7 Of The Most Horrifying TRUE Scary Stories Found On The Internet | Best LetsNotMeet Horror Stories


This is a collection of some of the scariest
and most interesting stories from the internet. I’ve never read any of these stories on my
channel, but if you’ve heard any of them, I will be leaving timestamps
for each story in the description and pinned comment just incase you want to skip past
any. Now that that’s out of the way, I hope you
enjoy the video and let’s begin This took place about 10 years ago when I
was a freshman in college. This is the first time I’ve recounted this story, in full detail,
to anyone. I attended college in a rural, mountain area
in the NorthEast. A small school tucked away in the rolling hills of the mountains. The
type of place where the beauty and casual grace of nature is juxtaposed by the ugliness
of humanity. The newspaper was ultraconservative & you couldn’t sojourn too deeply into the
woods beyond a few tree’s without seeing some trace of meth activity. You know the type
of place I mean. ANYWAY, one of my new friends from college
discovered somehow an abandoned train trestle deep in the woods about 5 miles from campus
(in no man’s land, basically.) I don’t remember how he found this place, because it was very
much off the beaten path. The trestle crossed above a river which placidly flowed about
40 ft below. It was actually quite beautiful and we began going there maybe 3 times a week
just chilling on the trestle, watching the water below and the open sky above. We’d drink
forty’s there, smoke a bowl there, bring girls there. We began jumping off the trestle into
the water below & then climbing back up. It was just a very college-y thing to do. Our
chill spot basically. So one day, just needing to get away from
the dorms & away from it all, I decided to go by myself to the trestle for a swim. It
was about 7pm so I still had a good hour or so of dim sunlight and I brought a flashlight
for the walk home when it was sure to be dark. I made the trek though the pathways of the
woods as I had done a hundred times before left my towel and flashlight on the trestle
and jumped into the water. The water was bout 10 to 15 feet deep, Id
say. It flowed almost imperceptibly-you might as well be swimming in a stagnant pool. However,
about maybe 50 yards away from the trestle, the river narrows and the current picks up
significantly, then about 20 yards after that there is a maybe 20 foot high waterfall that
bubbles and splashes with extreme violence. We used to watch large objects go over and
never come up again. So there I am, dimly bobbing my head in & out
of the water. Doing underwater flips, etc. When I pop my head out of the water, I happen
to glance to the side of the river and see a man walking towards the water. The water
is kind of impeding my view so I don’t see him fluidly walking towards the water. I more
see him in different stages of being closer to the water. Like flipping through a flip
book. He 15 ft away, 10 ft away, 5 feet away. I can barely give you a description: maybe
6ft tall, pale, skinny, black hair pulled back in a pony tail. What I DO remember most
about his appearance was the extremely empty look on his face and in his eyes. Like he
was doing something mundane: taking out the trash, or raking leaves.
I’m treading water, not knowing what to think, and I see that he is no longer beside the
river, he has dove in. and is swimming pin-straight directly at me SO FAST. SO FAST. I try to
swim the opposite way but within a minute I feel him grab my ankle and tug. I tried
to scream but water filled my mouth. While I’m under water he lets go and goes up for
air, then grabs back on and pulls me again. It seems like he’s done this before and I
never once see him after he jumped in the water. He’s gradually pulling me to where
the current picks up before the waterfall. I start to realize this and just fucking flipping
out. Kicking, screaming, cursing-to no effect. Finally, I feel the current start the take
me, and as I twist away towards the waterfall, I look back and see this, this, fucking guy
just casually swimming back to where he jumped in the water. Not even looking at me. This
is by far the scariest moment of my life as I approach the waterfall. Long story short,
I go over and am underwater for a long time, over a minute. The water above, unrelentingly
pushing me under. The only reason I survived was there was a large log that had gone over
and I grabbed it and leverage it against the bottom to push me away from the crushing water.
I survive obviously. But then I had to trek the miles back to my dorm, in the dark, without
my flashlight. Every step of the way thinking he would come back to finish the job.
The next year, a football player drowned going over that fall. The news said it was because
there was an extreme current due to recent rainfall but I’ve always wondered about that. Before I start here’s a bit of context to
my story. My husband and I lived in a small two floor house with two main entrances, one
along the front and the other on the side of the house, which opens up into the laundry
room. When we’re too busy or it’s too late to walk our dog, we hook his collar onto
a long line that’s attached to one of the pipes on the corner of our house, so he can
use the bathroom. We used to do this from the door in our laundry room, but we’d noticed
the large step from the door to the ground had been taking a toll on his hips. As a result,
we started letting him out through the front door instead, since the porch is much closer
to the ground. This particular night, I was home alone with
my dog and it was around midnight when I decided to let him outside one last time before going
to bed. I hook him up to his line, close the door and lock it, before heading into the
kitchen to put away the dishes. This was pretty routine, even if he used the bathroom quickly
he liked to walk around along the front and side of the house for a few minutes before
coming back inside. As I’m putting away the dishes I hear a scratch on the door (how
my dog signals he wants to come inside), so I head over to let him back in.
Since I’ve watched way too many scary movies, I always look through the door’s peephole
before opening the door. Out of habit I look to check that my dog is in front of the door.
Instead I see a man staring very intently at the door handle.
I freeze with my hand on the door handle. I don’t know how much time went by, but
then I heard another scratch, this one louder than the last. This kind of wakes me up from
my initial shock and I run to grab my cellphone. I call my husband to tell him what’s happening.
He was very confused, I probably wasn’t explaining the situation very well, but says
that he’s heading home. This is when I realize my dog is still outside
with this person. I head back to the front door, trying to make as little noise as possible,
to check whether the stranger is still there. Just like before, he’s standing there, head
bowed looking at the door knob. I tiptoe over to the laundry room, and slowly open the door
as quietly as possible. I can’t see my dog anywhere and the side of my house is covered
in gravel, I knew I couldn’t step outside without making a lot of noise.
With my heart still pounding in my chest, I go to the front door to keep an eye on the
stranger and to get a better look at him. I considered calling the police but I didn’t
feel they would take me seriously, since all this man was doing was standing in front of
my house. I tried taking a picture of him with my cellphone but my camera was only able
to take pictures of the peephole and not the images behind the glass.
All of the sudden, the man looks up directly at me. I swear he knew I was there. He glares
at me, then opens his mouth to show this taunting malicious grin. He stood there that way for
a few seconds. With that, he turns around and starts to walk down the street.
I stay in the same place, almost expecting him to rush back and start pounding on the
door. Luckily, my husband got back after a few minutes. Long story short, he convinced
me to call the police and we went out looking for our dog. It turns out this man had cut
the end of the line connected to the pipe, and our dog decided this was a good time for
him to explore my neighbors backyard, which was where we found him. It’s been three
years since this happened, we’ve since moved to a new house (unrelated reasons), and the
police weren’t able to come up with any suspects. Ever since then, we take our dog
on very long walks before the sun goes down. This happened in the fall of 1993, when I
was 20 years old. In the interest of context, this was before I started college, and I was
working in the material prep department of a plastics factory on the night shift. I was
the only woman in the department, and my male coworkers were initially skeptical that I
could handle the job, but I proved myself and earned their respect. It was hard work,
but on the plus side, it also put me in the best shape of my life. It was also about this
same time that I’d dumped my abusive boyfriend; he was verbally, emotionally, and physically
abusive, as well as an alcoholic. This fact, more than anything, is probably why I got
myself into this situation in the first place. I had just gotten off work, and it was about
1:30am. My car was running on fumes, so I stopped at a local gas station to fill up.
While I was pumping gas, a woman about my age approached me looking nervous and scared.
She said that she had been at her boyfriend’s house, and they’d had a fight. She’d walked
to the gas station to use the pay phone and call a friend to pick her up. On her way to
the station, a car pulled up as she was walking and the guys inside started catcalling and
harassing her. With a slight movement of her head she indicated a car that was parked off
to the side by the gas station dumpsters. I saw a large light green car, like a Caddy
or a Lincoln, with at least 2 or 3 shadowy figures inside. She said they threatened her,
and she was too scared to call her friend and wait.
The woman was neat, well-dressed, and didn’t seem high or drunk or anything like that…she
just seemed really nervous and freaked out, so I didn’t even hesitate. I finished pumping
my gas and told her to hop in the car, that I’d take her home.
At that time on a weeknight, there was little traffic, so I booked it right out of the gas
station and asked her where she lived. She kept twisting around in the seat to see if
the car was behind us, and when I asked her to put her seat-belt on, she ignored me and
kept looking for the car. I assumed she was just scared.
A few blocks down the road, however, I noticed she was looking around the car, and she started
asking me about money, “Where’s your purse? Where’s your bag? I need money. You need
to give me some money.” My stomach sank. I have this woman in my car, and now she’s
gonna rob me. Fuck. But when I thought about it, robbery just didn’t make much sense.
I was driving a 1985 Chevette (affectionately nicknamed “Shitbox”) and was wearing my
work clothes: a ratty T-shirt and jeans with combat boots. I did NOT look like a person
with a lot of cash primarily because I wasn’t a person with a lot of cash.
She’d twisted around in the seat again and started yelling, “There they are! There
they are!” She didn’t sound scared anymore. I checked the rearview, and sure enough, the
light green car is right behind me. She started cackling and bouncing up and down in the seat,
“My boys are gonna FUCK YOU UP, bitch! They’re gonna FUCK YOU UP!” She’s laughing like
crazy, opening the glove box, looking in the back for a bag or purse, telling me all the
messed up shit these guys are planning to do to me.
Now, if I had been smart, I would have just driven to the police station. Actually, if
I had been VERY smart, I would have called the cops from the gas station and waited with
her until they arrived. That would have been the intelligent thing to do. Unfortunately,
none of this crossed my mind until later. In the moment, I just got really, really fucking
angry. I realized 3 key things all at once: There was an intersection up ahead, with cars
on either side waiting to cross, and the light had just turned yellow.
I had a spare box cutter that I kept for work in the driver’s side door compartment.
The crazy bitch still hadn’t put on her seat-belt.
I didn’t think. I floored it and passed under the yellow light just as it turned red.
I glanced back to see if the green car was still behind me, but the cross traffic at
the intersection had started to move, and they hadn’t caught up. The bitch started
yelling; I slammed on the brakes and she hit the dash and windshield with a solid, and
viciously satisfying, crack. When she rebounded to the passenger seat, I had the box cutter
in her face and was screaming some serious bat-shit crazy. I can’t remember exactly
what I said, but it was along the lines of, “Get the FUCK OUT. Get the FUCK out of my
car before I CUT OFF YOUR FACE AND MAKE YOU EAT IT, BITCH.”
The crazy screaming and box-cutter combo worked. She grabbed blindly at the handle and popped
the door open, and I started shoving and punching her until the bitch tumbled out the door to
the curb. I stomped on the gas, got to the next turn and squealed around it with the
passenger door still open. I made a few more turns because I was afraid that the green
car might catch up to me. After a little while I stopped to close the passenger door, and
then I cut across town and got on to the highway to go home. I was on the highway for about
5 minutes before the shakes started. I pulled off to the shoulder to calm down and get my
shit together, and then I drove home. I told my older sister (I was living with
her temporarily after the break-up with my ex) everything that happened. She wrapped
me in a tight bear hug while simultaneously yelling about how stupid I was for not going
to the police. I’ve never been so glad to be yelled at in my life. To give some explanation and background knowledge
for this whole encounter, I was around 15 at the time this occurred. I was camping out
in the middle of nowhere with my family and part of my extended family, my aunt, uncle,
and cousins. I was the oldest kid there in the RV, so you can probably understand how
it felt to have no one else to do the stupid crap I did back then with. With a good 2 year
gap between me and the inferiors, it was almost like nirvana when I got to the campground
and met the other teenagers. These were all people we knew fairly well
from previous camping trips, so it was considered normal to hit it off with them from the start
and act like we’ve known each other forever within the hour.
Now, the story. My parents trusted me a lot, not a lie. I
liked my fun, but I liked getting home in time for dinner equally as much. So when I
was gone most of the day with other people from the camp, they didn’t think much of it.
The only rule was that I had to be back at the RV to eat dinner, and before 8:30 (20:30)
in the evening. So picture this: group of 6 teenagers, 15-16, out in the middle of the
woods with no adult supervision for the vast majority of the day. Just a recipe for success
right there. But this particular day, we found a neat little
deer trail we hadn’t found in the 2 years we’d been there before. On second thought,
though, it didn’t really seem like a deer trail. It snaked through a really thick part
of the underbrush, maybe a foot (30cm) of clear ground, 3 ½ feet (1 meter) clear of
branches going upwards. It’s a really hard thing to pick out of the brush, unless you’re
either really looking or know where it is. It was promptly explored, marked with a broken
branch outside of the entrance, and quickly forgotten.
Except, I remembered this special little tunnel. That night, while we were all eating dinner,
one of the adults proposed that we played manhunt out in the woods. At night. Not everyone
was totally on board with this idea, but in the grand scheme of the plan, they were quashed
down like autumn leaves. Everyone got a flashlight, and everyone was assigned to a team.
For those of you who aren’t sure what manhunt is, here’s an explanation: Everyone playing
is given a flashlight, and they are divided into two groups. It’s basically like glorified
flashlight tag, but there’s a catch; As you catch people, you have to correctly identify
who they are, and if you can, they join forces with the hunters. The last man standing gets
a candy bar or something, whatever is being offered as a prize. This is how we played
it, anyways. For the first round, I get lumped in with
the runners, those who are getting chased by the hunters. We get a 5 minute head start
to run, climb a tree, whatever the hell we want to do to evade the hunters. Usually,
I’m the one up in the tree, but that never really worked out as being the winning spot.
So, to try and score a win for once, I decide to play the cat and use one, surefire method
of escape. And the hiding spot was the rude little path
through the thicket. It took most of the head start time to find
the damn thing, because it was so well-hidden and out of the way. As I passed hiding spots,
I heard hushed, smothered whispering between siblings who were questioning my actions,
like a bird’s wings rustling when it’s fluffing itself. It should be noted that I
have bat hearing; my ears are possibly my greatest asset in this game. But when I’m
just reaching the destination, I hear the short blast of the air horn announcing that
the five minutes are up. I swan dove into this minute little path in
the undergrowth, shuffling on my hands and knees until I’m about halfway in, crouching
down like some huge, malformed quail. The hunters are doing an initial sweep through
the trails, looking for obvious hiders and people caught out trying to change spots.
When they finally reach me, they reach the dead end and go straight back. I try to readjust
myself, and crawl further down the tunnel. I honestly don’t know how it happened, but
I found an even more hidden path within that one, And accidentally, I dragged my stupid
body down the rabbit hole. Except, instead of ending in a dead end, this one ended in
a slight hollow. I don’t ever want to describe exactly what
I found there. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. It was a younger looking woman, naked, covered
in lacerations and stab wounds in the fetal position. Her glassy, glazed eyes seemed to
look straight through me. I won’t go any further than that. I was too scared to scream,
and I froze there while dark, burgundy stains formed on my jeans.
I froze there, in a pseudo-catatonic position like a marble carving for what felt like hours.
And then, I heard someone else coming along that path.
Have you ever been so scared that for one moment, one insane moment, you truly consider
something incredibly stupid as a viable option to escape? That was one of those times. I
let out a short, trembling whimper, and started moving. Whoever was on the path stopped, and
then eagerly started moving forward again. I could hear their panting, uneven breaths
of a man, a horrible marker of whoever it was getting closer and closer to me by the
second. By some wondrous, beautiful miracle, he missed
the path leading to the brushy hollow. I heard him moving down past the entrance, dragging
something clunky and awkward behind him. I heard clinking noises, and the occasional
effort to silence the small, sharp noises. I heard a low curse, somewhere towards the
end of the tunnel, and I blasted out of the undergrowth tunnel like a bullet forcing its
way out a barrel. Cracks, crashes and obnoxious rustling was all around me as I heard the
man sharply intake a breath and begin to move towards me.
The hoarse, deep panting was getting closer and closer to me, a testament to how I was
too slow at exiting. Somehow, I exploded out of the entrance, got onto my wobbly, half-asleep
legs, and started booking it down the trail. The unknown pursuer was close behind me for
a bit, but it seemed like he was too exhausted to chase me at the same speed for long.
I know everyone loves to rip on the fact that people aways trip in horror movies, but in
all honesty, tripping is something I am AMAZED I didn’t do. With adrenaline coursing through
me at the speed of Usain Bolt, trying to make my jello-like, unsteady walking appendages
work to move me away from whoever was behind me was like trying to run on water.
It felt like an eternity, but I finally reached the main trail running back to the camp, and
sprinted down it screaming bloody murder. Confused faces looked out from the trees,
and I think someone called after me. Reaching the camp was easy, but trying to explain why
I woke up half the people in the camp and bolted out of the woods at breakneck speed
was harder. When I finally choked the words out to explain, I remember a profound, insidious
silence throughout the group of adults waiting at the mouth of the trail.
I really don’t remember a whole lot from that point on. I know the cops were called,
and my mother and aunt ran shrieking and wailing along the trail, calling for the other kids
to come back to safety. When someone’s yelling like that, you don’t ignore it; they rounded
everyone up in 30 seconds flat, and barreled back into the camp.
The police found a man out in the woods, creeping along the trail, clutching a knife. A black
garbage bag with a plethora of sharp instruments and a saw was found abandoned on the trail,
some speckled and smeared with dried blood. I don’t think there’s really any getting
over it. I still have nightmares sometimes, of the man chasing me, breathing heavily down
the back of my neck, trying to catch me. Sometimes, he succeeds. So this is a story that happened to my mom’s
friend in Korea about like 10 years ago. Every time I hear this story, I still get the chills.
My mom’s friend lived in an apartment complex in Seoul. She was a stay-at-home mother with
a young daughter, and her husband worked during the days. One day, she was coming home from
running errands with her daughter and got onto the elevator in her building. When she
got on, she noticed that there was a man wearing a cap and a yellow raincoat, and he kept his
head low so that she couldn’t really see his face. She immediately felt really uneasy,
and she made her daughter stand to her side, furthest away from the man. What made her
feel even more uncomfortable was that when she pressed the button for her floor, there
was no other lit number. And on top of that, she noticed that he was carrying something
wrapped inside newspaper close to his side. Things started to click in my mom’s friend’s
head and she started to panic and decided to take out her cell phone and pretend she
was calling home to her husband, who was obviously really not at home and at work. She started
saying things like “Oh, I’m on the elevator and about to get off. Can you get the door
for me?” and making it seem like her husband was waiting at home.
When the elevator did reach her floor (I think she lived on like the 12th floor or something)
she quickly got off and grabbed her daughter and started to walk as fast as she could to
her apartment. She noticed that the man also got off on her floor and was slowly following
her down the hallway. When my mom’s friend got to her door, she started to bang on it
and shout, “Hey, yeobo (husband/dear), I’m home! Please open the door!” And kind of pretended
like he was coming to answer the door. Upon seeing this, the man in the yellow raincoat
started to walk away back towards the elevator. When he seemed to be far away enough, my mom’s
friend quickly picked up her daughter and slid open her door’s passcode thingy (this
is usually how people get into their homes in Korea) and started to frantically punch
in her keycode. But the problem was that the buttons would make sounds so the man knew
that no one was going to answer the door for her and he turned around and started to run
back towards her. My mom’s friend, at this point, was practically screaming and when
she finally got her door to open, the first thing she did was throw her daughter in through
the door. When she got in herself, she saw that the man was pretty much inches from the
door, but she managed to shut it and lock it before he could wedge his hand or weapon
into the door. Afterwards, looking through the door’s peep hole, she saw that the man
was walking away back towards the elevator. Several months later, my mom’s friend was
watching the news and there was a coverage on the capture of a serial killer named Yoo
Young Chul who used to kill a lot of prostitutes. She told my mom that she could never forget
the dread she felt when she saw the too familiar yellow raincoat and hat that he was wearing
when apprehended. I’ll leave his wikipedia page in the description
for anyone who’s curious. When I was 19 I worked for a company that
allocated labour to rural areas of Australia. Basically what you did was tell them when
you were available, and they’d send you to a remote farm for a few weeks where you’d
do whatever they needed done. It was hard work and long hours, but good pay and good
fun if you got in with a nice group of workers. When this occurred, I was working on a large
property (I was told it covered roughly the same landmass as the state of Maryland USA)
about 9 hours from Sydney city, and the property itself was about 40 minutes from the nearest
town. In short, it was the middle of nowhere. I was working at the farm clearing bushland
with 3 other guys my age from the city, our boss was a guy called Jeremy who owned the
farm and supervised us while helping out with the work. He was pretty laid back, and was
generally really good to us. This summer in particular was very hot, and the work was
hard, so one day when the temperature hit about 38 degrees Celsius (about 100 Fahrenheit)
Jeremy decided to give us the afternoon off. He said he knew of a water hole on the farm
about a 25 minute drive north, I was keen for a swim but the other guys just wanted
to relax for the arvo, so him and I hopped in one of the work trucks and started heading
across the property. It was mostly wide, empty expanses with a few clumps of scattered bushland.
Jeremy wasn’t much of a talker, so we drove more or less in silence. After about 20 minutes
however, he suddenly perked up and jabbed me in the ribs;
“do you see that over there… beneath the two dead trees?”
I should mention here that if you’re not familiar with inland areas, particularly those in Australia,
they are brown or red, and mostly flat and bland, meaning any bright colours stick out
like a sore thumb, so you can imagine our surprise when we could see a large blue angular
structure far off in the distance. We steered in it’s direction, and as we got closer we
realised it was a huge blue shipping container just sitting in the middle of nowhere. Jeremy
was perplexed, I asked him if he knew what it was but he obviously didn’t. He said he
hadn’t seen it when he drove through the same area about 5 weeks before, and he wanted to
go and see what it was. Initially we pulled to a stop about 100 meters
away from it. At this stage I had a really bad feeling, the whole thing wasn’t right,
its hard to explain, but if you can imagine seeing such a foreign object in the middle
of a huge barren expanse, it had to be something weird. Jeremy however wanted to investigate,
which I understood, given it was his property, but in truth I was really anxious.
As we got closer, things got even more bizarre. There was a big diesel generator behind it
thumping away, and a CCTV camera on each side, all motion activated so they buzzed from side
to side, following us as we moved around. I tried to reason with Jeremy, something along
the lines of “with all this security, someone obviously doesn’t want us here, lets just
go”. He brushed me off however, reminding me it was his farm and whoever had put this
here was trespassing, so he wanted to go inside. Despite all the surveillance, there was only
a small padlock on the huge door. We had some bolt-cutters in his toolbox, and after a bit
of a struggle, we broke the lock and went inside.
The first thing I noticed was the rush of cold air as we got in, the place was air-conditioned,
which I must admit was quite pleasant on such a hot day. We searched around for a light
switch, but I could already see this was some sort of I.T set up, there were flashing LEDs
all around the place and the sort of hum you hear when a hard drive is working hard. When
we finally switched on the lights, we could see a sophisticated (albeit somewhat cluttered)
office set up. There were hard drives the size of bar fridges and other computer equipment
lining the walls, sometimes piled 2 or 3 high, and plastic storage boxes scatter around the
far wall, and several desks with computer monitors arranged in the middle, complete
with rolling office chairs. At this stage I felt like I was in one of
those nonsensical dreams, this made absolutely no sense. We wandered to the middle and sat
down at the desks to see if the computers could give us any idea of what the hell was
going on here. My heart was racing and I just wanted to bolt, we had been seen by the CCTV,
so if anyone was monitoring they already knew we were here. Jeremy on the other was adamant
we had to get to the bottom of this, so I put on a brave face and started looking through
the computer. This went on for a while, but in short neither of us had a very high grasp
of technology outside of Facebook and Microsoft Word. The best I can describe it from my lay
position is that it was endless lists of “computer talk”, it was like the old Napster or Limewire
download screens looked like, just constantly picking up and receiving data then recording
it on several windows. I gave up on the computers and walked cautiously
over the far end of the container to the big pile of storage boxes. By then I was pretty
sure no-one else was there as there was nowhere to hide really, but I was still incredibly
on edge. I decided, against my better judgment to see what was inside all these boxes. My
brief sift through this box still makes me feel sick to the stomach.
It didn’t take long for me to realise that the this box was full of posters, DVDs and
photos, all of hard core child pornography. One thing that still gets to me is that it
was all neatly ordered in to folders and smaller boxes… These people were organised. I immediately
recoiled, jumped up and ran over to Jeremy. I could hardly string a sentence together,
I said something to the effect of “mate, get out, child sex, go, get the fuck up!”. I dragged
him out, composed myself and managed to explain what I saw.
We jumped back in to the truck and sped back to the house. The farm had no mobile phone
reception, and we hadn’t bought the satellite phone so we had to get back to the landline
to call the police. Once we called them they still had to make it all the way to the farm
from the nearest police station, which was in a town about a half hour from the town
closest to the farm (as I mentioned, very remote). We waited, talking frantically about
what we’d seen, until the cops arrived almost an hour later. They arrived with 2 four wheel
drives, and we jumped in and led them back. This is where it gets worse…
By the time we got back, the container door was open and there was fire inside. We had
only two small extinguishers in the cars, and these did very little. The fire department
took an hour to get there, by which stage most of the damage was already done. An arson
report by the federal police found almost no evidence of the computer equipment described,
and only traces of paper and cardboard. This means that whoever ran it, knew we were there
and had time to come and remove most of it and get away. There were various ways to get
off the property and the landmass was huge, so there was no real way to tail them. Since
the police hadn’t taken us all too seriously in the first instance, probably due to our
poor explanation on the phone, aerial surveillance was also impossible by the time we had pieced
it all together. I took a keen interest in following it up,
but with no real evidence of who might be responsible, the investigation went cold.
I’ve kept in contact with Jeremy, and the shipping container is still sitting there
on the farm, as its too expensive to move. I’ll never forget what I saw in those boxes. To give some background information, this
event occurred a little over a year ago, and I still haven’t been able to even begin
to get over it. I’m a 22 year old 5’4 female, and at the time I was 21. My family
and I had recently moved to a new town that was a fair amount more rural than the town
I had previously lived in, and our new house was a large ranch-style house with a basement.
I was home from college, and my parents had left for the week to celebrate their wedding
anniversary with their friends who lived several hours away. Before I continue, I’ll give a quick layout
of the house so that you’ll be able to imagine the setting a bit more clearly. There were
3 doors which led into the house. One on the front porch, a sliding glass door on the back
porch (which did have a lock and floor-length curtains for privacy), and another door on
the other side of the wall from my bedroom which led into the garage and basement. When
you walk out of my bedroom and turn, you can see all the way across the house (kitchen,
living room, dining area) to the door of my parents bedroom and the stairs leading up
from the basement. It had been a few days since my parents left,
and I hadn’t had any problems. They had sent me a couple messages on Facebook letting
me know that they arrived to their friend’s house safely, and were having a good time.
The day had gone well, and I was sure to check that I’d locked all the doors of the house
once the sun started to go down. It was about 11pm and I was doing my nightly
routine of laying in bed and messing around on the computer when I suddenly got this sinking
feeling of dread. I felt as if I was being watched. It was summer and we didn’t have
A/C, so I had a large box fan in the window blowing the cool night air into my stiflingly
hot room. But once that feeling settled over me, I decided that I should remove the fan
and close the window, just in case. Once removing the fan, shutting and locking
the window, and pulling down the curtain I felt a bit better. However, I still couldn’t
shake the feeling of dread. I lay back in bed and tried to continue what I was doing,
though I didn’t put my headphones back on. After a few minutes, I began to hear something
that sounded like light scratching. I sat still in bed, listening to the sound,
trying to pinpoint what it was and if I recognized it at all. Our new house, although relatively
close in distance to our neighbors, had a fair amount of forest around it. So, I thought
the scratching may have been an animal, or someone’s dog that got loose and wanted
to come inside. After a few minutes the scratching stopped, and everything returned to silence.
So, I figured that I was probably right and that it must have been an animal. My relief
was short-lived, as soon after the scratching stopped, from the other side of the wall I
began to hear slow footsteps descending into the basement. This is when I knew I was completely fucked.
There was no way I could get out of the house without walking past the basement stairs.
We didn’t have a house phone, and at the time I was in the process of getting a new
cell-phone because mine was broken beyond repair. I sat there for a few seconds wondering
what the hell I should do. I knew that I would need to get out of the house as soon as possible,
and that the more time I wasted the worse it would be for me. I contemplated popping the screen out of my
bedroom window and jumping out, but it was far enough off the ground that there was a
good chance I would end up getting hurt if I did. Not to mention that if I jumped out
the window and hurt myself, I wouldn’t be able to run for help and I would be right
next to the door that whoever was in my house had gone in through. So, I decided to very carefully and quietly
open my door and peek out around the corner, and if the coast was clear, I would make a
mad dash for the front door and sprint to my neighbors house. I very slowly opened my
bedroom door, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the house before creeping around
the corner and looking to see if I was safe to make a run for it. What I saw nearly made me vomit. As my eyes scanned the house, I noticed that
something was off. I squinted hard as I looked over at the basement stairs, and was able
to make out the shape of a man. What made it worse? He wasn’t just standing at the
top of the stairs, he was fucking crawling up them like some kind of nightmare creature.
I quickly backed into my room again, shutting and locking the door as quietly as I could.
I didn’t think he’d seen me, but there was no way that I was going to make a run
for it now. My only choice was to pop the screen and jump out the window. As I was unlocking and opening my window,
I heard the handle to my bedroom door turn. Once the man realized that it was locked,
in a sickeningly sweet “sing-song” voice he cooed, “I know you’re in there…”
This was followed by a loud cackle and what I can only imagine was him throwing himself
at full force against my door. I ripped the screen out of the window and
flung myself out. I landed wrong on my right foot, and I was
sure that I’d hurt my ankle, but at the time I couldn’t think of anything other
than getting as far away as possible. I got up and ran as fast as I could to my neighbor’s
house, knocking on their door in a panicked frenzy and ringing the bell over and over.
I looked over at my house as I was yelling for my neighbors to let me in, and I swear
to fucking god, I could see the man standing at my window… waving at me. My neighbors finally opened the door after
what felt like forever and I managed to explain well enough what was going on for them to
let me in and call the police. I stayed with them until the police arrived. The police
searched my house and found that the lock to the basement had been picked, and that
the door to my bedroom was hanging off the hinges. They weren’t able to find the man
anywhere, and because I had only seen him for a split second in the dark, I couldn’t
provide them with a good description of him. Of course, I got into contact with my parents
immediately and they hurried home. The police took my statement and searched the area for
the man, but of course they came up with nothing. After this event, my parents and I were sure
to add deadbolt locks to the door leading into the basement and to the door leading
out of the basement to the rest of the house, they also helped me pay to get a new phone.
What really bothers me about all of this is that nothing was stolen, there wasn’t even
any evidence that the guy had looked through anything while he’d been in my house.

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