True Delivery Driver Horror Stories: Real Experiences of Fear | Malevolent Mischief
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That's N-O-O-M dot com. It's Stuart here. In Leap, I've discovered flowers and flames. The new floral facet, the YSL way. It's floral, but in the hottest way, and it's both luminous. It's really such a statement. It's a real ultimate freedom sensation. So, Yves Saint Laurent. This happened last night, and after making all the necessary calls and correspondence, I'm still left wondering what it was all about.

So I, a 26 year old female, was up late and working on a project for my job. I'm the type of person that obsesses a lot over the tasks that I oversee and was deep into my assignment when I start to feel that rumble in my tummy. I look up and see that it's now 11:30 p.m. and I haven't eaten anything since lunch. I know that I'm not going to pull myself away from my work. There's no way I can at this point. So I pull up the DoorDash app on my phone and

and in a few clicks, I submit an order for Thai food from a spot that's open late and is no more than 5 miles from my front door. Perfect. After another couple of minutes, I get the alert saying that "Christina P" is picking up my food and should be arriving within 8-10 minutes. Wonderful. The Pad Thai and Satay are absolutely calling my name by now, and I'm pumped. Another few minutes pass, and my phone buzzes to let me know that my food has arrived.

and almost on cue. I hear a car door open and the gate to my residence follow it. I creep to my front door as a lot of us weirdos do, peer through the peephole and see the driver approach my front door and place the bag in front of my doormat. They raise their phone to their face to take the proof picture and that's when I notice that the Dasher does not appear to be a Christina. This is a dude. Tall and broad but a little rough looking. Five o'clock shadow, ill-fitting shirt and coat,

and a gaze that doesn't seem as if they should have been driving anywhere at all. My phone buzzes again to signify that the food has been dropped. I wait a second for this man to retreat from my front door, but he doesn't. He stands completely still now, hands in his pockets, almost like he's waiting for me to open the door. That's when I say out loud, "Thanks! You can go now," when I hear him mumble something about getting my food while it's still hot. I say, "I'll grab it once you're off my porch."

Thanks. Now, I'm not sure if this guy knew that I was talking from right on the other side of my door, peering through the peephole at him, because he doesn't leave the porch. He simply scoots his body to the side, now not directly in line with my door, almost like he's trying to hide himself. I don't say a thing now, we're just locked in some sort of weird game of delivery driver client chicken, when finally, after a minute or two of silence, he straight up approaches my door. It's locked, but he definitely tries to rattle the door handle.

This jolts me, and I think that I need to grab my phone now. It's still on the couch, so I go and snag it up before returning to the door. When I look out the peephole again, he's gone, but I'm not sure what that means exactly, because the car that he pulled up in still has its door open, and it's clearly unoccupied, as I'm quietly assessing what to do next. I hear a jostling coming from the side of my living room.

It's coming from outside, but sounds like it's right up against the main window on the side of my house. I walk over, and I'm horrified when I see this guy now standing alongside my home, attempting to lift my window. While I was calm and cool before, I'm losing my shit now. I let out a scream, one that you would think would send someone running, but all this man did was look up at me through the exposed glass and smiled this lopsided smile right back at me.

I make the dash upstairs and immediately call the police, letting them know that I have someone trying to break into my house. While I'm on the phone with dispatch, I look out my window and see that the car is still parked out on the street, only now the guy is sitting in the driver's seat and looking up at my house. He sits there for another five minutes or so, giving me plenty of time to study the car in the dark, giving the dispatcher all the info that I can about it before he pulls off into the night.

It took the cops about 30 minutes to get to my house. During that time, I'm wondering why it was taking so long. What if the guy had made it in? Did they expect me to fight him off or hide for a full episode of Friends or something? But when they finally did arrive, they let me know what the delay was. Going off the description of the vehicle, they had found a car matching it, about three blocks from my house while they were en route. The car appeared to have hit a curb, had airbags deployed, no driver at the scene.

and several cell phones scattered within the car. After searching the area to no avail, they called it in and continued to me. As I was explaining what happened on my end, the cops get a radio call saying that the car they had found had been reported stolen earlier in the night. They surmise that the phones within the car were likely stolen as well. What scares me even now is what they said next. It was likely that whoever had stolen the car and the phones

got a notification that someone wanted food to be delivered. That would be me. They opened up the DoorDash app and accepted the order from a stolen phone that belonged to someone named Christina. Seeing that it was only enough food for one person, they likely figured that I was alone and might make for an easy target for whatever they had planned. Whether it was my willingness to look through the peephole and the resulting hesitance to open the door or simply their own ineptitude in the situation,

I proved to be a more difficult target than they had originally thought, and that is no doubt what kept me safe. By the time this whole situation had cooled off, I wasn't even hungry anymore. I pretty much stayed awake solely on adrenaline, and I haven't gotten any word on if they found the guy yet. But the silver lining here is that I knocked out the rest of that work assignment in the time that I didn't spend sleeping or eating last night. While this situation is terrifying, it likely won't scare me off from using DoorDash in the future.

But the steps that I took last night will likely be commonplace for any order that I make moving forward. 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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Woman of the Hour is the stranger than fiction story of an aspiring actress in 1970s Los Angeles whose life intersects with a serial killer in the midst of a years-long murder spree when she's cast on an episode of The Dating Game. Based on a true story and directed by Academy Award nominee Anna Kendrick, watch Woman of the Hour only on Netflix October 18, rated R. I moved into my current neighborhood about four years ago.

It's a decent area with plenty of residences, a few local shops that bring a dose of fun and culture to my walks to and from work, and my apartment building itself is filled with a bunch of wonderful neighbors that I've never had any issue with whatsoever. I understand that my experience may be unique in that regard, so I'm even more grateful for that. To give you an idea, my apartment building is laid out as such, accessed from the street through a secure main entrance.

a lobby that houses mailboxes for all residents, a short side hallway that dumps people at the two elevators that serve the entire building, and a hallway the opposite direction that houses the four downstairs units of the complex. I occupy the first unit on the left of the first floor. I believe that at one time, this may have been where the landlord lived. However, I'm simply left to guess that, because there's no landlord on site now, just a property manager that stops by every so often

to make sure that the elevators are working and the outdoor plants are watered. So here's actually where the story begins. A few weeks back, I was sitting in my living room scrolling away while Hulu played in the background. It was late afternoon, but far from dark, so I was figuring out what sounded good for dinner or what to do later. When I get a buzz on my apartment's intercom, I walk over to the door, press the button, and ask, "Who is it?" when a voice on the other side says,

"Hi, this is XYZ Flowers, and I've got a delivery for you. Now, I'll be the first to acknowledge, I don't often get flowers. Certainly I don't order them for myself. But I had actually just been promoted at work and thought that maybe my folks or girlfriend or someone that I knew sent me something nice. So I hit the button to buzz them in and waited for the knock at my door to come. When it does, I swing the door open to a gentleman carrying a rather abundant flower arrangement.

I mean, the thing had to cost a couple hundred bucks at least. Tall, more than a dozen flowers poking out of this vase that itself was almost two feet tall and accompanied by a lavender-colored bow wrapped around it. I'm in the midst of my own observant stupor when the delivery man says, "Sherry?" It catches me off guard and snaps me back to reality when he repeats it again, only this time adding a little more detail. Does Sherry live here? So, I'm a guy.

I live alone, and I've never heard the name that he's saying before. So eventually, I get out. "No, nobody by that name lives here. I'm sorry man, you must have the wrong address." He takes a moment, looks at the electronic device in his off hand, before saying "Nope, this is the right address. Says right here. Are you sure that Sherry doesn't live here? I think I know who lives in my house, so politely I say again, I don't think you've got the right place."

I tell him that there's a resident directory by the front door, if he wants to take a look. Maybe that's one of my neighbors that I'm unaware of, I don't know, but obviously these aren't meant for me. He looks around my doorframe and says that this is the address and apartment that he was told to go to, and the look on his face conveys a message of "seriously man, just take the flowers so I can go." Well, okay. At this point, I'm more wrapped up in the mystery of who sent these and who they were

than the actual delivery guy himself. So I take them out of his hand as he simply turns and walks off. As I come back into my apartment, staring at this gigantic arrangement, I notice that there's a card tucked between a few of the stems. Now my intrigue is beyond piqued. I place the flowers down on the table and pull out the tiny card, pop that bad boy open, and read the words "I've been thinking about you, Sherry." Signed, XO. Okay, I'm starting to piece things together.

These flowers are probably from an admirer of this woman Sherry, and for whatever reason, the sender just had the wrong address. Which is a shame because the arrangement is beautiful. I feel bad for the poor dude that mistakenly sent me flowers. After checking the directory out, I see that there's no Sherry listed. I feel like I've done all I can do. So on my table, the flowers stay. Well, the next day, I'm leaving the building when I come across the property manager guy in front of the complex watering the plants.

I think to myself that maybe he knows if there's someone in the apartments named Sherry. If so, I still want to get her the flowers. So I walk up to him and say, I got this flower delivery yesterday, and I think they're meant for someone else. Is there someone in the building named Sherry maybe? This guy, an older gent, that I think has been in charge of the building for more than a few years now, stops watering and turns to face me. He asks if I was sure that they said Sherry.

I told him I was, because the driver said it a few times while right in front of me. That's when the color visibly drains from his face before he shakes his head and tells me something that I just wasn't at all expecting. He tells me that the previous occupant of my unit, the lady that had lived there more than five years ago, was named Sherry, a sweet woman in her forties that more or less kept to herself. No kids, no family. While she was quiet and respectful, her boyfriend was far from the same.

He was loud, brash, and seemed like he had a bit of a mean streak, at least according to other neighbors. Eventually, Sherry had had enough and managed to kick the guy out. Things got quiet, went back to peaceful for a while, but one night, when Sherry was returning home from work, she was walking up to the complex door when neighbors heard a single shot ring out. By the time that someone had ventured out, they found Sherry lying in a pool of her own blood with her keys still in her hand.

The police and an ambulance were called, but she was already gone. The cops had the boyfriend in mind from the get, but days, weeks and months went by and they were unable to locate him, with no family of her own to keep the torch lit. The case went cold and may have been pushed aside by others. After sitting vacant for a few months, I found a cute little apartment on the ground floor of a secure building and moved on in, completely unaware of what had happened to its previous inhabitant less than 50 feet from my front door.

The manager said that it could have been a mean joke by some prankster or someone looking to drum up drama. I don't know, and I suppose it could have been, but such an elaborate display probably didn't come from some rando. I can't know for certain if it came from the person we're all thinking they came from, but that's definitely what my gut is telling me, and that alone sends some major shivers down my spine. I let those flowers sit on my dining room table for maybe two days.

But every time I walked by them, the images and thoughts that they conjured up proved too much for me to handle. I don't know what they were meant to represent, but I chucked those things, vase and all, out into the dumpster without a second thought. Nothing else weird has happened since the flower delivery. I have no reason to think that anything will happen. But knowing what I know now, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel an odd sort of feeling every time I walk in or out of the main doorway.

I'm going to start this off by saying that I live right outside a fairly large city here in the Midwest United States. While I know that crime is prevalent in my city, I've never felt like I was close to being a victim of any sort. Whether that comes from having my head on a swivel, knowing what to look out for, or simply not inviting trouble my direction, I don't know. But I'm glad to be in the position that I'm in. Plus, as a guy in his mid-thirties that has a little heft to him, I don't think I look like the most appealing target.

This helps me in my profession as an overnight security guard, no doubt, as I come into contact with a lot of people, though nobody has ever tried me before. Well, as anyone who works nights can tell you, my circadian rhythm is all kinds of messed up. When I get off work, I tend to only sleep for a few hours at a time before my body says it's time to get up and do stuff as the sun rises. That being said, I try to combat this by taking naps wherever possible. This story

happened one afternoon just as I was waking up from a nap and starting to get ready for work. I was still shaking off the cobwebs, when as I walked from my bedroom to my bathroom, I thought I might have made it up at first. But as I'm finishing my leak, I hear a knock coming from my front door. It wasn't a pounding or a banging, but actually a sort of light tap. That's probably what contributed to my feeling that I had imagined it at first. I pull out my phone as I stand in my hallway and tap on my doorbell app.

The video feed appears and I see a young man in front of my house and he's holding a box. It's actually a pizza box. I'm quite familiar with those. So that was easy to identify. But what I couldn't identify was why this kid was at my door with one. I obviously didn't order any pizza while sleeping, so I was a bit confused to begin with. I use the app to speak to him and say, "Hey, can I help you?" I'm thinking that hearing the voice coming from my doorbell may have caught him off guard.

because it took him a second of looking around to realize there was no one at the door or out there with him. Before he stammers out, "Oh yeah, I've got your pizza here. Will you come sign your receipt?" I tell him point blank that I didn't order a pizza and then it may have been one of the adjoining houses that did. He says, "No, it's supposed to come here. Maybe your wife ordered it? Now, I'm not married, so I know that's not the case." I tell him that that's not possible.

and that he's got the wrong spot. That's when he says, "Visibly frustrated now. It's already paid for. Will you just come and get your pizza so I can go?" Now, I don't exactly appreciate the attitude, and I'm not going to do anything to make things easier on this guy now, but as I'm silently looking at the feed on my phone, something pops out that I hadn't noticed up until that point. The kid isn't wearing anything that would identify him as a delivery driver. There's no shirt or hat with his employer on it. I can't see a car with the company sign on it. Nothing.

So now, I have all the little bells going off. I ask him if he can read the name of who made the order, when instead of saying a name or even saying that he's not allowed to, he says, "It's on the receipt. You can see it when you open the door." Before taking his non-pizza holding hand and slamming it against the door three times. He then looks over his shoulder, almost as if to make sure that no one has seen or heard him fly off the handle. At this point, this whole thing is smelling fishy.

So, I say one final time, "I didn't order any pizza. I need you to leave my property now." And this sends him into a rage. He drops the pizza, turns around, and begins donkey kicking my door. I've had just about enough. I walk back into my bedroom, head to my closet, and grab my home defense shotgun from my lockbox. As I'm walking back towards my front door, I can hear the kicks getting louder and louder as I approach.

I'm now about 3 feet from my entryway, when in between kicks, I take that opportunity to rack around in the chamber. For those of you that have firearms, you know that can be a loud and sobering noise to hear. Apparently, that young man felt the same way. The kicks immediately stop and I don't hear anything further. I stand in my living room for a few minutes, just to hear if that was actually the end of it all. When I don't hear any more movement, I look out my peephole to see nothing but air outside.

I open the door, and my eyes are drawn to the pizza box on my doorstep. But that's all it was. A box. No saucy bread and toppings inside. It's at this point that I take a step back inside and bring my phone back to my face. I play back my doorbell footage right at the moment that I rack a shell. I can hear it play back in the audio, and I can see it on the guy's face that he knew exactly what that sound was as he takes off running. What I wasn't expecting, though, was to see three other people

take off running with him. They had been hidden behind my courtyard wall that my doorbell wouldn't have been able to see, but they all bolted in the same direction, no doubt telling me that they were all together. That's when it clicks. This was a potential home invasion, given all the earmarks. It seems like it was a setup to get someone, I don't even know if it was me specifically, to open their door unwittingly before storming them, outnumbering them, and gaining full access to everything inside the house.

It was something that I'd heard about, seen on TV, but had never expected to land at my front door. That being said, I'm glad to know that even off only a few hours of sleep, even flying mainly on autopilot, I had the sense to not be lured out, not get caught in the trap of free pizza, and ultimately not land myself in any real danger. I encourage everyone out there that before you open that door, to always be sure you know who and what awaits you outside.

One momentary slip of judgement could be all it takes to let the bad guys win.