd need to hire a private detective.

which we weren't going to do. But since then, the calls have been fewer. I make a point of screening all calls now, and we often get callers that don't leave a message, but it's difficult to tell if they're her or just people who don't want to leave messages. I guess we'll find out how good she is by whether or not the calls increase after I post this. After all, if she could find my new cell phone number, finding my sparsely used Reddit account would probably be a cakewalk. What I'm about to share with you

Happened a few months back, I believe it was February, when my boyfriend and I had decided to try out an open relationship for a little while, for various reasons. We live separately in one of the larger cities in the north of middle America, and there's a decently sized population of college students, like myself, to keep the gay community fresh. So I was doing pretty well for myself. One night, I was bored and scrolling through Grindr, looking for an easy hookup.

when I got a message from a guy whose geolocation said that he was no more than 800 feet away from me. He wasn't terrible looking, and I was a little bit desperate, so I agreed to go to his place. He lives quite literally down the street from me. I can see his building from my window, so I walked over, and he let me up into his apartment. We made some small talk. I mentioned where I lived. Hell, I even pointed out my window from one of the windows in the stairwell. From the get-go,

I thought there was something off about this guy. Not necessarily bad, just different. An odd twitch in his hands when he gripped the banister. The vacancy of his eyes when he smiled. I'm not so cliche as to say he felt evil or anything like that. But I wasn't exactly surprised that after we got to his apartment, the first thing he did was tell his very pretty and friendly cat to say hello. And the second thing he did was walk over to the kitchen counter, grab a needle, and shoot up.

I hadn't even closed the door behind me at this point. I stood there staring, and he turned around, dropped the needle on the counter, and went, "Ah shit, man. I shoulda asked. You cool with that?" Now, I'm not a good Christian boy. I've broken into a church while tripping on LSD before. I had sex on a headstone back in high school. But I have my standards. So I shook my head mutely, pulled my hat back on, and stepped back outside the door to leave. The guy rushed over and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yo, I'm sorry, you don't gotta go. We don't have to do anything intimate. Do you want to watch Transformers 3 with me or something?" "Nope," I said bluntly, hustling away down the stairs. I bundled up my scarf against the early February chill and hurried back down the street to my apartment. But he followed me downstairs, barefoot, in pajama pants and a t-shirt, until I stepped outside into the whipping winds. I turned back briefly to look after a moment.

and he was still standing there in the doorway, just watching me. I didn't have any premonitions of doom or weirdness. I grew up in Missouri. Junkies barely register as odd to me by this point. So I just went home and headed off to bed. Now, you might have guessed it, but I'd never seen this dude around the neighborhood before. Truthfully, I hadn't seen most of my neighbors, because my neighborhood is an odd mixture of white-collar suburbia, college housing, and low-income housing, like my paramour's building.

All on a single street. So it didn't really register when I started seeing him more. I would leave for work in the afternoon, and he'd be on the other avenue across from my building, just strolling along. Or he'd cut across my building's parking lot, like all the kids in the neighborhood did. A couple of times, I saw him walking across the campus mall. My apartment building is directly adjacent to my campus, but he'd always swerve to avoid me. Once or twice, I'd notice him in the grocery store that I work at as a barista.

but it's the only one within walking distance, and he mentioned that he didn't have a car. This went on for the entire month of February. Eventually, I began to take notice. He'd always be walking down the street opposite my building when I left for work at my usual time, and he was only ever at the store when I was working. He'd never approach the coffee stand where I work, but he'd look directly at me. A couple of times, I noticed him enter, look at me, pretend to shop, and then leave without buying a thing.

I was beginning to feel creeped out, but he hadn't done anything yet, nothing to make me feel particularly unsafe. One day, late February, I was working an early shift. When I got off, I felt a little crazy from lack of sleep, and I got back to my place about 20 minutes before I'd usually be leaving for work. On the corner of the sidewalk opposite me was the guy who was checking his watch over and over in between looking up at my building.

I did a bit of brilliant deductive analysis and followed his gaze up to my living room window. He looked right at me. There was this quick moment of tension as we stared right into each other's eyes. Like I said, the dude didn't give off any evil or dark vibes. I've met people that do. No, what I saw in this guy's eyes and his face was much more human and deeply more terrifying. Desperation, loneliness, pain, and anger.

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But I'm tall, long-legged, a former sprinter, whereas he was a 5'8 junkie wearing flip-flops on ice. I made it to the first set of doors to my apartment, scanned myself in through the second, and locked the doors behind me. He walked through the first, unlocked set, tried to open the second, tried pushing the handicap button to open them before giving up. "'Look, man, I'm sorry,' he shouted, laying a hand on the glass of the door. "'Do you think we can talk about it?' I shook my head."

"Absolutely not. Leave me alone." Then I whirled on my heel, stomped over to the elevator, and when I turned back, he was gone out into the snow. I didn't see him for a couple of weeks afterward, which was nice, because my boyfriend likes to walk down the street past this dude's apartment when he stays over at my place and needs to go down to smoke. One night, my boyfriend was over at my place. He had just gone out to smoke before we went to bed, and he mentioned that he wanted me to come with him the next time that he went out.

"Why?" I asked him, pulling him in close to me while he shivered. "It's dark and cold, and I get paranoid out there sometimes," he mumbled into my chest. "There's also this creepy dude that sometimes stands on the corner across the way, and he just stares at the building." One time he asked me for a cig, and I told him I didn't have one when I literally was holding one in my hand. He laughed, kissed my chin, then promptly passed out. I laid there awake, troubled, when I was sure my boyfriend was deeply asleep.

meaning after about five minutes had passed. I extricated myself and went to the window. It was a cold, clear night. I could see across the street under the orange glow of a streetlight. There he was. I couldn't make him out clearly, but when he saw me, he waved. I flipped him off, closed the blinds. I didn't feel like I should tell my boyfriend because he was either going to immediately go to the police, which I hate doing, or he'd try and defend me.

And while I love him with my entire heart, I don't want to watch a fight between a junkie stalker and my underweight nicotine-addicted boyfriend. So I kept it to myself and still haven't told him. But I did start accompanying him when he went out to smoke. This guy was usually outside. Sometimes he'd follow us for a bit before ducking away down a side street. Sometimes he'd watch from a distance. Other times he'd be up in his apartment. My boyfriend never noticed. I kept my composure and nothing happened.

One night though, we went out so my boyfriend could smoke, just like normal. When we'd reached the end of the street and turned back around, the stalker guy was behind us, maybe 30 or so feet back. I turned my head to check, and there he was. He waved at me again, and something told me that I needed to get back inside. "'Hey babe,' I said quietly to my boyfriend, "'let's get back. Yeah, I'm a bit cold.'"

He acknowledged this by simply saying, "Okay, I'm almost done anyway." We walked back to the apartment building, and without turning, I knew that the stalker was behind us the entire time. I kept my hand intertwined with my boyfriend's, and kept up the casual conversation we'd been having about how I hate geese. We got back to my apartment, and he got changed for bed while I grabbed some water. So, I've never lived in an apartment before, and I don't know if it's odd or not, but this building has a wired telephone in each unit.

It rings when someone wants to be let in. Ours never rings, unless it's Uber Eats. So my boyfriend was surprised when it started ringing late that night, when neither of us had ordered anything. "Probably just some asshole playing a prank," I said, unhooking the phone from the wall and putting it in the kitchen cabinet. He accepted this rationale without a struggle, and we laid down in bed. After he was soundly out, I got up, got dressed,

grabbed a few things, and then headed downstairs in my thick winter coat. Sure enough, my fanboy was out there, standing in the parking lot. He waved at me and jogged over, smiling broadly. "Hey man, what do you want?" I said flatly. "Look, I feel like we ended things awkwardly last time, and I just wanted to talk to you." "So you stalked me?" "What?" He started to look angrier, his brows furrowing. "No man, I didn't stalk you.

"I just wanted to know when I could talk to you, but you always avoid me. Now you're walking around here with that skinny little bitch boy trying to rub it in my face, and I don't fucking appreciate that." "Look, man," he continued, smiling again and stepping closer, "you want to go talk about this back at my place? Ditch that little boy and come hang out with me tonight, please? I won't shoot up or nothing this time." He took another step closer to me, and I saw in his right hand a dully gleaming piece of metal.

In a moment, I noticed it as a folded up switchblade. He smiled at me, then I stepped back shaking my head. That smile drained away into a deep scowl. Bitch, I'm done asking. You're gonna come over to my place now and finish what we started. He growled, unfolding the knife and pointing it at me. Like I said before, this dude was 5'8", tops, skinny. I'm 6'3", 200 pounds, and regularly lift. Also, I had a 12-inch kitchen knife.

which I drew from my coat pocket and leveled at his throat. He looked at my knife, then back at his, smiled once more. "Bro, bro, I was just playing. We don't gotta... we can just talk right here. I don't..." "Leave me and my boyfriend alone," I said very quietly. "Or I'll cut your face off and eat it." What the f- It seemed like that part was an utterance that he didn't mean to let out. But that's when I said,

I spent eight years in juvie for stabbing a kid in middle school. Now, that was a lie. But he backed up, putting his knife back into his pocket. I took a step closer, holding my knife level. He backed away, quickly, almost falling on the ice, until he was full sprinting back to his place, and I was foe-chasing him down with my knife, until he crossed the street, and I stopped. I slid the knife back into my pocket, watched him run back into his building. Then, I calmly went back to my bedroom.

Told my boyfriend I'd just gone to pee and we both fell asleep peacefully. It seems like the quintessential thing to say here that I never saw this guy again and I hope not to. Nameless horny junkie, let's not meet again or I'll eat your face. I'm going to abstain from giving too much information because this stalker scares the absolute shit out of me. Thankfully, he doesn't understand English.

so it may not make much of a difference if he ever hears this. Years ago, I moved to follow my boyfriend and to do a PhD in his country. I won't name the place, but it's an across-the-ocean type of deal. At first, I was very excited. It was a wonderful adventure. Until... it wasn't. It's hard to describe the complexity of what I felt. I felt alone, misunderstood, far from my family and friends. And even though my boyfriend is wonderful,

I really felt the weight of not finding any other human connection. This could explain why I acted so weird and disconnected from reality in the following story. I'm also a very naive woman, and I like to see the best in people around me. This has been problematic more than a few times, but this story is maybe the worst example of where this candid attitude got me. I'm just going to say this flat out. My boyfriend and I are into BDSM. We do it alone, on our own.

and do not participate in events or anything like that. I do have an account on a known BDSM website though. I go there to find new ideas for recessions and I sometimes, although rarely, post pictures. No face, no tattoos, and I often wear wigs. I get contacted by interested doms once in a while, even though I clearly state that I'm not free. Usually they send copy-paste messages, so they're easily enough ignored.

Once in a while though, I'd get a more personal message and make an effort to answer that I'm not interested and that I'm in a relationship. This is how my discussion with Nick started. He didn't approach me with a "Will you be my sub?" but with curiosity about how I got into BDSM, stating that he was quite new to the domain and he was interested in understanding the way of life, so I gladly explained. Explanations turned into discussions.

He told me he was in the police and that he investigated drug cartels. He also told me he was married, that he had kids. Interestingly, we had a lot of hobbies in common. A lot. I won't go into details about those hobbies, but they're rather specific. Feeling lonely combined with the fact that I felt I could trust him because he was married and had kids, I accepted his invitation to start texting on WhatsApp. I want to be clear. My boyfriend knew about this from day one.

Plus, we had been talking on this website for almost three months before switching to WhatsApp. He was very friendly and interested in my day-to-day life. He'd share pictures of his kids and of investigations he was working on. This went on for another three months. Then one day, he told me he had to interview a suspect close to the town where I lived and asked if we could meet up for coffee. I agreed and we met in person for the first time, before anyone panics.

My boyfriend was off hiking with friends for a few weeks. I texted him, but he didn't have a signal. Plus, we have a very trusting relationship. He has a lot of female friends back in my country, and I hung out with a lot of guys. This isn't weird for us, but back to this first encounter. It felt as if we had known each other for years. We had a great time from the beginning, and I was so happy I had found a friend so far from my country. He knew I loved reading thrillers and enjoyed murder investigation videos.

So he showed me his gear, handcuffs, sampling kits for small investigations, other restraints, etc. It didn't feel weird at the moment, but afterwards, I kind of understood this could have been a way for him to show off what he could do. However, as the night went on, after grabbing drinks from a nearby bar, he forced me against a wall and kissed me. I was shocked, really, and barely managed to push him off of me. I told him that was inappropriate,

that he was married and that I was in a relationship. He said that he was really sorry and felt ashamed of his act. He told me he felt that there was something between us and I was like, "Yeah man, it's called friendship." I was disappointed when we parted ways. Days later, after he had apologized over and over again, he called me to meet up. He wanted to take me for a ride in his hometown. It's a pretty place. He's got a bike and he wants me to enjoy the scenery in the country that I barely know. I agree to this.

It's his hometown, he works there, he lives there with his wife and kids. Surely I'll be safe. But in short, I wasn't. Again he kissed me, tried to push for more, in the middle of a park. A park where he brought his children to play on the weekends. So that's when I told him to bring me back to the bus station so I could leave. He did without issue, then proceeded to tell me a story about how he had recently got a drug seller out of hiding by modifying text messages sent by his girlfriend.

He basically made him believe she was cheating on him to get him to confront her and then arrested him. I don't know if it's true or not. I don't know if it's possible, but due to what had just happened, what I heard was, I can make your boyfriend believe you're cheating on him. At this point, my boyfriend was still on his hike. We would chat every few days, and I told him everything from the moment he had some cell signal. Meanwhile, I was confronting Nick about that. His behavior was really strange, as he went from, I'm sorry, to,

"I think I might be in love with you," to "If you tell the cops, who do you think they'll believe? Their colleague or some immigrant?" I got scared and tried to cool things down with him. I just felt he could go crazy at any moment. He clearly wasn't used to girls refusing him. At that point, I thought it would be safer for me and my boyfriend to maintain contact with Nick, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. But after understanding how obsessed he was, I blocked him from all platforms where I knew he had an account.

But nonetheless, he found me. He sent me my address, asking if I loved living in that particular part of town. I had never given him my address. Now, I guess he could pull some strings at the station to get my info. He even came to visit me at my job. I was so scared that I just played along, as if everything was okay. I told him my boyfriend wanted me to cut ties with him because he was angry about what had happened, which was true. But I also wanted him out of my life.

I didn't know how he would react if I told him though. Nick insisted that I loved him, that I could be his mistress, that my boyfriend didn't have to know. He was obsessed with me and he didn't want to hide it anymore. He told me how he wanted to bed me, how we'd be a great couple, how we'd father our kids. He went from "I'll be husband material" to "serial predator" in a matter of seconds. I refused again and again, blocking him, changing my accounts.

I got scared when I got calls from unknown numbers. I was terrified when I saw anyone slowing down on a motorcycle close to my apartment. I was wary of going outside and even going to my job. When the COVID quarantine hit, I welcomed it. Really. And I didn't hear from Nick for months. That's when I broke my cell phone. I knew I could transfer all my numbers from one phone to another, but I didn't know it would unblock previously blocked numbers. Days later, I got a message from him.

He told me he had divorced his wife, that he still loved me, that he wanted to be with me. He apologized for making me believe I was only mistress material and that I was worth so much more. He said my boyfriend didn't love me, that I deserved better, that he was waiting for me when he saw that I saw his message. He said, "Finally! I thought you'd never unblock me." Does this mean he had been sending this message over and over again in hopes that I would finally see it?

That narcissistic man used all the manipulation tactics that he knew. He told me before we met in person how he had learned those skills to toy with criminals, to have them tell the truth and admit to crimes. Fortunately, I had dated manipulative men before and I knew the signs. Basically, he wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. He was attractive, well-off, interesting, and he knew that. I blocked him again and we moved a few months later.

and just hope that he doesn't get his hand on this information. I believe Nick's last move was trying to hack into my Instagram as I got a notification that someone from his hometown had tried to connect to my account. We're now more than a little while removed from the last time I've heard from Nick, even longer since the last time I've seen him. But part of me still wonders, when I get the cold chill down my spine, if he's out there, closer than I know, still watching as I go about my life. I hope that's not the case,

However, I wouldn't be surprised if it were.

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