Monday, December 16, 2013

Sleeping In Your Car is A Bad Idea

These events occurred in September of 2011, when I was 19 years old. I am a male.

Growing up I was always a bit of an intellectual, and I liked doing tests and experiments on myself. Weird things that other people wouldn't find interesting, you know. I would see how many consecutive hours I could stay up without falling asleep, or see how long I could go without eating before minor hunger pains set in, things like that. It sounds extreme, I know, but it really wasn't. It never got out of control.

For some reason, when I was 19, I became fascinated with the homeless, and what it would be like to be homeless. It was a concept I simply couldn't get my head around; not having someplace to go to when the day was over seemed so foreign.

I decided I wanted to experience it somehow. I wanted the experience to be as authentic as possible, but obviously, still safe. I decided to pack up my car with essentials like water, dry cereal, stuff like that. I drove from where I grew up in central Florida all the way to the middle of Arkansas, in its capital city of Little Rock. It took me like 14 hours or something. I don't know if anyone is familiar with Little Rock, but it's very rural for being the largest city in the entire state. I wanted to be far enough away from home that I couldn't chicken out, to make things more authentic. I brought just enough money for gas and potential emergencies. The plan was to live in my car for two weeks in a large, nearly empty parking lot outside of the Bill Clinton Presidential Library. I made an audio entry into my phone describing the days events for the first few days, but stopped after it got boring. For the first week or so, nothing really happened. I went in the library to use the bathroom, etc, and slept in my car at night. I listened to the radio and played guitar, just trying to fill the days with something. The nights were a little frightening, because I could sometimes see "real" homeless people and suspicious looking characters walking around the parking lot outside my car. I started to feel a sense of dread every day when I saw the sun setting. One night after I'd been there about a week, things got really scary.

I was sleeping in the drivers seat, with the seat reclined all the way in the back. I went to sleep about 11. I woke up at 12 when I heard a car pull up next to me. I ignored it and kept my eyes closed, trying to fall back asleep. I had my windows cracked half an inch for ventilation. I heard the window of the car come down and a voice said "Hey, man." I don't know how he even saw me in there. I straightened up and saw a white male, about 30 years old with a baseball cap on. He looked very thin. When he had my attention, he spoke in a slightly southern accent. "Hey man, what are you doing out here?" I gave him a half asleep look as if to say "what do you think?" He started looking at me funny. "So you're just spending the night here?" I nodded and he looked at me for a few more seconds before saying "alright, man." And driving away. I didn't think to much of it, I even thought maybe he was a concerned citizen and I went back to sleep.

About thirty minutes pass and I hear a car pull up next to me again. Guess what, same guy. He looks at me weird again. I look at him like "just leave me alone." He rolls down his window and says "Hey man, I'm looking for somebody around here. Somebody with a big dick. You know anybody like that?" At that point I'm really pissed because I think he's playing a joke at my expense. I look at him like "What the hell?" He looks really serious but I just continue to glare at him. He says "Alright, man, sorry." He waits about a minute and drives off again.

Obviously, at this point I should have left, but I didn't know any other place to park, and I was really tired, so I just went back to sleep. Big mistake. The parking lot was absolutely deserted at this time. It's a huge parking lot, so there was no one even close to being within earshot of he and I.

A while later I wake up but I can tell it's still dark outside, so I'm still trying to sleep. I hear a tiny little sound like someone is scratching at the outside of my car. I crack my eyes and see the man standing outside my car. But that's not all. There are four other men standing outside my car. I realize the sound I hear is them quietly trying to open my car doors without waking me. To my horror, I notice that one of the men has his penis out and is jerking it around as if trying to get it hard.

At this point, one of them notices and yells, "HE'S AWAKE!" They all start banging on the windows screaming at me as I fumble with the keys, trying to start the car. They're screaming calling me names and telling me about how they're gonna "run a train" on me and rape me. I'm totally freaked out and get the car started right away. Luckily, all my doors were locked. They're all jumping on the car and I reverse so quickly, I can hear body parts crunch under a tire and someone screaming in pain. As I backed up I saw one man's leg was crumpled in half. One of them was still on top of the car, pounding on the windshield and I just kept going, I left the parking lot and started towards the highway before he finally jumped off, screaming obscenities at me as if I was the one who'd done something wrong. I'm shaking and I can feel my eyes bulging out of my face.

Suddenly wide awake, I drove how ever many hours straight until I got to my Aunts house in Atlanta. I never told anyone the whole story until now. It feels good to tell you guys. I've thought about it so many times. I've never felt so terrified by anything, real or fake, in my life. Just knowing there are people out there so evil. It's unsettling.

Thank you for reading about my experience and stay safe! Obviously, living in your car if you have other options is incredibly stupid.

EDIT I found two photos on my phone that I took a few days before this happened. They're both in the day time, before anything really scary happened. I just thought I'd upload them to give a tiny bit of context. One is of a small part of the parking lot, and one is of my car. I think the white stuff on the ground by my car is toothpaste by the way XD

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Strange Woman in the Washroom

I was working after closing at my retail job, and it was a pretty stormy night. The roads were all ice and snow, and there really wasn't many customers in through out the evening.

About 5 minutes after the store closed and all the lights went off (just the dim ones remained on along with the emergency lights) I finished cleaning up the section I was working in, and suddenly had to run to the washroom (worst bladder ever!)

The washroom is located in a far corner of the store down a hallway, and there was no one else around.

Being the scaredy cat I am, I always get a bit freaked out going back there after closing when not many other workers are present, but I couldn't deny my bladder.

I made my way down the dark corridor and into the brightly lit bathroom. Upon entering, I spotted a very tall lanky blonde women, who did not work at my store in the very back of the bathroom.
She was probably about 6'3 or so, very thin, and was wearing yoga clothing with her hair pulled tightly back. Something about her gave me the creeps.

When she our eyes met and I smiled at her, she gave me one of the most hateful looks I have ever received from another human being. There was something sinister about it... My gut told me to run, but I really had to pee...

Other than her, the bathroom was empty. There is about 12 stalls, so I hopped in the one closest to the door.

After going in, I heard her walking towards the exit door. I let out a sigh of relief, until she stopped before the door, right in front of my stall.

"Oh, she is just using the mirror" I thought. Wrong. She was standing, FACING my stall. She just stood there silently.

At this point I was a bit upset. I mean, what could she want, and why was she there? The store was closed and all customers were either at the cash register or already left, and every other stall was available.

I finished using the washroom and waited. I don't know what she was doing, but she started knocking on my stall door in a rhythm.

I asked her if she needed something, but she didn't respond. She just stood there, silently knocking on the door.

I was petrified with fear. I asked her again... still no response. Instead she started knocking louder.
This went on for about 5 minutes, of her just standing there, occasionally knocking.. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, when suddenly, without saying a word she just left.
I waited for a couple of minutes, then bolted to the sink, washed my hands, and ran like hell without drying them.

When I made it out of the bathroom, she was no where to be seen, and I didn't see her for the rest of the night. I asked one of my co-workers if she saw anyone like her, and she said no.
I have no clue what the heck she wanted, or was doing, or why she was in the bathroom after closing. All I know is that I will NEVER go to the washrooms after closing alone again.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

It Happens

My dad did a pretty good job as a single father, but his work took him all over the world. I was sick of it, and Jim was going to graduate soon. It was decided that Jim and I would go stay with my Aunt Tammy in Random Hell Hole, Middle America.

I loved it. It always smelled nice, there were plenty of kids to hang out with, and I made some really good friends on the first day. One of the girls, Amber, remains a good friend to this day.
I had no trouble making new friends, a trait my brother Jim did not share.

Jim was trouble, he liked to smoke pot and drink alcohol. When we were with our dad, he never paid much attention to us. He worked, gave us spending money, and made sure we went to school. With Tammy, it was her way or the highway. Jim was to remain sober or he would have to find a new place to stay. He was 18, so she could legally send him away without the law doing anything about it.
At 15, I was in sports, got good grades, and obviously Tammy's favorite.

At first, Jim seemed to do well. He tried out for band, but was no accepted. He tried out for sports, drama, and ultimately did not receive the credit he felt he deserved. He bitched about it and said he was better than everyone in those clubs and they just didn't see his greatness.
Then he met Steve. Steve was 19 and had been held back.

Steve was not popular. He lacked personal hygiene, morals, and a filter. He was forbidden from coming over by Aunt Tammy, which caused Jimmy to gain even more of an attitude.

One day, Aunt Tammy caught Steve and Jim in the basement, smoking pot. I was at work and they had ransacked the whole house for money. Tammy threatened to call the police and Jim was out on the street. Jim, of course, called my dad. However, instead of siding with Jim, Dad agreed with Tammy.

Steve took Jim in and their party lifestyle continued. Jim dropped out of school and I didn't see him for almost six months. He showed up at the house, trying to use his old key to get in. Steve was with him and I called the police. Jim left before they got there, after discovering Tammy changed the locks.

Steve was still in school and tried to hit me up for money. I told him no. I found him trying to break into my locker a few times, which ended when I told the principal. Steve was suspended, and seemed to hold a grudge against me for being a snitch.

Jim must have told him where I worked, because he showed up at Subway a few times. Then he started messing with me, more than just being an asshole. He started to view me as "a female." That is what he told me, I should be his woman. I laughed in his face and told him to get real.
He was creepy, needy, and desperate.

Some of the things he did to me:
Showed up at Subway and asked for “extra meat” on his sandwich, asking for lots of cheese. Then, when he had to pay, he tried to convince my co-worker that we were dating and I always gave him a discount. My co-worker charged him full price, after I refused to come out of the back to talk to him.
He told people I blew him under the bleachers. Everyone laughed at him, because I pretty much vomited when he came near me and he smelled like garbage.

I finally told Aunt Tammy what was going on and she went down to the school. When they tried to ignore the problem, she threatened to go to the media. He was kicked out for sexual harassment.
Jim and Steve ended up leaving town for some reason. My cousin Terra told me about it online and I was relieved. I didn't see either of them until I was in my twenties.

It became a rather interesting story to share with my peers, to show I had 'street cred.'
I went away for college, but returned after my graduation. Tammy had been sick for a long time. My dad was remarried and lived in South Dakota. He was trying his hand at cattle farming, or some boring crap like that. Tammy had become the mother I never knew, the only parent that really mattered. My dad was more like an uncle, my aunt like a mother. He had become a bit of a bastard after his new wife learned I could think for myself and didn't kiss the ground she walked on.
Aunt Tammy passed when I was 22. I inherited some money, her house, and her car. After paying her bills, there was a bit left to live on. I went to work at one of the local schools and kept in touch with my cousins (on my mom's side.)

Jim got nothing, didn't even show up for the funeral. I am pretty sure no one told him she died. I had no way to reach him and didn't want him to ruin the funeral anyways.

When I was 23, Jim and Steve came back into town. Jim swung by the house but left after finding out his old key didn't work. I am pretty sure he thought new people lived there, I had repainted the home and changed the decor inside, not liking the 1950s look my aunt was fond of.

He tried coming by a few more times, but then he stopped. I wash hoping they wouldn't find out I was still in town but I wasn't so lucky. Steve stumbled into the coffee shop I favored. He wanted black coffee and looked ten years older. He obviously got into harder drugs, because his mouth looked like a graveyard. He was missing teeth and looked sickly.

He saw me and tried to hug me. I balked and one of the workers told him to move on. He just watched me from outside the window. He rushed off when another man walked me out to my car.
Veronica sent out a facebook invite to her wedding party. She had a civil ceremony and was inviting us to see the wedding video and honeymoon pictures. It was supposed to be very small and intimate, with about twenty people. More showed up and we ordered pizza, bought more beer, and spent the time playing drinking games and teasing the newly wed couple. Most people lived up the mountain, but Veronica told me to spend the night.

I was pretty tipsy and agreed.

Around midnight, Jim showed up with Steve in tow. The party was still going strong, most people having just arrived at 10.

Veronica answered the door. She started arguing with Jim. I looked down the hallway and there is Steve, standing beside Jim, looking smug. He sees me and heads down the hall, not bothering to even introduce himself to anyone. Veronica is telling them to leave and Jim ignores her.

Jim goes for a beer and sits outside, looking off down the mountain. People tolerate the new people, mostly because they are drunk and no one wants to upset Veronica, who seems resigned to them being there. Jim doesn't look very good. He looks older, sad, and he starts crying when Veronica's husband, Todd, asks him to leave.

He moans that he just wants to watch the sunset. He is out of his mind, talking about how the trees are whispering to him. He is left to his craziness and the only concern is Steve.

He stands in the kitchen, trying to top off my wine, and rubbing my shoulder. I keep jerking away and tell him to back off. Todd’s friend, Devin, ends up standing between us. Steve gets upset and tells Devin we are together. Devin smirks and asks me if that is true. I tell him no, I am single, and Steve was the last choice.

Steve storms off, outside, and smokes on the porch even though Veronica tells him not to.
I can tell it is pot smoke. One of the girls, who is pregnant, asks him to stop. She is one of the few designated drivers and has been careful not to be around anything harmful the whole night. She has a water in her hand and her boyfriend goes up to ask Steve to stop.

Steve takes a swing and falls off the back of the porch, landing five feet down with his arm at a weird angle. They call the cops and he is taken away, Jim in tow. Veronica looks ready to cry, but I tell her not to worry about it. We all had a good time. Jim is just retarded.

At this point, it is about 3 am and I am sobering up. Devin and I hit it off. We get serious, he moves in with me after dating for two years, and we have a few Jim+Steve incidents. Mostly them asking for money.

Steve and Jim end up in jail for drug possession and it is the best time of my life. Devin asks me to marry him and we have a small ceremony planned.
It goes well.

Devin is given the option of moving for his job. I don’t want to sell the house just yet—it was filled with memories. We agree to rent it out while we make our choice.

We look for a new home, move to New York, and find a cute little apartment. We are making enough money off the rental property that we think it best to keep renting it out. Amber moves out and another couple moves in.

They start calling about strange sounds in the attic. It sounds like someone scrapping things across the attic. Since it was locked, as we were storing things in there, we sent them the key and said they could look.

There, in the middle of the room, is Steve. He had been living in there for the last two weeks. He had food, flashlights, and had been going through old pictures of me. It happens.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Boogieman's Victim and The Canadian Serial Killer

 {Here are two fine stories from Weird_Dad

The Boogieman's Victim

This was also a few years ago but more recent than the other two - about a year after Toronto. It was 4am, I'm in Koreatown with my best friend at the time, and we are riding up the elevator to the now-closed bar of J'z - and when the elevator gets up to the top, the doors open but they say they are closed for the night, and a lady who seems sober gets on with us. We start making conversation. She speaks English well but seems to be foreign - perhaps German. She is older than us by probably 8 years. Her name is something like Zoe. Zoe tells us she is house-sitting for a friend nearby and she could take us there and we could all drink there. It seems too random to not be fun, so we go along with it. We end up in this apartment that looks like a giant Buddhist shrine. We drink, my friend's girlfriend comes and joins us, and Zoe starts talking about something she just calls "my project" cryptically until finally she shows us - it is a book, something of a cartoon. Oh, and it's about how the leaders of the world are the elders of Zion and the Illuminati and how they are all lizard people wearing human skin and that they control us with the media and chemicals in the water and radio waves. But other than that, totally normal book, right? Somehow my friend and his gf end up having sex on the homeowner's bed and I end up on the floor of the Buddhist shrine room, cuddling with a conspiracy theorist, who seems a little out of her mind. She moves me hand onto her breast over her shirt, which I'm not super thrilled about, but am okay with, being drunk and single and less mature or experienced than I am now. But I'm not sure I want anything else to happen and she leaves it there, as sort of an, "okay, your move" which I don't make. In the morning, we get up, say our goodbyes, and she seems much more awkward, and just a little more "off" than the night previous. Fast forward about a week. 4am. I get a phone call - I didn't remember leaving her my number but I must have, unless she took it from my phone while I slept. She says, "The boogieman is here." it takes me a minute to realize it's her, but given her accent I pick it up quickly. "The boogieman is here with me. Will you come save me from the boogieman?" This wasn't playful, she spoke with a very serious tone. I was extremely creeped out. The boogieman is here? "Yes, and if you come fast you can save me." I got off the phone. Fast forward another week, I'm buying groceries. I walk out of the store, and there she is, right outside. She says to me, "You didn't save me from the boogieman." I played it off like a joke. "They're my one weakness." She doesn't smile and I never saw her again.

The Canadian Serial Killer
So, years ago I was in Toronto, bumming around, performing music with a talented street musician I met and his (ambiguously mail-order) bride from the Philippines. One day, while performing some hits by The Who and Nirvana on the street, a guy walks up to us, covered head to toe in tattoos, looking very hairy, and likely in his 50s. Some of them are clearly prison tattoos (including a teardrop or two) and many of them are related to his enjoyment of Satanic imagery and the music of Ozzy Osbourne, he explained. After we finished a song, he told the guitarist that he really shreds but I gotta be angrier if I'm gonna sing Cobain. Nonplussed at the insult, he tries to make amends and talk to us for a longer time by cracking open a couple cans of something in a little plastic bag he is carrying with him - it's two six packs of Clamato - tomato & clam juice. He says he got it with "someone's disability check." We share some of this gross but welcome refreshment over the course of an hour, as he starts talking about music but then moves on to talking about being in prison, and being in Vietnam. He talked about witnessing horrors come to young children and having a daughter who he couldn't see anymore (in fact, he made it seem like she may no longer be living). He then came in real close and said that the cops never caught him for the real bad shit he was doing... Murdering pedophiles. He didn't say how he found them, nor how he proved they were pedophiles, and I got a sinking feeling that these were possibly just people he had hunches about. He talked about how now he was back out of prison, he was doing it again, and I believed him - he was crazy as fuck and built like a brick wall. He talked about his first kill as a GI in Vietnam and how easy killing is once you start.


Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Summer Buddy

I was 12 years old. It was Summertime and temperatures quite often reached up to and slightly over 120°F/49°C outside. Needless to say I spent a considerable amount of time indoors, enjoying a comfortably controlled climate, away from school. My Mother worked during the daytime for the majority of that Summer. Consequentially I spent most of it alone, playing pogs, masturbating to the Mexican TV station, sorting my Marvel Masterpiece cards alphabetically, &c.

A few weeks into my vacation and the calls began. The phone would ring around noon. The first few times I answered with a standard "Hello", received no response and simply hung up. After two or three of these incidences I began answering all noontime calls in silence, slowly cupping my hand over the receiver, just listening. Silence. Just... nothing. I would hang up after a few seconds.
The frequency of these calls began to increase as did their regularity. Two weeks later almost every afternoon I'd either ignore the ringing phone, or quietly pick up and listen. My mute answering tactic was partly psychological, partly investigatory; In an act of defiance I met this callers silence with silence of my own, while attempting to gather any kind of auditory cues as to who this could possibly be. On rare occasions I could make out some background noise, the sound of a TV or even a quick bit of muffled breathing, but mostly just silence.

At this time cell phones were the size of shoeboxes and extremely rare. I'd seen a photograph of one only once or twice before. It was years before Caller ID, *69 (feature on phones which would call back the last number you got a call from), so I had no resources to aid me in identifying who this was. I became convinced it must be a bored classmate cooped up inside their house, trying to entertain themselves by crank calling me, however the consistency of the calls began to push this into a new unsettling territory beyond conventional types of prank behavior, as five or six weeks had passed since the first few calls, and they were an absolute daily occurrence at this point.
Creepy as this situation was, I never felt the need to mention it to my Mother, neighborhood friends, or anybody else for that matter. There was nothing to say simply because nothing was being said, and this was also my opportunity to play the role of the protagonist in a sort of makeshift preteen whodunnit - just what I needed to spice up a boring Summer!

Still, slight anticipatory pangs of anxiety began to set in every afternoon knowing the ring which would always come, followed by unsettling silence, or stifled breath. I had begun to get very frustrated and this led to anger. It was bizarre. Why would this person call around the same time every single day and never say anything? I couldn't understand their motivation and it had gone on too long now. It wasn't funny. Sometimes I would pick up, stand and listen for three or four minutes in complete silence before hanging up, and it would always be me who disconnected first. If I didn't answer, they would continue to call back until I did. When I finally did, they wouldn't call back. Until the next afternoon of course.

So after almost seven weeks of this, I answered the afternoon call with a moment of silence and then burst into a rage. I began insulting the caller, asking "what the hell is wrong with you?" As I continued on my tirade I glanced at the clock. It was exactly 12:15 so I finished with something along the lines of: "It's 12:15 in the afternoon on a Saturday in the middle of Summer and you seriously have nothing better to do than this? You have no friends? You have no life, you're a loser. Goodbye asshole!"

After I'd hung up the telephone I became aware that my body was shaking. My adrenaline was pumping. I Hadn't planned that, but I just didn't know what else to do. I had to try something. I was fed up with this situation, and I just let it out. It kind of felt good, and surprisingly nobody called the following afternoon. The next few days there were no calls either. In fact, from that point on the calls had stopped completely. I was shocked! I had shamed them into leaving me alone. I still speculated as to who it was or could be, and part of me regretted not cracking the case but my relief outweighed my curiosity. A few more days passed. No calls. I tried not to think about it too much and enjoyed the remaining couple weeks of my Summer vacation.

School started up again. After a few weeks of good old fashioned homework, bullying, and camoflauging my spontaneous erections in class, the whole creepy caller thing pretty much seemed relatively unimportant. I had a few thoughts now and then as to which kid it might have been, but it was complete speculation. I had never even heard the callers voice, or really gathered any kind of clues as to who it might be so I let it go.

Seven or eight weeks into the school year, I woke up early on a Saturday morning, proceeded to eat copius amounts of breakfast cereal, watch cartoons, then went outside to play, as the now bearable weather afforded me the opportunity to do so. Around noon I came inside to eat a snack.
I still remember this moment fairly vividly. I sat at the counter in the kitchen where the phone was plugged into the wall, eating some kind of snack while my Mother was washing a few dishes in the sink. The phone rang. Her hands were soapy, I was near the phone so I answered. I picked up the phone with a loud "Hello?"

There were a couple seconds of silence and then an adolescent males voice announced: "Heyyyy! It's me -- your Summer buddy! 12:15 - remember?" I looked at the clock and it was exactly 12:15. I was absolutely shocked. I couldn't say anything. I looked at my Mother. She seemed to be oblivious to the fact that the phone even rang, as she looked intently down at the dishes she was now rinsing. I quickly hung up the phone.

-Thunder Builder

Close to Home (with audio)

As a bit of background I live in a fairly large house with four other people. We all study at the same university. One of my housemates, Gabi, is my best friend so she always sleeps in my bed. We're both girls and she's tiny, about 5'3" and 110 lbs, I'm 5'10" and about 145 but still not very strong.
About a month ago we got a new housemate called Joaquin. For three weeks he was completely normal. He was tidy and considerate and even made us dinner one night.

Then last week things started to get a bit weird. He would put really dark sunglasses on and stare at himself in the mirror for up to 20 minutes at a time. He would laugh to himself and ignore any questions we asked him.

At one point we were playing ring of fire and we turned around to see him sumo squatting in the middle of the room with his sunglasses still on seemingly in a trance. We all laughed it off as we'd been smoking and just thought he was really high.
At around midnight he took his dinner and went to the bottom of the garden, still wearing his sunglasses.

When he came back he would continuously find ways to try to touch up Gabi. If she changed the music on the laptop he'd stand behind her and pull her on to his lap or stroke her back. When she/we told him to leave her alone he'd stop until the next time she was nearby.

That was also the day he started taking knives from the kitchen and walking around the house with them. He had a little red pen knife that went every where with him too.

A few days later my friend Chelsey came to visit. While Gabi, Chels and I were in the kitchen he came in and stared at us for a long time. He wouldn't break eye contact or smile or even speak. He then began getting behind Gabi and rubbing his crotch against her bum. She would push him off and we would all shout at him but he was totally unfazed. Even when I pulled him off he started doing it again not ten seconds later.

We decided to just leave the room as he was determined to be a perve. Ten minutes later he came in to my room and wouldn't leave, insisting that i had invited him in. I told him that obviously I hadn't but he wouldn't go. I stood up to try to push him out but he just did that death stare, emotionless and freaky. Then Chelsey started walking towards him and he wondered off. After that I locked my door at all times.

The next morning I unlocked my door to go to the toilet for a maximum of thirty seconds. When I returned he was in my bed under the covers. I told him to get the fuck out of my room and he just said "sorry, is it a problem?". I told him obviously it was and repeated to get the fuck out of my room. (Yes, I have a foul mouth). He kept asking me questions trying to stay in my bed but I just kept telling him to get out of my fucking room and he finally did.

I went to university and after two hours got a call from Gabi. She was crying her eyes out telling me that he had stolen her room key when he'd come in to my room and she'd gone in to find him there. He'd dumped all his stuff on her bed and taken her zippo, her late grandfather's watch, multiple accessories and an earring that was in one of her drawers.

When she took everything back and tried to lock him out she realized that he had stolen her room key from the set of keys. He kept lying saying he hadn't taken them for about ten minutes until he caved.
She called our other housemate Beth upstairs to keep him away whilst she got ready for uni. Beth had to physically stand between them as she brushed her teeth as he would follow her everywhere. He also stared at her through the crack of her door while she got changed.

That evening my housemate Gabi and I were locked in my room when Beth knocked on the door. When I went to open it Joaquin came sprinting up the stairs and shoved his foot between the door and the door frame. Again he refused to leave and if we said anything he would make eye contact for like thirty seconds. Fucking creepy!

We kept trying to physically push him out but with his foot in the door we couldn't close it so I swung the door open and shoved him hard so he went reeling backwards.

That night he came outside my door and started saying " can't stay there forever, get out! Who do you think you are?! Jesus Christ? Well I killed him and I'll kill you too". Here's a recording (

I don't know why I didn't call the police there and then, I think we just didn't know what to do. We're young girls and hadn't really been in such a weird situation before.

The next day we called the landlord and told him we wanted to speak about something so he told us to come over at 7PM. Except Joaquin came home at ten to seven and went straight to my room. Just laughing really loudly and being generally freaky. I called the landlord to pick us up and as soon as he came upstairs Joaquin went in to his room.

The landlord took us to the police station where they told us that they couldn't do anything unless we rang them when it was actually happening. (The police that attended us later told us that was complete bullshit and they could have arrested him).

So we went home to wait in my room like bait. Sure enough after half an hour he started slamming his body against my door trying to gain access. I rang the police and they came after fifteen minutes. In that time he was laughing manically, moaning behind the door and exhaling smoke from his joint through my key hole.

Once the police arrived we unlocked my door. He had set up camp with multiple pillows, slippers, an ashtray and those weird ass sunglasses. Creepy as fuck.

I've gone to stay with my parents but have to return to university/work tomorrow morning. He was charged with four counts of sexual assault Friday morning but has been released. No one knows where he is and his parents are coming over from Spain to locate him. I'm scared shitless but I can't stop living my life over this, hopefully they'll find him and help him as i'm sure this was some sort of psychotic episode. Whatever happens I just hope he stays away from us...

(Alone at Night Staff Note:  The man terrorizing the author of this story sounds like he may suffer from some sort of mental disorder. Linked here is an audio recording of what schizophrenics may hear. Truly terrifying. )

Monday, December 2, 2013

House Broken into and Giant Footprints in the Snow

{Alone at night staff note: Sara has submitted a story to us before - about her creepy basement and the possible terror that occurred there before she bought the house. Read this story, and then consider reading Sara's other submission.
You know what's really scary? Really creepy? Really fucking unsettling and uncomfortable? Knowing someone was in YOUR home, invading YOUR privacy and YOUR personal space, touching YOUR belongings and doing it more then once. I think we can all relate to the story I am about to share because it is not some rare, random occurance. It didn't take place in some far off land, or in the middle of no where. It doesn't sound like it was ripped right out of the plot of some horror movie. This is something that happened to my mom who has lived in the same house for 15+ years, in a neighborhood where everyone knows each other and all of the houses are close together.
My mom had a room mate until just a few months ago. When her room mate moved out, my mom was on her own and she kind of liked it; until about 2 weeks ago. She went out of town for a weekend. While she was gone, I stopped by, got her mail, checked on the house. Everything was good the day before she got home. Well, the morning she got back, I got a frantic phone call from her letting me know that her house had been broken in. The a-holes busted in her front door and stole from her. So, this wasn't really scary in the traditional "scary" sense; only scary because people were in her home uninvited. It was also a pain and really inconvenient because then she had to deal with insurance and police and of course, feeling unsafe. So, everything got fixed. The door was better and safer then ever, although I don't think she felt 100% safe or comfortable.
So, today I get another frantic call from my mom that her house was broken into AGAIN last night. Except there was an element of concern and even more uneasiness in her voice. And of course I am already sick to my stomach, worried about my mom living on her own. But then she tells me the creepy part. This time the dbag broke in through the back door. They didn't steal anything, and as far as she can tell, they only went into one room; her bedroom. The reason she knew this was because the light in her bedroom was turned on and only one item had been disturbed. That item was her dresser drawer which held her personal garments. They dumped everything out and turned the drawer upside down. Creepy, right? Thank goodness my mom was not home. The police were able to track the giant footprints through the snow to an alley, but then they got muddled with all of the other sets of footprints. So, what do you do when you don't feel safe in your own home? When you feel like you got a message saying they'll be back?

(Alone at night staff note: one more link about how to prevent break-ins.)


Sunday, December 1, 2013

Creepy Art

Here is a link to a site that features several artists and their creepy work.