ATRD Ep. 131 - Crazy Ex, Road trip and Creepy Coworker Stories - 11 True Scary Stories
01:39:59 Share

Ryan Reynolds here for, I guess, my 100th Mint commercial. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I mean, honestly, when I started this, I thought I'd only have to do like four of these. I mean, it's unlimited premium wireless for $15 a month. How are there still people paying two or three times that much? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be victim blaming here. Give it a try at mintmobile.com slash save whenever you're ready. For

$45 upfront payment equivalent to $15 per month. New customers on first three-month plan only. Taxes and fees extra. Speeds lower above 40 gigabytes. See details.

The land down under has never been easier to reach. United Airlines has more flights between the U.S. and Australia than any other U.S. airline, so you can fly nonstop to destinations like Sydney, Melbourne, and Brisbane. Explore dazzling cities, savor the very best of Aussie cuisine, and get up close and personal with the wildlife. Who doesn't want to hold a koala? Go to united.com slash Australia to book your adventure.

If you have a story you would like to hear featured on this podcast, please go to astheravendreams.com and click the button to submit your story. Also, if the platform you're listening on has the option to rate this podcast, please consider doing so. And thank you. Alright, so I have a story about a crazy ex that did a lot to try and ruin my life and drive me insane. And I would say he damn near succeeded.

There was a point during all this where I thought that he was going to escalate to physically harming, or worse, possibly killing me because he was clearly crazy. The worst part of all this is that he didn't come back with a vengeance until nearly seven years after we broke up. I know that's a strong start, but it's important to not understate how messed up this man was. I guess I should start by mentioning the ex himself, Peter.

Peter and I were together in our last two years of high school, and a year after that. So between the ages of 17 and 19. After those three years, we grew apart, which happens in young relationships. He had an idea for what he wanted to do, I had different ideas, and even though we both wanted the other to be in our future, it just wasn't going to work out.

I don't remember who started the breakup process, but we ended up just splitting up, and that was that. Well, it wasn't the end of it all, obviously, but at the time, I thought that it was. Fast forward seven years, so at the time of the story, I was 26, when out of nowhere, I got a friend request from someone on Facebook. Lo and behold, it was Peter, the same Peter that I was madly in love with as a teenager.

It was kind of nice to see his name. A bit nostalgic, but nothing more for me as at this time I was seeing someone. I hit accept and sent him a quick message. It was literally just "Hey Peter, nice to see you. I hope you're doing well. We should catch up sometime." Nothing outside of an ordinary message that you would send to an old friend that you hadn't seen or heard from for a while.

Then I went to work and forgot about it, because it really wasn't that important to me. Later that day, I checked Facebook again and saw that he had replied. He said hi to me and then said that he would love to catch up, and told me he would be at a coffee shop that evening at around 5 or so, if I wanted to swing by and talk for a bit. It was a bit direct and sudden, like he was going to be there expecting me, so I was a bit hesitant...

But I figured I would go and say hi. I had mentioned it to my boyfriend, and I was very honest with him, telling him that it was my ex from high school and that he wanted to meet up. I actually asked him to come along, basically saying that I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything extra in this situation. I didn't think Peter would do anything odd, but I also wanted to be transparent with my current boyfriend.

So, we drove to the coffee shop together, and at first I looked around at the shop to see if Peter was there, but I didn't see him. Well, not until he went to order and he came out from the back and walked up to the register. This made a bit more sense as to why he told me he would be there without asking to meet me there. He was a barista at the shop. When he saw me, he put on a huge smile, and then he saw the guy that I was with,

and it very quickly fell to a slight grin. There was some very small talk, and after putting our order in, he said that he would come out so we could chat in a couple of minutes. I said okay, and me and my current went and sat down at a table. A few moments later, he came out and sat down with us, and we did catch up. I introduced him to my boyfriend, told him how we met, and then we chatted a slight bit about the time that had passed.

and it was nice. I thought that it was just a bit of catching up, and while he seemed a bit upset that I had a current boyfriend, I think he took the hint that I just wanted him to be a friend. During this conversation, he ended up asking me where I was living, and I made a mistake telling him that I had a townhome in a small community a few miles north. I didn't tell him which unit, but I did mention the property name.

mostly because he asked me for it, because he said he was looking for a new place. We talked for 15 minutes or so, and then he had to get back to work, and again, that was that. So, all of this context out of the way, here's where things went south. It was small at first. One day when I had gotten home from work, and when I pulled up, I noticed that my flowerpots that had been sitting on my front step were missing.

I was definitely confused about that because they were all approved by the property. I checked. I had made sure that it wasn't an issue, and my neighbors didn't mind me having them. The units didn't share front steps, and they were far enough to not be in the way of anyone on the walking path. I actually asked my next door neighbor if she had seen anything or knew what happened, and she was as clueless as I was.

The office also didn't have anything to do with it, so it was definitely weird, but I had to chalk it up to just some jerk stealing my plants or some kids being idiots. There were a few more small things that happened. I guess they were pranks, but they were petty and just annoying more than anything. One day when I got home, I found that my front doorknob had been spray-painted.

As in someone took red spray paint and literally just blasted my doorknob and door really quick. Enough to cover part of it and a small paint spot on the door. This sucked. Because I had to report it to the office and they were not too happy about it. Then I found out that someone had smashed eggs on the back sliding door, which was a pain to clean up. There was sugar poured all over my back step.

and around the back area which led to a really ugly ant problem. It was just small BS like this. Pranks that were annoyances and had me thinking that one of my neighbors had it out for me for whatever reason. But then it escalated. The first thing that happened that made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable was when I got home and went to my bedroom. I found my personal laptop sitting on my bed and open.

I knew for a fact that I hadn't left it there because I don't use my laptop in bed. It sits on my little corner desk that I have in the room. I was a bit panicky, but I grabbed it and moved it back to the desk and woke it up. There were two windows open. The first was my Facebook. It was on my wall and I could see that there were several posts on my account that I hadn't made.

including a few posts with pictures of my two credit cards that I left at home, and posts with me, I guess, calling myself a few unsultry names. The other window was a note with a notepad that said, I'm not done yet. I was terrified. I called my boyfriend and asked him to come over and immediately called the office, informing them that someone had broken into my unit.

I had to explain what I'd found, and they told me to contact the police as well, which I did. Obviously, they couldn't do much, as they didn't see any signs of a break-in. They took the information that I gave them, explaining the laptop and other things that had been done to my unit. They agreed that it seemed like somebody was messing with me, told me to call them if anything happened, and suggested that I do the obvious. Protect myself, get cameras, etc.,

I didn't really have time to heed their suggestions, as the next event that happened was the worst. I had once again come home from work, horrified that I was going to find something else to show that someone was going to do something to me, and it got worse when I was... correct. I walked into my home, and I immediately smelled something that was, simply put, absolutely disgusting, near vomit-inducing levels of gross.

Part of me just knew that it was coming from my bedroom. It was near instinctual, and when I walked into my room, I was mortified. There was a dark red, disgusting liquid that had been splashed all over my room. The walls, the carpet, my bed, the door. Literally everywhere. I quickly learned what this substance was because there were containers sitting all over the room that were labeled, ''Beef Blood.''

I wanted to puke. I went through the same process of calling my boyfriend, the office, and the cops, and it was such a terrifying situation. I think the police took this one a bit more serious because it was escalating, and this person was clearly unhinged, and they figured he was likely going to get violent. Then, I hit an actual moment of luck.

While the police were there and investigating things, and I was talking to the property manager, my neighbor had come home from her day at work. Obviously, she asked what happened, and I told her, and when I mentioned it, she kind of lit up. She told me to hold on, and then told the police that she may be able to help. She ran inside and then came back out with the tablets, looking eager.

Apparently after the last incident she had gotten a bit concerned with our security and she went and bought a small camera to put up in the back, one that covered her back patio and was able to see my back door as well. She scrolled through the day and then found a time, about an hour after I went to work, where there was motion in the back. And right there, on the screen, was video evidence that my ex, Peter, had broken into my home.

He walked up from her side, there weren't any fences or anything, it was just wide open, and he was carrying a tote bag, which I assumed had the blood containers in it. I watched as he grabbed my sliding door, lifted slightly, and shoved it open, which is actually the exact moment that I learned that the lock on my sliding door didn't quite catch like it was supposed to. Apparently that unit had a faulty door.

which Peter figured out at some point in time. I'm assuming he was looking to escalate and trying to break in, and stumbled upon the faulty lock. The image was clear. It was 100% obvious who it was and what he was doing. I told the officers who it was, and I told them that I knew where he worked, and about how we had caught up a few weeks prior. That video footage was enough to close this whole case. It was clear who it was.

It was clear what he had done, and he was subsequently arrested for it. He actually pleaded guilty to the whole thing, almost like he was proud of it. He wasn't charged with much though, mostly the breaking and entering and vandalism, and the destruction of property. Thankfully, for me, not him. What he damaged had a high cost of replacement, so he was hit pretty heavily at the end.

I don't remember exactly how much time he ended up getting, I think it was a year or two, and this was a few years back at this point, so he has since gotten out. But I don't think he stuck around because I haven't seen him, and I hope to god that I never do again. It was late July, and my girlfriend, Teresa, and I were taking a road trip to see some friends on the west coast.

They were getting married and with the amount of stuff Teresa was going to need to take, it was ultimately going to be cheaper to just drive. So we made our own little road trip out of it. We were both pretty excited about it and hardly slept the night before. We hadn't been able to go on vacation for a few years, so we were ready for some much needed time away.

Because of this, we actually got up pretty early, packed up the car, and went and had breakfast before heading out. As we got further north, the surroundings became more rural and isolated. We were driving on a road surrounded by towering trees and winding areas. It was gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but it was also eerie. The trees made us look so small and insignificant, not to mention the lack of reception on these roads because of it.

Still, the experience was worth it. By the amount of pictures Teresa took, I could tell that she enjoyed it too. The only issue I had was that I was going to need to stop for gas soon. I wasn't expecting to drive through the trees to be that long, otherwise I would have stopped beforehand. Thankfully, it did seem that the state knew this was a long stretch, and we spotted a sign for gas and food coming up.

So we continued on, knowing we had a planned stop and we would be in good hands. As we approached where the gas station was supposed to be, we had nearly passed it because of how run down it looked. There was a small building with the siding or whatever it was peeling away from the wall. From the small window in the front of the building, it looked dark in there like it wasn't even open.

The single pump itself looked ancient, like something straight out of a 1950s movie, complete with a rusty sign and analog numbers on the pump. At first I was concerned that it wouldn't even work, but as I approached it, it had signs of having been recently used. However, the handle seemed to be locked behind some kind of chain and key lock. I looked around, wondering if maybe some kind of attendant had to pump the gas.

I wasn't familiar with the area, so I didn't know if that was a thing at the time. After Teresa and I looked around from our car and contemplated if we could make it to another gas station, we heard a gravelly voice say, "Needing gas?" We looked up and saw a man standing next to the building, as if he had just come around from the back or side of the building.

He was wearing some very dirty jeans, they had dark patches of dirt all over them, as well as his once-white t-shirt. It had spots of dark brown to gold stains on it. In this area, I assumed that he may have been working on some kind of vehicle or similar behind the building. There was nothing weird about it, and it wouldn't surprise me either, so I didn't think anything else of it at the time.

I confirmed that we were, and he approached us, wiping his hands on his pants. Getting a better look at him, I'd say he was probably in his late 40s. I watched him as he pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the pump. He then motioned for me to grab the pump, and I looked at him confused at first. If it was locked up, I assumed that customers couldn't pump it themselves. Right? Not that I had a problem doing it, though.

He then looked at me and said, "You're a big boy. You can do it yourself, can't you?" I laughed it off and agreed, grabbing the pump to fill up. As it filled, the guy started to make some small talk. It seemed pretty normal at first, asking us where we were coming from and where we were headed. I started telling him about our road trip and started talking about the trees that we were driving through that brought us to where we were currently.

You know how when you're talking to someone and you can tell they're not really paying attention to the conversation? Yeah, that was the vibe that I was getting from this guy. Once I realized it, I started being more vague and short in my responses. This also gave me time to look over at Teresa, when I noticed that she seemed to be looking around nervously. I pushed my arm closer to hers to get her attention, but again, I could tell something was wrong.

Then the guy asked if there was anyone expecting us where we were going. I thought this was a really strange question. It wasn't asking us why we were going to Portland or what we were going to do there, but instead, if someone was expecting us, or if they knew where we were.

It actually kind of kicked me into fight or flight mode and I told him, yes, that we were actually going to be in a wedding and that we just got off the phone with someone before we were stopping for gas. I wanted him to know that not only were people expecting us, but they also knew where we were. He looked at me dead in the eyes for several seconds like he was testing me, testing if I was lying.

He then smiled and took over the gas pump, pulling it out and putting it back on the stand, locking it. Within that time, I squeezed Teresa's hand and smiled at her, trying to calm her down. By the way she was biting her lip and looking around, I could tell that something was bothering her. I motioned for her to go ahead and get back in the car, and she did not hesitate. After she was in, the man turned around and looked at me again.

I started to thank him, when he just nodded and then said something that has never sat right with me. "You got lucky. This place is usually closed, and people go to the little gas and diner about a mile outside of this place. They usually avoid places like this."

It may not have been verbatim because it's been a few years, but basically, I took that as "We shouldn't have been there. We shouldn't have stopped. And you're going to say that you stopped at that diner instead." I just nodded at him and said, "Yeah, we're gonna go there and get some food and gas." He smiled and said that that was a good idea and started walking back towards the building.

I got in the driver's seat and looked over at him once more and again saw him walking around the back instead of into the building, which was still dark. I started the car, but I apparently could not leave fast enough for Teresa's comfort. We drove away in silence for a few minutes until I asked Teresa what was wrong. She asked me if I saw it too, and I didn't know to what she was referring. She said that she could see further back into the field next to the building.

What she saw was a pile of dirt and a black trash bag sitting next to it. And with how dirty the man looked, it started making her freak out. The thing is, her non-verbals really show. I did not see the dirt pile nor the bag as I was keeping the man in my sight, but I was now worried that maybe he was doing something he shouldn't have been. Maybe that's why he was questioning where we were going and who was expecting us.

Teresa knows when I'm BSing her too, so there was no way I could lie or play that off as no big deal. So I just told her that it was definitely weird, but that we got out of there okay and we didn't have to worry about it anymore. She started to calm down, but then contemplated if we should tell someone. My initial thought was, who?

Were we supposed to find a police station and tell them that the guy that let us get gas may have been burying something suspicious? Would they believe some outsiders, and would they even care? Hell, could they be in on it? As a child, up until I was 17 and moved in with friends, I was living in a very dangerous neighborhood with my mom.

I knew when to keep my mouth shut, so I hate to say it, but going to authorities was not the first thing on my mind. My thoughts were just to get the hell out of there and never look back. We kept driving, and just as the man told us, a mile or two out of the trees, there was another gas station with an attached diner.

I contemplated stopping, thinking maybe it was best as proof that we went there, but then I worried that maybe the guy could have had someone waiting there for us. Maybe that was the real reason for telling us to go there. Since we had a full tank, I decided to risk it and we drove right past it. If we stopped again, it was going to be in a heavily populated city.

Shortly after passing that gas station, the road turned into a highway, I assume because the speed jumped up to 65 miles per hour. But even as we sped up, there was a van that was quickly catching up to us. It was a dark green van and the driver looked to be a large man, wearing a hat and sunglasses. I remember this vividly because of how fast he caught up with us. I thought he was going to hit us.

but once he did catch up, he just stayed behind us, riding our tail. I thought I would slow down, thinking that he would just pass us, but as I slowed, so did he. Teresa noticed this too, and once again started worrying. She asked me if it was the guy from the gas station, and I could at least confirm that it wasn't the same guy, but I couldn't confirm her second suspicion, which was if it was someone following us for that gas station guy.

I tried to calm her down as we kept driving for several miles, with this car behind us. Finally, we came across a larger city. The signs for food, gas, and hotels were full, so we knew that it had to be a big place. I pulled off the road, and so did the car behind us. I stopped at the first hotel, but we waited in our car as the van pulled in behind us and stopped. Unlike the windshield, the windows were a very dark tint.

I couldn't see anything, what they were doing, looking at, nothing. I told Teresa to lay her seat back as if she was going to sleep, and I did the same. I explained why, and after a few minutes, I heard the van drive off. Once it was completely out of sight, I pulled my seat back up, started the car, and drove off. I was not going to be stopping at the hotel that they had stopped at, too.

We chose another hotel, one that was on the high end and had visible cameras in the parking lot. We brought anything of value in the room with us, and even ordered room service to avoid having to leave. Yes, I was just as worried as Teresa at that point. After some food, a hot shower, and a good night's rest, we were feeling a lot better. We both agreed that it was weird, but that we were safe.

There was no reason for someone to follow us, especially if we didn't do, see, or say anything, so we continued our trip as normal. It also helped that we didn't have any other weird incidents on our drive, and that we refused to stop at any little hole-in-the-wall places. The wedding went great, and on our drive back, we avoided the highway through those trees.

It added a little bit of time to the trip, but it was worth it for that peace of mind. Thankfully, the incident didn't last long, even though it felt like forever. But in that moment, it was pretty terrifying. The thought that we were being followed was unreal, but I'm thankful that we remained calm and level-headed, and that it didn't escalate any further. I don't mean to start this story dramatically,

But there is something universally unsettling about realizing a person you work with every day may have a darker side. My story centers around a man that I used to work with, whom I'm going to refer to as Marcus. That's not his name. In fact, I'm not using any real names in this story for several reasons. Marcus was my boss. He was a diligent man, albeit slightly eccentric.

He worked as a head librarian above myself and a few other people in my hometown. And the whole time that I knew him, I honestly respected him and thought that he was a decent guy. I'm not a good judge of character, apparently. This whole thing started in my third month of working at the library. I was still getting used to their stack system and how the library was formatted. The whole thing was kind of confusing, but I was getting there.

My favorite part of working at the library was working with the kids that used it to do schoolwork and research. I guess I should add that this was the early 2000s, so before everyone and their brother had a smartphone and unfettered internet access. So when kids would come in to look for information on fossils or history projects, I loved helping them.

At the time, I was considering becoming a teacher, but just hadn't yet gone through the schooling, so this was a good experience. On that morning, Marcus was having me help him reorganize the archive section of the library, which was the small room in the very back of the library. It was its own separate room with a door near the rear exit.

This was where old newspapers and periodicals were kept, if there are people out there that don't know the purpose of the archives. As we worked, Marcus and I were just chatting it up, and we somehow got on the topic of children. I think it's because I had mentioned wanting to be a teacher, and said that I loved working with kids. While I was talking about it, Marcus seemed kind of uncomfortable about the whole conversation.

I could see his face, and without a better description, he looked like he had to go to the bathroom but was holding it in. I asked him if he was okay, and he laughed and said that he was. I said that he was looking a bit pale, and he mentioned that his stomach was hurting and he excused himself. I told him that I wouldn't go anywhere and just figured something was physically wrong with him.

Now, there may be some red flags going up here, but at the time it was just weird behavior by someone I had worked with for three months. Odd, but nothing more than that. It wasn't until a couple of weeks later where things really happened. I had completely forgotten about that day. It was practically a non-event. It was a pretty normal day, really. Nothing was going on, and there were only a few kids in the library.

Once again, Marcus and I were doing a bit more of the reorganization of the archives, which was a small project that we had been working on here and there. It wasn't really a critical project for us. While we were fixing things up, a girl walked into the room with a notebook in her arms. She looked to be around 11 years old or so.

I had seen her in the library before a few times, so I wasn't surprised to see her, minus the strangeness of a kid being in the archive section. When she walked in, Marcus stopped doing what he was doing and walked over to her, asking if she needed help with something. The way they talked, it seemed like he knew her and she knew him. She was comfortable enough to talk to him about a project that she was working on for school. I actually remember the project, too.

She was supposed to look up newspaper articles for her birthday from 20 years before she was born, and write up anything that happened that day in that year. It seemed like a pretty neat project, just to get kids associated with researching historical events and whatnot. She told Marcus what she needed to do, and I mentioned that I could help her while he did the reorg, if he wanted. But when I said that, I saw his face drop.

almost like he was disappointed that I had said that. He then mentioned that he would help her, and walked over to one of the cabinets. After a few moments of them looking and me doing what I was doing, Marcus hollered over to me and asked me if I could go to the front to see if the front desk needed help with putting stuff away.

It was a bit of an odd ask. They were well-staffed, and I didn't see any reason for me to do it, but he was my boss. And I just said, alright, and that I would be right back in a few moments. Again, at the time, it seemed like no big deal, but looking back, it was a strange thing for him to ask me to do at that exact moment. I went up to the front and talked to the clerk, asking if they had anything they needed help with.

The two people up there kind of glanced around like they were seeing if there was any extra work, but they said that they had things under control. I said okay and decided to stop at the restroom really quick before going back, figuring I would take the moment to myself since he had sent me to the front. After I finished up there, I went back to the archive room to let Marcus know that they were all good up front, but when I got to the archive room, it was empty.

No Marcus, no girl. The table in the center of the room still had her notebooks on it, with one of the older newspaper scans sitting on the table as well. For literally no reason, I immediately had a really bad feeling about this. I had no reason to suspect Marcus of doing anything, but my gut was telling me that he had. I stepped out of the archive room, and immediately, it got worse.

The back door to the library has a bit of an issue with sticking. If you didn't push or pull it all the way shut, it wouldn't close. And I saw that the back door was cracked open, like it had been used and not shut properly. I pushed it open and looked out into the parking lot, just in time to see Marcus back out of his spot and pull out of the parking lot.

Worse yet, I could see the girl he was talking to sitting in his back seat, looking scared and confused. I immediately ran back into the library and to the front desk, yelling that they needed to call 911 and that Marcus had just kidnapped a child.

They both looked at me like I was insane, but I told them that there was a girl in the archives room before he sent me to the front earlier, and that I had just seen him pull away with her in his back seat. The older of the two librarians said that there was probably some sort of logical explanation, but the other one, a girl about my age, understood the gravity of the situation.

She grabbed the phone and called 911, handing it to me and then saying that she was going to go check the security camera to see if she could see it happening. I explained to the dispatcher what had happened, telling her that my boss, Marcus, had potentially just kidnapped a young girl from the library, and that I saw him drive away with her in his car, and that she looked scared.

I described his car, color, make and model, and told them what I recalled of his license plate, which was just the first three numbers. They said that they would send the police there immediately and to lock the library down if possible. I'm sure that was just standard procedure, just in case, but they asked us to not let anyone else in, and to ask others to stay in the building.

The cops showed up and asked me to talk with them about the situation, and mentioned that they had several officers on the lookout for his car in town, and that they would find him. I explained the whole thing to them as I knew it, and the other librarian showed them the footage, which was when I first saw it too. There, on grainy early 2000 security footage...

Was Marcus holding this girl's hand and leading her out of the room? And out the back door? Only a couple of moments before I returned. This was obvious confirmation that he had kidnapped this girl, and that was likely why he had sent me away. He needed the opportunity. To wrap this story up, because I know it's gone on for a while, the Bolo was successful, and they found his car.

He was driving on the outskirts of town towards a highway, and they were able to get him stopped in a somewhat forceful manner. The girl was unharmed, but was obviously very scared and very confused as to what was happening. He said that he was taking her home, but she told the officers that he said he was going to help her with her school project. She said that he had told her that what she was looking for was in a box in his car, and

and then that he had shoved her in the back seat and took off as I walked out and saw it happen. He was arrested, and her parents were called to the library, which was another unfortunate part of the story. Her parents had dropped her off and said they would be back later, so she was there alone.

This wasn't an uncommon thing, though. A lot of parents used to drop their kids off while they went to work, basically using the library as a free babysitter because it was "safe enough." That stopped pretty much immediately, and the library implemented a rule that all children under 16 had to have an adult with them, because of this event.

I don't have any proof of this, but I did hear rumors that the police went through Marcus' apartment, and they found some rather disgusting things on his computer hard drive. Things I won't explain here, which tells me that he had very ill intent with that girl. In the end, I'm glad that she was unharmed because God only knows what could have happened to her had he not been stopped.

Isn't the point of traveling to get away from it all, to feel the best you've ever felt? Then maybe you should check out Aruba. You'll spend your time relaxing on cool, white, sandy beaches and floating in healing blue water. You'll meet locals brimming with gratitude for an island that redefines what a paradise can be. When your trip comes to an end, you won't need another vacation because you just had the vacation. That's the Aruba effect. Plan your trip at aruba.com.

This was a summer a few years ago, where I used to work the night shift at a small burger place. It wasn't a big-name place like Burger King or McDonald's. It was a small, locally-owned little shack kind of place. The kind that used to be all over, but are pretty much just retro bait at this point. It was just off the highway near my hometown, and it was kind of a cute little place.

The crew was mostly just a bunch of high school and early college students that were looking to make some extra cash. Most of them were totally fine, but there were a couple that were a bit off. One in particular was this guy that worked there named Dave. Dave was in his late 20s or early 30s, was skinny, pale, and he had stringy hair that was cut in a bowl cut.

He also had pretty clear issues with hygiene, and as much as I don't like to comment on people like that, his issues were very outwardly visible. His uniform was typically pretty stained, like he didn't wash it, and he definitely smelled bad. The other co-workers tended to avoid him, and I genuinely felt kind of bad for him because of this, but it was difficult to stay near him too long in the back.

Dave was also pretty quiet. Sometimes too quiet. He would just shuffle around the back and do what he was told to do by the managers while mumbling to himself. I thought that maybe he was at least somewhat self-aware and he did realize that people didn't really spend time around him, so he was self-contained, if that makes sense. After a few weeks though, I realized Dave's problems went beyond being an anti-social guy that smelled funny.

I started catching him staring at me. Like, a lot. I wasn't a fan of that, but it was when I caught him staring at some of the other girls, specifically the two girls that worked there that had just turned 16, his stares didn't seem flirty, really. They looked predatory. Like a stray dog staring at a pile of meat. That kind of creepy stare.

There was one time when I caught him watching one girl, Michelle, who again had literally just turned 16 a couple weeks prior. She was having to bend down to get something from a low shelf, and he was damn near panting while watching her. He was wide-eyed, licking his chapped lips, and transfixed on her.

For a few moments, I just kind of stood there like, does he not realize that I'm standing right beside him while he acts like this? But then he started to, I guess the correct word is grind, against one of the prep tables slightly. As soon as I saw that, I had to step in. I walked up behind him towards Michelle and told him that he needed to knock off being such a damn creep.

I then grabbed Michelle and took her into the back room, and explained to her that she needed to talk to the manager about putting her anywhere that he could, away from Dave. I then told her what I saw, and she was seriously creeped out. I said that I would go with her to talk to the managers about it, but she said that she would be okay, that she would talk to the manager as soon as she could, and I told her that she could tell him to talk to me about it if she wanted."

A couple of days later, I was taking the trash out, and I heard some rustling from behind the dumpster. I pulled open the gate, and there was Dave, crouched on the ground in the back corner, and eating a handful of french fries straight from a garbage bag. That's not an exaggeration. He was grabbing a fistful of fries from a bag that he had torn open, and he was eating them.

I just stopped dead in my tracks and stared at him like, "What the hell is wrong with you?" He sort of laughed about it and just said, "Man, people are so wasteful, huh?" I nodded, tossed my trash bag into the dumpster and just turned to walk away because I really didn't know how to process that situation. I ended up telling the manager about this because it was... messed up. I knew for a fact that he wasn't homeless, and I knew he had a job.

One where we could literally get free food. Why the hell was he crouching behind the dumpster and eating trash-covered french fries? The whole situation completely unfurled about two or so weeks after this. Yes, he was still employed there after being a creep to a teenager, and after eating dumpster fries. At the diner, we all had our own small lockers. They weren't much, but it was a nice touch for the employees.

We could store our belongings in a locked box, so we knew they were closed and secured. Usually, there weren't any problems with the lockers. We all had our own with our first names on them. We kept our purses or non-work clothes in them, and that was that. On this particular day, I had come in for my shift, and when I went to my locker, I noticed that something smelled rank. There was the smell of something rotting coming from the wall with the lockers.

I didn't even put my stuff in mine, I went to the manager and told him that it smelled like something had died in one of the lockers. He followed me over to the wall, and when he finally smelled it, he nearly gagged. It was awful. Thankfully, we weren't busy yet, it was about an hour before the dinner rush, so he was able to call all the present employees over to ask them to unlock their lockers to see if there was something in them.

At about the same time that we ruled out all the current employees that were there, Dave walked in the back door. The manager asked him to open his, so he could see if there was a dead mouse or rat or something in it, because that's what we were all starting to think. A dead rodent had gotten in them. Dave says, sure, walks over like nothing is happening, and opens his locker, and we figured out what the smell was.

His locker was full of hamburgers, most of them half-eaten, some of them looking like they'd been chewed up and spit back out into the paper. I nearly puked when I saw this all. I don't know if anyone that will hear this knows what several weeks old, cooked and then set in a locker ground beef looks or smells like, but it was disgusting. The manager looked as appalled as the rest of us, like he had no idea what to do here.

He ended up telling Dave to clean his locker out and to meet him in his office when he was done. Dave just shrugged and did what he was told, and afterwards, he left like there was literally nothing happening. He was obviously let go. The manager said that when he asked about the food in the locker, he said that he kept them in the locker in case he wanted them later.

And when he asked how old the burgers in there were, he said that the oldest one was around 18 days old. More than two weeks. I have no idea how the smell hadn't permeated prior. Maybe it was just a thing with it all compounding, but it was terrible. I have no idea what was wrong with Dave, but he was just weird. Creepy, even.

If it was just something that was wrong mentally with him, with the food, then maybe it could have been worked through. But the fact that he was willing to perv out toward a 16-year-old girl, it wasn't even worth trying with him, in my opinion. I think he was just abnormal. Maybe that's the best way to put it. I don't work there anymore, obviously, and I never saw Dave after that.

I have no idea what happened to him, and in the end, I don't know that I care enough to even think about it beyond retelling this story. Hello. My name is Amber. I will not be using my last name or some other people's last names in this story for privacy reasons. In 1966, when I was only 20 years old, I worked as a hostess for a Florida nightclub. The Florida nightclub, which shall remain nameless, was beautiful.

but it was notorious as well because it was owned by a Florida mob boss, Santo Trafficante Jr., who was Florida's mob boss from 1954 to 1987. Trafficante Jr. was a powerful mob boss. He not only controlled Florida with an iron hand, but controlled organized crime in Cuba as well. Santo Trafficante Jr. had ties with the Bonanno crime family in New York,

but closer ties with the mob boss Carlos Marcelo of New Orleans and Sam Giancana of Chicago. Santo was allies with corrupt Cuban leader Batista and was anti-Castro when Fidel Castro took over Cuba and threw the mobsters out in 1959. Santo Trafficante Jr., Sam Giancana, and Carlos Marcelo were all alleged to plotting the death of President John Kennedy.

Because the president had his brother, Bobby, go after the mob very hard through all his mob hearings that sent many mobsters to prison. The Florida nightclub I was working had many mob people along with regular customers coming in and out. The nightclub had strippers, along with comedy and ventriloquist acts. I was good friends with one particular stripper named Bunny. Bunny was a total knockout.

A drop-dead gorgeous lady with a big mane of long golden blonde hair. She had a large chest and a curvaceous figure, and was nicknamed "Boom Boom" because of her chest going boom boom whenever she walked. Many of the male customers at this Florida nightclub loved Bunny, but dared not touch because she was Frankie's girl. I even marveled at Bunny's physique along with some of the other ladies as well, not just men.

Bunny always dressed nicely in body-hugging miniskirts and sandal high-heeled shoes on her feet that showed off her fantastic body even more. She looked smashing. Bunny's boyfriend, Frankie, was nicknamed Diesel because he loved motorcycles and cars and liked to work on them. He also loved to lift weights. Diesel was dangerous-looking but good-looking at the same time.

Diesel was a muscular young man with neatly cut brown hair, and like Bunny, he liked to dress nicely. He wore suits, or could be more casual in a short-sleeved top with blue jeans. Diesel was a mob associate of Santo Traficante Jr., and made a lot of money through many of Traficante Jr.'s illegal activities. He often joined his boss, Santo, in Cuba as well. Bunny and Diesel made a very attractive-looking couple.

But they did argue over money a lot. Diesel also beat up Bunny from time to time, and cheated on her as well with other lovely ladies around town. I personally never really liked Diesel that much. Diesel may have been good looking, but he was a beast. In Santo Traficante's nightclub, there were many secret passageways. I've seen a few myself.

One led to his office in the back, and one led to a huge and opulent-looking basement where big parties took place. I was at some of these parties. In one big party, I personally saw my friend Bunny pop totally nude out of a huge birthday cake, smiling for Santo's birthday party.

Plus, once on Halloween, I saw one person dressed in a full white rabbit costume from Alice in Wonderland with a big red heart in front of his chest, wearing a black top hat that had a circular watch in the middle. I saw this man in the white rabbit costume talking with the party guests, and later on in another secret room I saw him injecting drugs with the big needle he had in his hand to several guests.

Bunny later told me that the White Rabbit was none other than her boyfriend, Diesel. These big basement secret parties were fueled with alcohol, pills, drugs, and some nudity. This was not really my cup of tea. I was just a young working girl only there to make some money for myself, and nothing more. Diesel seemed to be a happy man.

His job was secure in the mob and he was a good earner for them, but his relationship with his beautiful girlfriend Bunny did not seem to get any better. Diesel accused Bunny of cheating with a good-looking fellow mobster who we will call Joey, to protect his privacy. Even though Diesel was cheating on Bunny, he wanted to whack Joey for being with her, but Diesel was not a made man and did not have the clout or say to do so.

Diesel was still an associate for the mob and not in high standing. So Santo made the peace between the two men and told Joey to cool it with Diesel's girl. The two men shook hands, but things were still simmering under the surface between the two young mobsters. One day, I was shocked to hear that Diesel was accusing him of stealing money from his own Florida mob, and Santo had him whacked.

Soon, Diesel was found dead by the FBI in the trunk of his own red Ford Mustang car, with one bullet shot through his baby blue eyes. Diesel was very dead. I wondered where my friend Bunny was. A full four years later, a secret photo in a letter came into my mailbox.

The photo had Joey and Bunny's photo lying on the beach together in their bathing suits, enjoying cocktails as they tipped their drinks to me, giving me a nice toast. Bunny told me in her letter that it was her and her lover Joey who were stealing millions of mob money, not Diesel. They were smart enough to protect their money in Swiss bank accounts that the FBI did not even know about.

as they also protected themselves in the newly formed Witness Protection Program, which had been formed in 1970. Bunny also told me that Joey and she had also changed their names and fingerprints, and were now married, living in an undisclosed tropical paradise. The Florida Mob was not even looking for them, really, because they had always thought it was Diesel stealing all the Mob Millions, not Bunny and her new husband, Joey.

But Bunny and Joey wanted to make sure they had a clean getaway from the mob to start a new romantic life together with all their millions of dollars. They fooled everybody, and I was happy for them and wished them the best. As I looked at their lovely photo together, lying on the beach in the bathing suits, smiling at me with their cocktail glasses raised to me, honestly, Bunny never looked happier.

Hey Raven, I just want to say first of all that I love your channel, and I love your storytelling abilities. I could listen to you all day. This is the first time I've ever submitted a story, so please bear with me. Thank you, Adam. This happened in the early 90s in Liverpool, United Kingdom. My sister, who was about 23 at the time, worked in one of those boutique shops within a shopping center.

You know, one of those shops that sold everything from toiletries to furniture, toys to Christmas decorations. They also had smaller stores in there too, like a small shoe shop, a seasonal shop that sold Christmas trees at Christmas, fireworks on bonfire night, cards and seasonal gifts for Valentines, Mothers and Fathers Day, Easter, etc. She didn't really like the job. She was doing it for the extra money.

She was also working full-time at a cinema in the evening and weekends, which she did really like. They had a little room downstairs where they would have their break. It wasn't much of a room. It was a table and chairs, like those wooden ones you get outside in a pub beer garden, but a little bit smaller, meaning you couldn't move the chairs as they were attached to the table.

She would normally get a 15 minute break in the morning, and then an hour's lunch and another 15 minutes in the afternoon. She always preferred to eat her lunch on her own because she gets very self-conscious with other people watching her eat. It stems back to growing up and always getting bullied for how she ate or making too much noise. She noticed that the guy who worked in the shoe shop, let's call him Amir, started to time his breaks with hers.

At first, it was just the last five or ten minutes, which wasn't too bad, but then she would see him planning for his break when she was getting ready to go for hers. When she would get down to the break room, he would be sitting there. There didn't seem to be anything off with him. He was an older gentleman, maybe fifties, early sixties, and he was pleasant and friendly enough. Then the inappropriate questions started. "So are you single then?"

Would you date an older gentleman like me? She just smiled politely, trying not to be rude. The fact that he was possibly 50 years older than her, he obviously didn't see that as a problem. She remained polite, but tried to keep her distance as best as she could. She would go to the bakery in the shopping center for her lunch, or eat her sandwiches outside. Amir then started buying her chocolates and flowers with creepy notes like, "'To my number one girl.'"

One shift, he waited for her to go on her break, and then followed her downstairs. Instead of sitting on the bench opposite, he sat next to her, which meant that she had to move up to let him sit down. He put his hand on her arm and said, "'Have you been avoiding me?' "'No,' she replied, her voice clearly shaking. He then rubbed her arm and said, "'I was buying you nice things, and then you ignored me.'

She thought that she heard someone shout her name from upstairs. Well, if she didn't, she was going to make out like she did. She managed to squeeze past Amir and run upstairs. She went straight to the supervisor and told her everything that had gone on over the last weeks with Amir and his inappropriate behavior. The supervisor's response was even more shocking than Amir's behavior.

She said, "Oh, that's just a mirror. He does it to everyone. He won't be the first, and you won't be the last." It was then that she realized she could not stay there. He may have just been a harmless, lonely old man, but then again, he might have been something much, much darker. It was my last year of college, and I was burnt out and exhausted, but happy to finally be done.

As a congratulatory gift, my boyfriend planned a road trip for the two of us and my best friend Cassidy, who I hadn't seen in a year due to my schoolwork. She flew down to meet us, and she stayed there for a day so she could look around as she had never been to Georgia. The next day, we set off on our road trip back to Pennsylvania, where I grew up, where Cassidy was still living, as well as my parents.

My boyfriend, Grant, seriously planned this all out for me, and I was ecstatic. We all piled into his little car, filling the trunk in the backseat next to Cassidy, and we were on our way. We were making great time, even with the frequent stops to take pictures and the bathroom breaks. Grant and I even swapped driving duties so he could stretch out.

We stopped at a nice little diner in South Carolina. Cassidy convinced us to stop at an antique store in North Carolina, and ultimately I was glad that we did. Grant found an old game console from his childhood that we purchased, and he just looked so elated to find it. We decided to stay at a hotel in North Carolina for the night, since our excitement and energy was making us crash pretty hard.

The hotel was fine, nothing too extravagant about it, but it was clean and in a nice area. We went to the free breakfast buffet that morning before leaving. I was in line right behind an older man, he looked like he was probably in his 70s. He was bald, with a very long grey beard, and wearing a pair of jeans and a blue and red flannel shirt, with a pair of sunglasses on his head.

He asked me if I wanted the tongs for the hot dish that he was on, and I confirmed, so he handed them to me. Then, as I went to grab an apple from the covered fruit container at the end, he turned around and said, "'Think fast,' and stabbed my apple with one of those little drink swords. They had a container of them at the end to help pick up the waffles, I guess. When he did that, and he had this big grin on his face...

It made me jump, and we both kind of laughed. He started apologizing and offered to take the apple and to get me a new one, but I thought it was hilarious. I would never have expected him to do that, and it was just lighthearted fun. I told him it was fine, but that I was keeping his sword now, and he said that was fair since it would be considered evidence. He told me to have a good day, and we both parted. I went to the table with Grant and Cassidy and told them what had happened.

Cassidy said that she thought she saw him when we came down, but Grant did not. I explained what happened, but when I went to point him out, he was already gone. It wasn't a big deal, though. I figured he just took his food back to his room. We got back on the road after filling our stomachs, ready for another great day. However, we did not fill up our tanks, so after a few hours, we had to stop for gas.

Grant said that he needed to use the restroom, so I agreed to fill up as he went in and got us drinks as well. I finished fueling and after we stretched, Cassidy and I got back in the car as we waited for Grant to come out, which he did shortly after. Grant then told us the guy working behind the counter told him about a small museum about the state that wasn't too far away from where we were and asked if we wanted to go.

I love learning about new places, especially ones that I've never been to, so I was up for it. We got to the museum and had a good time. There was nothing wrong with it, and we got a souvenir but nothing too crazy going on. It wasn't until later that night that things started to get weird. I had to give a bit of a rundown of what happened so far on the trip, so the rest of this will make sense.

We took the day a bit slower since we were still on time, and by the time we were in Virginia, it was pretty dark out. I was driving at that time and getting tired, but we were planning on stopping at the next exit that had hotels. When I started to get tired, I hyper-focus on my surroundings. I don't know if it's a way to prevent me from falling asleep or what, but it's what I do, and it's definitely helped.

But as we drove and our chatter slowly died down, I focused on the surroundings outside. We were passing through a section of highway that was pretty empty. The road was pretty flat, and there were fields on both sides. Some kind of farm, it seemed. I saw a sign for the exit coming soon, so I started to slow down, preparing to get over, not wanting to miss my exit.

As I started to slow down, I could see a dark figure in the distance to the right of us. As we got closer, I was able to make out the shape of a person. There was a person standing on the side of the highway, in the middle of the night, but the only thing is that there wasn't a car in sight. There wasn't one on the side of the road. So, seeing this guy completely alone was bizarre, and I started to slow down even more.

No, I'm not the type to pick up a hitchhiker, especially in the middle of nowhere, but I was curious if he was okay, and what exactly he was doing there. Grant was still awake at this point with me, so we were both looking at this guy. As I got closer, our speed was nearly at a crawl, until we were a few feet from him. Grant then suddenly said, ''What the hell?'' But I didn't know why, I just kept driving."

That was until we got in front of him. I was at a loss for words. The man standing there was the same guy from the hotel in North Carolina. The man that had stabbed at my apple. At least, it looked identical to him. He had on the jeans and flannel shirt, was bald, had a long gray beard. His sunglasses were even sitting on his head still. He was holding what looked like some kind of rake.

I was at nearly a crawl trying to look at this guy. Grant was really focused on him too, considering he was the one on his side. He could see him even better than I could. I mentioned that he looked like the guy from the hotel, and Grant quickly said, "'Drive. Don't stop. Just drive.' The way he said it scared the hell out of me, so I gunned it to the exit and got off the highway."

We stopped at some hotel, and I asked him what the hell that was about, trying to see if maybe he saw something I didn't. He asked me again about the guy from the hotel, and I described him, explaining how he looked just like him. The color from his face drained, and he told me that's exactly what the guy looked like at the gas station that we stopped at. I tried to be reasonable there. He definitely looked just like a man from the hotel that Grant did not see, but...

I also didn't see the attendant at the gas station. Grant had no reason to lie about his description. In fact, he seemed more disturbed by the man on the side of the road than I did, so I can't see him doing all that just to freak me out. We both agreed that it had to be some kind of crazy coincidence, and woke up Cassidy so we could get into the hotel.

We got into our room and also explained what happened to Cass, and she agreed that it was bizarre, but otherwise we all kind of just dropped it. The hotel wasn't anything spectacular. We wanted a place to rest and shower, so the quick continental breakfast was welcoming too. We were back on the road and back to enjoying ourselves along the way, talking, laughing, and singing.

There was apparently one planned stop close to the border of West Virginia and Pennsylvania, something that Grant specifically wanted to check out. We were kind of torn at that point in our trip. We were contemplating just driving the rest of the way home, or if we should stop again. It would be earlier, so we would have the day to do whatever we wanted, so we agreed to stay. That way we didn't push ourselves either.

So we stopped at a restaurant for an early dinner and looked up some hotels in the area, and made our choice. We would pick a pretty popular looking hotel. The price was decent, and the rooms looked clean. They also had free breakfast and a pool. We tried to keep it cheap, but we also wanted to be able to enjoy ourselves. Anyways, we left the restaurant and headed for the hotel, ready to take a dip or maybe a nap.

But once we walked to the front desk, I was immediately in panic mode. Standing behind the desk was the same man from the gas station, from the field, from the last hotel. It was the same bald man with a beard and sunglasses, in a flannel shirt and jeans. He even smiled at us. It was the kind of smile of familiarity, like when you recognize someone.

When we all noticed him, we looked at each other, as if trying to determine if what we were seeing was real. Again, Cas saw him from the first hotel, so now we had all seen him in multiple places. How was this possible? There was no way he could have been following us. Most of our trip was unplanned, and sometimes we were ahead, sometimes behind. The guy was nice, asking us about a room and making small talk.

He asked where we were coming from and where we were going, and I couldn't speak. Grant said we were from Georgia, but just said that we didn't have a destination yet. I could tell that Grant was suspicious, too. Cassidy then jumped in and asked if he was from another state, and he laughed and said no, saying he'd lived in Pennsylvania all his life. We checked in, the man thanked us, and we went to our room.

Once we were in, we all looked at each other like, what the hell is going on? How did we see the same guy in four different places, even working multiple jobs? So no matter what we came up with, none of it made sense. Cass and I were worried that we could have possibly been followed, but Grant didn't seem to agree. I think he was trying to keep us calm more than anything, but he thought it was just a crazy coincidence that we saw these men.

I tried to believe that. I tried to let it go and just enjoy the last stretch of our trip, but I was too nervous to even go out and get ice. To our relief, we did not see the man the next morning. Or again on our trip. We got home, enjoyed our time there and our trip back with just Grant and I were flannel guy free, but I will never forget him. I will never forget seeing him all those times.

and just wondering what it all meant. My brother, Alfredo, and I planned a road trip from Oklahoma to Mexico. Our father was actually born in Mexico and moved to the U.S. for a chance at a better life. There, he met our mother and they moved to Oklahoma together, where they had us and our little sister, Monica. My father was an avid hunter and camper and just an all-around outdoorsy type.

We both have wonderful memories together of us all camping, and even our boys trips of the three of us hunting. In the early 2000s, my father passed away due to heart complications. We were all devastated as he really was the rock that held us all together. Truly a family man. But after we all took nearly a year to grieve and feel sorry for ourselves, our mom convinced us that it's not what our father would have wanted.

We knew that we needed to move on for him, and that's precisely what we aimed to do. So, for the anniversary of his death, we decided to continue his tradition of our father-son trips and drive down to Mexico, in order to sprinkle some of his ashes in his hometown. Our planning was very meticulous. We knew what essentials to pack and what would just take up space.

We took our camping gear, expecting to be sleeping under the stars, not in hotels, or at least in the back of the truck. We packed a cooler with simple foods to last us in between, as well as another cooler with water and our dad's favorite lemonade. Our little splurge. We set out, looking forward to a few days away. A chance for us to heal and move on. The trip started out great.

We made a few stops in between to sightsee or to rest. We had even gotten into Mexico with little hiccups on the way. We actually found the exact house that our dad used to live in. The people that lived there at the time of our trip even invited us in and told us about how they actually knew our grandfather, which was how they got the house.

It was supposed to go to our father, but he agreed with his father to let the family have it, as they were in more need of it than he was. Just another show of how selfless our father was. We sprinkled some of his ashes there, and then we planned to go to his favorite fishing spot that he went to with his father. We stayed in Mexico an extra day just to experience it.

We went a few times as kids, but it had been so long ago, and we hardly remembered everything and wanted to see it all as an adult. After our time in Mexico, we knew that we had to make our way back home, so we packed everything up and prepared to make the way back.

We refilled some of our food and water, but they didn't have a lot of options for bottled water where we were at, so we grabbed what we could and said that we would fill up the next chance we could get. We had tossed our used bottles, not thinking about refilling them, so we were kicking ourselves for that. Anyways, we still had a good amount of supplies, so we thought we would be okay.

But what we did not account for were truck problems that would severely throw a wrench into our plans. As we drove and talked, there was suddenly a loud popping sound and the check engine light kicked on. We could hear a weird gurgling sound, and we both looked at each other like, "What the hell was that?" We pulled over to the side of the road and opened the hood to see what happened.

The only problem is, we weren't exactly mechanically inclined. Our dad tried to teach us some things, but of all the things he tried to get us to do, we just could not grasp the car thing. It just wasn't our thing. And I think he knew that, so he didn't push it much. We knew how to change oil, but that was about it. We looked under the hood and couldn't really see anything immediately wrong.

Our initial thought was to drive it slowly with the hazards on to the next town and to call for a tow truck to the closest car shop. As mentioned, this was the early 2000s. Neither of us had cell phones, so we had no way of calling anyone. But when Alfredo went to try to start the truck, it wouldn't turn over at all. All we got was a weak whirring sound and the lights kicking on. That truck was not moving.

We were still in Mexico, and the road we were on was pretty empty, previously only seeing two other cars on it. We both agreed that all we could do was wait for someone to pass and hopefully stop to help us. We just took it as a time to relax. We sat in the bed until we got too hot and then moved into the truck, thinking the shade would help some. However, it soon became too hot in there as well.

So we treated it as another night and set up our tent in the field next to the road. We thought we could at least rest and eat and if anything maybe a cop would come by to tell us we couldn't stay there and we could get some help. But I guess that was just us being optimistic. There wasn't a single car that drove by that day or through the night, at least while we were awake.

We ended up falling asleep without being disturbed once, and we woke up in the same situation that we were in. We considered walking, but we couldn't remember how far away the last stop was. We'd been driving for quite some time, and by foot, it was going to take even longer. We once again decided to wait it out, hoping that it was a fresh day and surely there would be at least one person there.

It had been hours, and still, nobody was around. By midday, the temps had to be in the triple digits, and we had to stay hydrated with how much we were sweating. However, we didn't have a lot of water left. We had four bottles between both of us, and even portioning out how much we drank, it wasn't going to last long.

We both had gone through a bottle each. We were using some of the ice and water from the food cooler to put on our face and skin to save the other one. I know that I was really feeling the effects already, but Alfredo seemed to really be affected. He told me that he was feeling sick, so I told him to lay down in the truck, keeping the wet shirt that he had on his head, and I hooked the small fan that was powered by the lighter port to blow on him.

The truck wasn't moving anyways, so who really cared if we killed the battery? To my surprise, and fear, there was one car that we saw coming from the distance. I stood behind the truck and waved my hand, but they didn't even slow down. They were going fast enough that I couldn't even make out who was driving. I was frustrated. I could understand not wanting to pick someone up, but why not just stop to ask what was wrong?

If they could just pass it along to someone, a cop or anyone, it would help. But there we were. Another night with no help. Alfredo was in and out of sleep, but he was breathing really fast. I was worried about him. By the next morning, he wasn't really responsive, and I started to fear that he was dehydrated and or having a heat stroke.

I told him to drink his water and my last bottle, just taking sips of the melted ice from our food cooler. I was the older brother and I felt responsible for him. If we didn't see anyone that day, I knew that I was going to have to start walking to do something. In fact, I really didn't have much of a choice. I was going to have to start walking that day. Otherwise, we would be completely out of water and then neither of us would be strong enough to go.

But I was also worried about leaving Alfredo alone. I finally made the decision that I had to try to get help somehow. I filled up the empty bottles with the water from the food cooler, put them in the cooler, and put it next to Alfredo. I told him I was going to get help, and he didn't really respond. I was worried that I was running out of time.

I started walking the direction that we had come from, and I was only an hour in, according to my watch, and I was already starting to regret it. I was feeling weak and dizzy, and my water was almost gone. I was scared and angry. We just wanted to have a good trip with our dad one last time, and we were still hindered. I stopped to sit on a boulder, trying to calm down, when I heard the rolling sound of wheels on gravel.

I looked up and saw an old rickety truck heading in my direction. I was elated, but tried not to get my hopes up. It was possible that they wouldn't stop either, but as I weakly waved them over, they surprisingly did. It was an old man, wearing a cowboy hat and overalls with no shirt. He asked if I was alright, and I flatly told him no. I explained what happened, and he told me to hop in the back, and I didn't hesitate.

He drove back to where Alfredo was, and I was just thankful for the man and the breeze as he drove. Once we were there, he told me to get my brother in the truck, and he looked at ours. He was hardly coherent at that point, and he was extremely hot to the touch. The man confirmed that he had a feeling that he knew what was wrong with it, but that it wasn't going to be a quick fix, so he agreed to take us into town.

I quickly threw our camping gear into the back of the truck, not giving a damn about the stuff at that point. I just wanted my brother to be okay. The man drove us back to the town that we passed through, and with how long it took us, I don't think that I would have made that walk. The man said that he was actually planning on picking some things up from his sister a few towns over, and he almost didn't because of how hot it was that day.

I was just incredibly thankful that he decided to go for whatever reason he did. Once there, I got Alfredo to a clinic who confirmed that he was severely dehydrated. We got fluids and electrolytes in him, and he was back to normal for the most part. Other than a migraine and being tired, he said, we stayed there a few more days until we could get our truck towed and fixed. At least enough to just get us home.

I couldn't thank that man enough for being so generous to us, and I even offered to pay him, but he refused. Thankfully, we were able to get home after that with little problems, and we made sure to have a full pack of water. Even if it was hot, it was better than no water. Looking back, the trip was still enjoyable. I was happy that we were able to get to Mexico with no issues to give our dad a proper send-off,

And I feel as though that since he was with us, he was looking out for us that day too. And I will be forever grateful for the man that stopped. I saw your request for creepy co-worker stories, and I've been meaning to reach out to you for a long time because I probably literally have a hundred stories I could tell you. I have a lot of weird experiences. Heh.

So, I'm a nurse, and I started working at a hospital, and they were training me on the night shift with this guy named Jamarcus. That is so nice. So I was telling him all kinds of weird paranormal experiences I've had, and he was sitting across the table from me, and it was about 3 in the morning. I noticed he was getting tired and probably bored. His eyes were getting heavy, and he was about to doze off.

As I sat across from him, my peripheral vision saw a portal in the corner of the ceiling. It was probably about 18 inches in diameter, and it was black speckles making up the circle, any way I looked directly at it, and it was still there.

So, I'm at a point talking and telling Jamarcus how I don't like to watch scary movies because I feel demons are attached to them, and you're kind of letting that into your house or space or whatever by it just being on the screen. All of a sudden, he pops his head up, and his face morphs into this creepy face. He literally kind of walks on his elbows across the table, gets up into my face, and in a demonic voice says...

"Yeah, you don't like that you can't take it, can you?" Then he just kind of goes back and like melts back down asleep into his chair. I was like, "What the hell?" I worked with Jamarcus for six years after that and he is so nice. I like him and I consider him a friend, and I never told him what happened. It's hard to even believe that something could have spoken through such a sweet guy.

It kind of gives you some weird food for thought. In the mid-2000s, I worked at a call center. It was a warehouse building converted into a call center with thousands of square feet filled with cubicles. Back then, companies still had designated smoking areas. Ours was a fenced-in patio, and a large number of employees, including me at the time, smoked cigarettes.

So there was this new guy that I would see who I started talking with on my smoke breaks. Dude had a rockabilly look with tattoo sleeves. Seemed like a really chill dude. We would chat about common interests and would probably have hung out at some point, but he disappeared suddenly.

I found out later, through the gossip grapevine, that he was fired, supposedly for accessing adult content on his work computer. Kind of odd, as the cubicles at this place had low walls with no privacy. Anyone standing up could see your screen. But he was gone. A little while later, a coworker posted a bulletin on Myspace with a link to a news story. It was about the coworker who disappeared...

Apparently, he was divorced, and despite being in a new relationship, he couldn't get over his ex. So, he went to her apartment, cut a hole in the door with a chainsaw, and started shooting through the hole with an assault rifle. The dude killed his ex-wife's new boyfriend and shot her several times. She survived, however, she was pregnant and the unborn child did not.

I remember my coworker friend having a hard time with this. She was apparently close with this dude, and really empathized with his mental issues. While she didn't condone what he had done, she was disgusted how the prosecution asserted that he was faking his mental health issues. Anyway, this kind of messed with me for a bit, because the dude always seemed totally chill in our interactions.

I always found it fun to BS with him, and even felt a little sad when he just stopped being around on my smoke breaks. I guess it just goes to show that you never really know what's going on with some people. I dated a man in 2000. I had a new job, a new car, and a new guy. I also had just finished a new degree. I was happy in my new job, and things were all going great, until they weren't.

The guy that I dated invited me over to dinner after work and had cooked some great Italian food for me. I really appreciated it. It felt so nice to be cared about and for. I smiled down deep into my soul. We talked and unwound our day's events and he said something rather unimportant and I responded with an innocent "I bet" or maybe an "Oh really?" or "Maybe, I'm sure." Just nothing.

Suddenly, he went rather ballistic over the non-comment. I was baffled. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded. I was really dumbstruck with such rage. Why? I had said it was nothing. Just an acknowledgement that I was listening was all. But he took it like I was being sarcastic, I suppose. We had dated months and months by this time, and I couldn't imagine this reaction.

It actually scared me how angry he'd become out of nowhere about nothing. I suddenly felt alone, empty and void. There was something evil in the air. We'd been having such a great talk and dinner was delicious, dammit. What was happening and why was he acting so furious? I conquered my fear with the antidote of my own anger.

He always would tell me to call him, so he knew I got home safely, and as I stood and said, "I need to get home," of course he fell into his routine. It struck me that maybe he was just keeping tabs on me. Anyway, I left and heard my thoughts say that I would never again return or answer his calls. That always came daily. Sometimes he would call and sing a love song on my business voicemail or just say he wanted to say good morning, and it always made my day.

but something was as if it struck an explosive note and things just could not return to how they were. I was never told he was bipolar by him or anyone, and apparently he was very well managed with regular medication he had taken religiously, but his brother later confided that he had stopped taking them, and that it would make him feel more alive and creative, and he would then compose guitar pieces and sing beautifully when he was in his manic state.

I knew writers and artists were also no stranger to bipolar men and women of talent. It wasn't fair that he'd also not told me, I thought. Things escalated with his symptoms that can be very typical. I'd read volumes of things on the subject. He'd travel on a whim hundreds of miles and gave away his new truck. He had affairs going with different women. He had knocked on my sister's door at 3am to talk to her about music since she too was a musician.

She'd called the police, and when they asked him if he knew what time it was, he said yes. She had to get up at five. Another Sunday evening, my sister and I, along with my parents, took a long rambling ride from Kentucky long into Indiana, and ate lunch and then went back and talked in my living room. My dad fell asleep and was snoring, as my mother crumpled up on a couch and my sister nestled on the loveseat.

I decided to just go lie in my bed in the back of the house. So I did. In a while, I heard my sister's blood-curdling scream. I came running in there and everyone was sat bolt upright. She told me that my ex-boyfriend had walked right up to the living room window and was just staring in. I guess she felt the stare and woke up. I'm sure it may have looked funny with all of them sleeping. I was so glad that I had moved to my bedroom. He was tall enough that she saw him staring into the room.

He had not called, knocked, or rang the doorbell, and he left immediately. I later learned that he tried to end his own life, and maybe have finally been successful, but I haven't been informed so I don't know, only that he did die. But before I knew of his passing, I had a very weird dream that was so real. I dreamed that I was in my bed and suddenly felt someone sit on my right side.

I felt the mattress push down and felt someone close to me staring at me. I opened my eyes and just saw him there looking in my eyes. Then, after a couple of seconds, I awoke and thought that it felt like I couldn't move, as people have described. I truly feel that he was a troubled spirit, and when I think of him, I say a prayer for him. It was a scary time for those months."

Please, consider doing so.

Those ratings push the podcast into the algorithm, and we all know how the algorithm controls everything, so yeah. I also do have a Patreon, if you go to patreon.com slash astheravendreams, you can support the channel further. For as little as a dollar a month, you can get early access to all of my content in audio format.

The content's a little different, as it's based on what I upload to my YouTube side, but it's the same stories, just in different collections of stories than how they're presented here. Speaking of stories, if you have one you would like to submit to me, please go to astheravendreams.com and click the button in the middle of the screen that says Submit Your Story. These stories are mostly sourced by listeners, so let's keep the podcast alive.

If you've got one, I'd love to read it. Anyways, friends, I hope you're all having a beautiful day and a lovely week, and I hope I see you again very soon. But until then, remember you're loved, you're valid, you're important. You're the best you can be. Never forget it. And until next time, much love and sleep well.