14x20: Trail of Blood

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Enjoy the show.

This happened to me almost two years ago, and I still get anxious thinking back about what happened in the summer of 2023.

It was the year I experienced my first success with my online business, which allowed me to start traveling in Europe while working and saving for my dream of buying farmland.

2023 started amazingly.

I lived a few months in Malta, then in Budapest, visiting friends who were studying abroad.

I'm originally from Germany.

I'm 32.

The first few destinations were a wonderful contrast to the miserable cold winters that drag on for months in Germany.

After having a tremendous time in Malta and Budapest, it was already the beginning of summer.

summer.

My final destination that summer was to visit a friend, we'll call him Ben.

He's about a year younger than me and currently studying medicine in Varna, which is located in the very east of Bulgaria.

It's an interesting place with a lot of Soviet-style, slightly run-down architecture, but it still has its charm as a beach town.

The people there are very nice, many of them are expats, and there are some beautiful spots.

I spent my days there enjoying the large parks near the beach and the beach itself, and its various cafes and clubs.

I met a lot of people and frequently went out to the beach clubs with them on the weekends.

It was a nice hot summer, and I was enjoying the trip until one particular night.

I was out with Ben and many of his university friends.

We partied all night, had a bunch of drinks, and danced for hours.

We were just enjoying enjoying ourselves during this wonderful summer night.

Since we had been out and about during the day before we started to party, I was feeling tired and decided to head home.

I should quickly mention the layout of the city.

It's quite unique.

Varna has a beach along its entire length, and, for the most part, there are very big parks stretching for kilometers along the beach before they lead to the city.

My rented apartment was slightly north west of the clubs, so it was roughly a 10 to 15 minute walk to get there, which I had done many times.

People had warned me about occasional attacks, muggings, and robberies, so they always suggested that I walk at least part of the way with someone.

I usually don't listen, though.

I just walked with my music playing while remaining wary of my surroundings.

That night, a few people, who were also tired, left with me.

They lived a bit more west, so I parted ways with them about five minutes into my walk back and continued alone with my music.

It must have been around 4 a.m.

when I reached a park that I usually crossed through.

This park was separated from the main beach parks, and it was closer to where I was living.

Being that it was summer and a weekend, there were still a few people walking around and driving even though it was 4 a.m.

So, when I entered the park, I wasn't shocked to see someone sitting on a bench about fifty meters ahead of me to my right.

He was sitting there, staring at his phone, and I remember the scene vividly.

Behind him were some bushes and trees, but as the lighting in the park was very sparse, I only noticed at the last moment that someone was approaching him from the bushes.

Once I walked into the park, I think that the guy sitting on the bench must have briefly looked up from his phone since he heard someone approaching.

From there, it all happened so fast.

I saw someone running out of the bushes with both hands raised over their head, holding a large rock.

He was sprinting at the guy who turned his head as he was still sitting on the bench.

Not immediately realizing the danger, I kept walking at first.

Then the guy who was on the bench screamed and ran straight out of the park, vaulting over another row of bushes and disappearing across the street.

I pulled off my headphones and stood there watching, not fully comprehending what was happening.

I'm not kidding when I say that all of this happened so fast.

Then the guy who had just tried to attack the guy on the bench turned to face me, still holding the rock.

A shiver ran down my spine as adrenaline rushed through me, urging me to run.

When he lifted the rock again, he smiled maniacally while running in my direction, so I turned and ran for my life.

He followed me for roughly two minutes.

I could still see him behind me even after crossing the street.

I ran around the block and was incredibly relieved to find a kebab shop that was still open.

When I rushed through their door, The people inside were shocked.

I couldn't speak straight, but I didn't need to say much as the psychopath came to the store and started bashing their window with a rock.

After he finally managed to break the glass, he ran away.

I waited for a moment before putting my earphones back on and walked home.

I was careful to avoid the park, and when I got home I was shaking as I locked every single door.

I couldn't sleep well, and the next morning I discovered I had fractured a tooth from grinding my teeth in my sleep.

I am forever grateful that this turned out okay.

I'm especially grateful for the timing, as I believe that that is what might have saved both me and the guy on the bench.

If I hadn't entered that park at that exact moment, the man on the bench might not have noticed his attacker in time.

While this was the scariest situation of my life, other than nearly drowning in the ocean one time, it really helped me learn that there are some situations that you cannot control.

So stay safe, people, and maybe don't walk in the park at 4 a.m.

alone in a foreign city.

This happened in 2006 when my brother and I were around 12 years old.

We were at my dad's and stepmom's house one afternoon.

It was around 3 p.m., so it was still broad daylight.

My brother and I were the only two people home because my dad, stepmom, and younger siblings were in a nearby town for their soccer game.

The two of us were lounging in my dad's room, which was located in the back of the house.

We were watching a movie when we heard a knock at the front door.

My brother and I grew up with our single mom.

We were latchkey kids, so being home alone and having people stop by wasn't concerning or weird for us.

Plus, back in those days, it was more common for friends to impulsively drop by to see if you were home, since not every kid had a cell phone to stay in touch.

But since we were at my dad's house, the knock was weird as we didn't know anyone in the neighborhood.

None of our friends or relatives lived close enough to come over randomly.

So both of us decided to ignore the knocking and wait for the person to go away.

But since it wasn't normal for people to stop by my dad's unexpectedly, my instinct was to go make sure that the door was locked.

We sure as hell knew better than to make our presence known, and we knew for damn sure we were not going to open the door, but I knew one of us needed to make sure that it was locked.

I knew my brother, and could tell that he wasn't going to do that, so I volunteered.

I got up and stealthily crept down the hallway leading from my dad's room to the front door.

There was a window next to the door, so I crouched, and very carefully peeked between the blinds before reaching out and twisting the door lock as silently as I could.

It was unlocked.

So I'm pretty damn glad that I went to check.

When I peeked out the window, I saw a middle-aged man.

He was slim and tall, but not overwhelmingly so.

The top of his head was bald, and he had some short salt and pepper hair wrapping around the sides of his head.

He had his hands behind his back, and I could tell he was holding a metal object in one of his hands.

I assumed it was a knife, but to this day I can't say for sure what he was holding.

He didn't see me looking at him through the window, or if if he did, he didn't let on to knowing that I was there.

By the way that the house was designed, the front door wasn't visible from the street because bushes and tall trees were blocking it.

My twelve-year-old heart sank, knowing this random guy was at the door with a metal object that he felt was necessary to put behind his back.

It was especially terrifying because I knew the man was not visible from the street and therefore could hide something behind his back without worrying about anyone passing by and seeing him.

At this point, normal paranoia became full on fight or flight.

I was in panic mode.

It was like a switch was flipped on from let me just go make sure the door is locked to holy shit, I think there's a guy with a knife at the door.

So I crept back to my dad's room and told my brother what I had seen.

He grabbed the house phone, phone, and before long he was speaking with my dad.

My dad immediately instructed us to let his dog buddy in from the backyard.

And let me tell you, in a situation of pure terror, having a big, loud dog was the only bit of hope and relief I had.

Having buddy there at least gave me a sense of having a chance.

From there, my brother and I locked ourselves in a bathroom by the front door.

I'm not sure why we decided to hide in the room that was closest to the guy outside, but I guess we panicked.

From inside the room, we called 911 while my brother clutched a kitchen knife.

Both of us were ugly crying and struggling to get words out to the operator.

While in the bathroom, I swear on my life, I heard the front door handle being twisted around, which would have meant that the guy was now trying to enter the house.

The bathroom was only seven feet from the front door, so I feel like I know what I heard.

To this day, I still have such a vivid memory of huddling in that bathroom, feeling truly helpless and out of control as to what might have happened next.

The only comfort was the noise of Buddy barking at the front door and knowing that if this guy decided to kick the door down, he'd have to deal with that huge dog.

Needless to say, I was really hoping Buddy would hold it down for us since I did not like our odds.

After a while, the cops arrived and my dad and stepmom arrived shortly thereafter.

They jumped in my stepmom's maroon minivan and drove 100 miles per hour to make the 15 mile drive as quick as possible.

The guy who was at the front door had gone by then so the cops took a look around and let us know that they'd be in touch if anything ever came of it.

My dad's theory is that the guy at the door was his neighbor coming over to complain since Buddy would always bark at him while he was doing yard work.

My dad thinks that the neighbor was trimming bushes and happened to come over with clippers or something in his hands.

However, if it were the neighbor, some things just don't make sense.

Why was he showing up when no cars were in my dad's driveway?

That also doesn't explain why the guy was trying to twist the handle and open the door to break in.

Either way, whether it was a random guy or the neighbor, the experience my brother and I had was as real as it gets.

One thing I learned from this is that perception is reality.

We felt like we were living a nightmare, and it was authentic and visceral because we believed something bad was going on.

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Today, we're exploring deep in the North American wilderness among nature's wildest plants, animals, and

cows.

Uh, you're actually on an Organic Valley dairy farm where nutritious, delicious, organic food gets its start.

But there's so much nature.

Exactly.

Organic Valley small family farms protect the land and the plants and animals that call it home.

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This happened close to 20 years ago.

I was visiting my parents at their house for a week sometime in late spring, early summer.

One morning, my mom woke me up and asked me to come out to the front yard to look at something for her.

Her tone tipped me off to the fact that she was a bit unnerved by whatever she had found.

When I joined her, she was standing at the end of our sidewalk.

She pointed to something where the sidewalk abutted the driveway and asked, Is this what I think it is?

It was a trail of drying blood.

I could see a few spatters of blood trailing out into the unpaved driveway, but they were hard to discern against the reddish clay color of the driveway.

I soon lost the trail, although the general trajectory was toward the road in front of the house.

The other end of the trail led down to where the sidewalk turned to run towards the gate between the house house and the garage.

Enough blood had been lost for there to be large splotches visible on the plants that bordered the sidewalks, as well as on the small patch of lawn between the sidewalk and the north side of the house.

The trail led to the holly hedge that grows next to the house.

Some of the branches on one side of the bushes were bent and broken, and the leaves were smeared with blood.

The soil beneath the holly bush had a sizable stain across it, maybe 10 to 12 inches.

The ivy on the fence next to the bush was also spattered, with some leaves entirely coated in blood.

For context, my parents' house is in a small town.

The house and garage are separated structures, with an ivy-covered chain-link fence running between the house and the garage to separate the front yard from the back.

The lot faces the main road that runs through town, and behind the lot is a street that runs north between their lot and a neighbor's house.

This street then makes a sharp turn to the west away from my parents' yard.

Following that street leads to another neighborhood on the right, while the left side of the street is bordered by a heavily wooded area that eventually connects with a large swath of mostly unpopulated forest and swamp.

For the amount of blood on and around the hally, we judged that someone had hidden there for a little while.

Some of the ivy was pulled away from the fence between the house and the garage, so it was clear that this person had climbed over the fence.

From there, the trail became much clearer as it went across the concrete patio between the house and the garage.

There's an air conditioning unit sticking out from the window just past the fence, and on the other side of it there was even more blood drying in a pool on the patio as well as more smears higher up on the wall of the house.

Again, it looked like the person had hidden there behind the air conditioning unit for a while, and by this point we were certain that it was a person, not an animal.

This was partly because of the sheer amount of blood and partly because the smears on the side of the house were up high, as if a person had leaned against the house with blood on their hands or upper body.

The trail then picked up again, but with smaller spatters, as if they had managed to control the bleeding somehow.

The track went across the patio and out into the backyard, where it was difficult to follow through the grass.

At the far back fence, some of the honeysuckle vines that grew over the fence had been pulled, and the fence was bent as if someone had climbed over it, and there were some smears of blood on the vines.

From there, the trail ran out into the street behind my parents' house where it became nearly impossible to follow.

It was pretty clear that someone had been injured and was trying to hide, which implied that someone else had caused the injury and was probably looking for them.

Whatever the injury was, it must have been fairly serious because they lost quite a bit of blood in my parents' yard alone.

They had to come down the driveway from the main road, and they clearly knew that they could cut through the yard to reach the back street and the neighborhood or forest beyond.

My dad asked the night security guard at the local school if he had heard anything on the police scanner that night to see if anything weird was going on, but the guard hadn't heard anything.

My mom told me a few days later that the neighbor who lives on the street behind them told her that he had had insomnia that night and he heard someone running down the street at 3 a.m.

He also said he had seen a dark colored truck make several slow passes up and down the street.

I asked my parents if they wanted to call the police to report it, whatever this was, and they were both in their late 60s at the time, and I worried about them being alone while there were creepy things, presumably involving violence, going on right outside their house.

But my mom declined, not only because there was nothing that the police could do, but also because she worried that the police might be involved with what happened.

Their local cops had a reputation for being very corrupt, so she didn't want to have any kind of involvement with them.

So, I took the hose and a scrub brush and did my best to wash away all the traces of whatever it was that happened the previous night.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well for the remainder of that trip home, nor on subsequent visits.

It was kind of like being in a house in a slasher film.

Not the house where the actual violence took place, but the one down the street, where the hero or heroine of the movie runs and hides outside while being pursued by the killer.

I felt like the off-screen neighbor who finds out the next morning that something very bad happened just outside while they slept.

It was definitely a creepy feeling, and much closer than I ever want to be to that kind of situation.

In 2018, three of my friends and I decided to travel to Bali for a week since it was cheap.

We're all guys and we were in our twenties at the time.

The itinerary included sightseeing, trying local foods, mountain climbing, and visiting bars at the beach, a typical vacation in Indonesia.

It was honestly quite a surreal experience.

The country is absolutely beautiful, and the food was amazing.

Drugs were prominent there, especially mushrooms, so the streets were filled with people on drugs who were dying to sell us their drugs.

I'm not exaggerating when I say this.

One dude even grabbed my arm because I ignored his two-for-one deal.

He even said his drugs were a one-way ticket to meet Jesus.

I shrugged him off, and my friends laughed about it while suggesting that I was possibly passing up on a chance to meet our Lord and Savior.

While these sellers were pretty sketchy, I didn't feel too afraid of them as my friends and I were confident that we could handle them, since half of them were far from sober.

However, the horror started when we went back to our Airbnb for the night.

We had an early day the next morning and we were exhausted.

The place was extremely cheap, and it didn't have a proper locking mechanism for the door.

It had two wooden doors which swung inwards, and the only way to lock them was to wedge a wooden block through the holes mounted on the door.

It was a bit of a rudimentary lock, but it got the job done, I guess.

Everything was going well until the last night of our trip when we realized that the wooden block was missing.

We looked everywhere for it, but to no avail.

I just figured that one of us must have misplaced it somehow.

So that night we settled for using a selfie stick instead, since we didn't have anything else that we could fit into the holes to wedge the door closed.

We turned in for the night, not expecting anything to happen, since we had already stayed there for six nights without any issues.

But then, in the dead of night, I woke up to this strange clicking sound.

I got out of my bed and thought maybe it was one of the guys,

so I approached the noise as my friends continued to sleep.

The ruckus seemed to be coming from the swinging doors, so I headed towards them cautiously.

I noticed that the doors were slightly open and the selfie stick had been damaged.

I peeked outside and saw three people staring through the gap between the doors.

They were really close to the entrance and were attempting to push the doors open.

I yelled at them and questioned their intentions as I noticed that one of them was holding the wooden block.

I was shocked and puzzled at the situation as I recognized one of the men.

He did the cleaning for the Airbnb during the day, so there was no reason for him to be there at 3 a.m.

The guy who was with him asked if the wooden block belonged to us, as he alleged to have found it outside of the Airbnb.

I was immediately suspicious of this, so I called my still sleeping friends for backup, which made these men make a run for it.

When my friends woke up, I filled them in on what was happening.

We stayed awake until morning just in case they came back to try anything funny.

We decided to report it all to the host.

But the description I gave them wasn't synonymous with theirs.

They told me that the housekeepers that they hired were women.

This sent a chill down my spine.

Luckily we didn't lose anything important, and we got out of the situation safely.

I can't imagine what would have happened if I didn't wake up on that fateful night as the doors were close to being opened.

I'm just grateful that it was our last night there.

This happened in a small Russian village sometime around 2008 when I was eight years old.

This was the kind of place where everyone knew each other, or at least pretended to.

It was late, about 10 p.m., and it was warm.

The streetlights bathed the road in a dull orange glow.

Everything was quiet except for the hum of my bike tires on the pavement.

I was with a few kids that I sort of knew.

They weren't really friends of mine, just familiar faces.

We weren't talking, just riding as the night stretched on.

Then this man stepped out of the dark.

I recognized him immediately.

Everyone did.

He was a drunk who lived in the village.

He was always lurking around, always wasted.

I had never spoken to him as I had never needed to, but at this moment, he was right in front of me, and before I could even process what was happening, he grabbed me.

The smell hit me first, booze, sweat, and something sour.

His grip was tight, his fingers dug into my arm.

Then, in a slow, slurred voice, he spoke.

Where are my cigarettes?

I had no idea what he was talking about.

At eight years old, I certainly wasn't carrying cigarettes.

I didn't smoke, so I stammered out the first thing that came to mind.

I don't know.

His grip tightened, and his breath reeked as he leaned closer and echoed, Where are my cigarettes?

This made panic set in for me.

I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let go.

My voice cracked as I repeated, I don't know

It was like he didn't hear me, though.

His voice was slower and lower this time, and he nearly growled, Where are my cigarettes?

And that was when I lost it.

I screamed.

I belted out a fully terrified, gut wrenching scream fueled by pure, uncontrollable fear.

Every single kid who was with me bolted the second I screamed.

There was even a sixteen year old among them.

He was bigger, older, and stronger than me, but he ran without any hesitation.

No one even looked back.

They were just gone.

So I was on my own.

Maybe that was what saved me because as soon as I started jittering and screaming, the drunk lost interest, and his grip on me loosened.

The second I felt his fingers slip, I bolted.

Luckily home wasn't far from me.

It was just at the end of a long driveway, straight off of the main road where I had been riding my bike with the rest of the kids.

When I reached my driveway, I sprinted down it, heart slamming against my ribs as I crashed through the door.

I couldn't even form proper sentences.

My words were stumbling over each other through my panic shouting as I tried to explain what happened.

My grandma and grandpa turned to me, alarmed, but before I could even finish, my grandma glanced out the window just in time to see him.

He was still out there.

He was coming towards the house.

My grandma then impulsively grabbed a wooden stick from behind the door and stormed outside, moving faster than I had ever seen her.

She hadn't seen what happened, but she had heard me, and she saw him chasing after me.

This was all she needed, so the second she reached him, she unleashed hell.

She screamed, called him every name under the sun.

And then she started swinging hard.

Each hit landed with a sickening thud.

The guy stumbled back, far too drunk to fully process what just happened, mumbling as he tried to shield himself.

She didn't stop until he finally turned and skulked back into the dark.

One week later, I saw him again, still drunk, still stumbling around the village.

He looked right past me, like I wasn't even there.

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Limit one discount per customer per vehicle.

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I'm a 23-year-old female, and I live in an apartment complex that, like many other apartment complexes, has more residence than it does parking spaces.

The spots next to the building usually fill up around 9 p.m.

So when I come home late, as I often do, I typically have to park across from the lot and walk.

My complex is in a very quiet suburb right down the street from the police station, so I never thought that I'd have to think twice about the walk.

One night I pulled into my parking lot at around midnight, and unsurprisingly, all of the spots next to the building were full.

Not far away, though, there were a handful of spots in the middle of the lot between some garages and the mailroom.

A car was pulling into one of these spaces on the side closest to my building.

I noticed that there was still another space on the other side, one spot over from the entryway to the mailroom, So I looped around and parked.

The other car's engine was off, but the driver hadn't gotten out of their car yet, so I took my time.

I hesitated about turning my car off and checked my phone for a moment.

I'm a naturally nervous person, so I wanted this person to get out of their car and be on their way before I had to walk in front of their car to make my way to the building.

After a second, the guy got out of the car and walked behind it.

He was walking in the general direction of my car, but also towards the three buildings behind it, so I initially thought nothing of it.

But then he stopped, and it looked like he was looking directly at me.

I wasn't even sure if he could see me in the dark, but I swear it felt like I was making eye contact with him.

Then the guy started walking again.

He was now speed walking directly to my car.

There was a little lane in the middle of the parking spots to allow cars through,

but he wasn't walking along that.

He was making a direct beeline for my driver's side door.

My heart was racing, but I kept telling myself it was nothing.

He was going to change his path any moment and head towards the mailroom, or one of the buildings behind me.

I kept waiting for his trajectory to change, but it never did.

He walked straight up to my car, and I was in complete panic.

All I could think of to do was to make sure that my doors were locked, and thank God they were.

I saw him reach for the handle of my rear door, but right before he touched my car, he suddenly veered slightly to the side to walk around the back of my car and into the mailroom.

I didn't even think.

I jumped out and bolted across the parking lot.

After I quickly glanced over my shoulder, I saw that he had come straight out of the mailroom when he heard the car door.

I heard him walking quickly behind me, but I didn't look to see which way he was going because I was too focused on getting into my building.

All of this happened in less than a minute, but it had me worked up for the rest of the night.

There was no reason for him to have to walk up to my car the way that he did.

It just didn't make any sense.

I know that if the guy lives in my apartment, it's likely I will encounter him again, but I'd really be happy to never see him again.

For a bit of context, this happened last year around February.

I was 17 and I am a female.

One day, I had just finished school and I was home.

I've always had the tendency to get very scared when I'm home alone.

It doesn't happen all of the time, but sometimes it just gets to me, and it makes me feel very paranoid.

Before I continue, I need to describe the layout of my place just a bit so that you can have a better understanding.

At the beginning of the hallway, my bedroom is on the left.

After that, there's another room on the left, which is my parents' bedroom.

And then at the end of the hallway is the bathroom.

The door of the bathroom is weird because there's a curved window in it, so if I'm inside the bathroom, I can see movements happening outside the door.

The same goes if I'm outside.

If I look through this curved glass, I can see movements from inside the bathroom, but the curvature obscures quite a bit, so nothing is clear.

Anyway, I was in my room and I decided to go to the bathroom.

While I was in there, I didn't close the door or anything because I was home alone.

While I was in there, I heard a sound coming from my parents' room.

The floor creaked.

as if somebody were walking towards the bathroom.

Of course, I locked the door right away.

I only had 10% battery on my phone, but I was nervous since I thought that I was home alone, so I called a friend on FaceTime to tell her what was happening.

I remember laughing nervously as I told her that I was probably just being paranoid.

Then I pressed my face against the curved glass of the door, and I saw the face of a man whom I didn't know.

I immediately screamed, I'm calling the police.

You need to leave.

My phone battery was draining, so I hung up on my friend and I called my dad who rushed home.

As my dad was rushing home, my phone completely died, so I just had to pray that my dad would get home quickly.

I was scared that my dad would open the door and have somebody ambush him.

Well, about forty-five minutes later, I was still pressed up against the door just in case the man tried to push it.

And luckily, my dad arrived.

I came out of the bathroom after my dad searched the place.

Both of us were perplexed as to to what happened since we couldn't tell how this guy got in or out of our apartment.

There were no open windows or anything.

I'm a 27-year-old female, and I went backpacking alone over a long weekend recently, which was very beautiful.

On the second night of my trip, I camped at a beautiful high-elevation lake, which could be accessed by a short trail that's about a mile long.

There were a few other campers there, as well as several other people who were just hiking or fishing.

It was the late afternoon, and I was sitting around my camp reading when a guy who appeared to be in his mid-twenties walked by carrying a fishing pole and a small cooler.

I didn't think anything of this, but less than ten minutes later, he doubled back and came over to say hi.

I gave him a quick hi in return, but went back to reading.

However, he then, without warning, sat down on a stump right next to me.

I was completely taken aback.

This was unprompted.

It was an invasion of my space.

He started asking me questions that were just rhetorical, and he had this unusual amused tone.

So you're just reading, he observed.

Then he looked behind me, noticed my tent, and continued.

Oh,

you are staying the night alone, huh?

I didn't say anything in response to this, since it was relatively obvious that I was.

It's hard to explain, but something was just off about this man.

I was so uncomfortable that I couldn't form the words to tell him I was trying to be alone.

Honestly, I was paralyzed.

I wanted him to leave, though.

His eyes were so dead and dark as they drilled into me.

I finally responded with a simple yep, or something like that, and tried to pretend like I was still reading.

He then pulled a beer out of his cooler and cracked it open.

He also lit a cigarette and blew the smoke right in my face.

I was so uncomfortable that I wasn't reacting or even saying anything.

Soon after, another hiker wandered by.

This other hiker was also a guy, and struck up a conversation with him.

so I took the opportunity to grab my water filter and pretend to go get water.

I went to the shore and filtered some water super slowly as I saw him walk away to sit with the other hiker who approached us.

This made me feel very relieved, except that he kept looking in my direction.

I went back eventually and got inside my tent, and for about twenty minutes everything was fine.

I had the rain fly pulled back and was watching the sunset while loosely organizing my things.

He then suddenly popped out from behind my tent, stood about maybe a foot from the door, and looked down at me.

He wasn't saying anything, but he started laughing creepily.

I asked him what was so funny and he flatly responded, This is just really funny.

I felt so sick to my stomach when he said this.

I replied, I'm taking a nap now, so so have a good night.

He laughed again, but thankfully left.

I saw him again later on.

He was continuing to wander around the camp with no real purpose, still looking in my direction, watching me.

I didn't have any service, but I did write down his last name, which was written on his cooler.

I also noted where he said he was from while talking to the other hiker just in case.

I made sure to sleep with a pocket knife close by that night.

Normally, while backpacking, I think the worst thing that could happen is I might run into a bear or sprain my ankle, but this truly was the most unsettling experience I had ever had in the back country.

I'm sure I'll be back out there soon, but hopefully, somewhere far away from this guy.

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Alaska is the perfect place to go if you want to get away from the rest of the world.

As America's least densely populated state, you have plenty of breathing room from any kind of authority or prying eyes that may want to know what you're up to.

For this reason, my home state is very attractive to all sorts of strangers and unsavory groups.

I've stumbled across Scientology centers at the end of this desolate back road with nothing else for miles around.

I've heard stories from doomsday preppers who claim to have bunkers made of shipping containers hidden in the sides of mountains.

I've also met people who have come out of religious cults in the interior that wanted to keep their followers away from any contact with the outside world.

You can find all of this and more in Alaska.

I was born and raised in Anchorage, which is the only big city in the state.

The city currently has a population of about 289,000 people, and it takes about 30 minutes tops to drive from one end to the other.

So that gives you an idea of what we up north consider a big city.

There's a running joke that Anchorage is the biggest rural city in the country.

The only other real city in the state is Fairbanks.

These two cities are connected by a two-lane highway, and there are 360 miles of highway between the two.

It's a seven-hour drive one way, but it's flanked by one of the most beautiful landscapes on the planet.

Mountains rise on either side of the road.

As the drive progresses, there are these colossal canyons to drive through.

They look pretty remarkable, as they've naturally been carved by melting glaciers and rivers.

The rock itself is over tens of thousands of years old.

You'll drive through vast, flat interior plains with mountains in the distance.

Now, I'm only saying all of this to help you understand exactly how desolate it feels to be in Alaska, even on the highway.

Once you're out of Anchorage or Fairbanks, there's nothing but wilderness as far as the eye can see, save for the occasional small town with a maximum population of about 1,000 people on a good day.

Ten years back, it was even less.

Alaskan girls are built tough.

We change tires, hunt, fish, camp, and generally have a tremendous appreciation for the great outdoors.

In high school, things were different, or at least they felt different.

I was naive, a young woman who thought that she could conquer anything due to the aforementioned built-tough attitude she was raised with.

During my senior year of high school, I decided to treat myself to a camping trip into the mountains up past Talkitna.

Nothing fancy, just an overnight or two in the most beautiful state at the most beautiful time of the year, mid-June.

Going north in peak summer has a weird feeling to it as the sun never really sets.

If you've ever seen the movie Midsummer, that's what it's like.

It can get about as dark as it would at dusk, but that's it.

Other than that, it's still bright and sunny the whole night through.

The false sense of security I had, thinking that the midnight sunlight would mean safety, probably nearly got me killed, or worse.

When I was embarking for this trip, I made the mistake of not telling anyone where I was going.

I just packed up for my trip, stopped at a subway for lunch, and headed out into the great beyond.

The drive was fine.

The solid two and a half hours I spent driving north along the highway took up most of the afternoon as I jammed out to the greatest hits on the radio on Cool 97.3.

After I got through Matsu Valley, I was in the mountains again.

Tall spruce and evergreen trees lined the road on both sides, with the occasional empty space where there had been some clear-cut logging.

All of this gives you a sense that while you're out in the wilderness, you are still connected to civilization in some way.

This led me to my biggest mistake, not staying at a state park campground.

As I said, I was in high school, and I only had a part-time job, so I didn't want to pay the $15 fee to camp overnight.

I found a spot that looked good and pulled off of the road.

The map that I got from my dad said there was an old mining site up a nearby mountain, so I decided that that would be the best spot to head for an overnight.

My logic must have been that it would be badass to spend a night in a mining ghost town or something like that, so I pulled off the road, packed up my backpack, put on some bug spray, grabbed my map and compass, and headed into the woods.

Now this hadn't been the first time I had done this.

I've been on wilderness backpacking trips on my own and with my dad throughout my childhood.

I knew my orientation skills and had taken some wilderness survival courses at camp.

I wasn't just some dummy wandering off into the woods with no idea of where I was, or so I thought.

After a solid 45-minute hike up into the hills, I finally made it to where the old mining camp was supposed to be, but there was nothing there.

There was just an old concrete foundation with some holes in it, and nothing else.

I was very disappointed, but also unsurprised by this outcome.

I set up a camp around there, off in the woods, and started to build a fire for dinner on the concrete slab.

Around those parts, it's best to set up the cooking away from your camp, just in case bears are feeling nosy.

The last thing you want is a 1,300 pound grizzly poking its nose in your tent, wondering why you smell like Campbell's soup and s'mores.

By this time it was getting late, it was about 10 p.m., but the sun was still high in the sky, and by the time I was done making dinner, it was nearly 11.

I was starving, so I dug in.

About an hour later, it was about as dark as it was going to get, so I hunkered down in my tent for the night.

I was confident that the overgrowth would provide me with some privacy, at least enough from whatever animals might be out around then.

Later I awoke to voices in the distance, and the sound of crashing through the underbrush.

My first thought was that it was some hunters.

My dad and I had run into a few during our camp outs, so it wasn't an uncommon occurrence.

I relaxed and figured they would just pass through without incident.

So I closed my eyes again, but then they found my fire pit.

A man's voice cried out into the brightish forest, Who the fuck is camping on our property?

I froze.

I knew I had inadvertently screwed up.

So I quickly got up, grabbed my purse, and started looking for my shoes so that I could get out there and apologize.

But before I had a chance to even do that, I heard the man again.

When we find you, you're fucking dead, he called out.

You're on private militia property, where trespassers get shot.

That was when the whole situation changed.

I didn't know what to do.

I couldn't just pack up my tent with some armed guy who was actively looking for me.

So, I carefully and quietly put my shoes on, put my keys in my purse, and slunk away into the underbrush as cautiously as I could.

My thought was to slip away and wait for them to get bored and leave before going back to pack up and get out of there.

I spent about twenty minutes hunkering behind a log in the woods, barely in earshot before I heard a second voice call out.

They had found my tent and were tearing it apart, going through all of my stuff.

One of them shouted, The bed's still warm.

Another shouted, The trespasser's a chick.

She left her underwear.

The first man I heard then instructed, Okay, let's fan out, find her.

If this bitch thinks that she can trespass, then there's going to be hell to pay.

At that point, I wasn't concerned that I had left my spare change of underwear in my bag, or that these creeps had found it.

I needed to get out of there.

So I quietly made my way down the mountain for a good thirty minutes.

I was essentially tiptoeing and taking care not to step on any twigs or make a ruckus.

After the rustling and the shouting of the men faded away for a bit, I said fuck it, and I booked it as fast as I could down the hill under the midnight sun.

I tripped and fell and got scraped up pretty bad.

Finally, I made it back to the road, but much to my horror, there was no car.

I knew I was down the road from where I had been, but I couldn't quite figure out where I was at the time.

So I just picked a direction and started walking.

When I rounded a corner in the road, I thought I lucked out since I saw my car.

But two men were standing beside it.

They were armed and dressed up in surplus military gear.

I hid in the brush on the side of the road and watched.

A while later, several more men appeared on the trail that I had taken.

They dumped all of my stuff next to my car, hopped on their ATVs, and drove off.

I carefully approached my car, trying not to be seen, and I found a note on my dashboard.

It read something along the lines of, If we ever catch you on our property again, we won't hesitate to use force.

Consider this a warning.

And with that, I went to start loading my stuff into my car.

Just as I was doing so, I noticed what they had done.

They cut up and destroyed all of my gear, probably as punishment for trespassing.

Honestly, I'm thankful they did that, because this was way better than having them cut up and destroy me.

Ever since then, I've taken great care of where I camp, and I only camp in designated camping areas.

To the weird militia group in Alaska, I'm pretty sure you weren't going to kill me, but nevertheless, let's not meet.

Stick around after the music if you're a patron for your extended version of this week's episode.

If you want to get access, go to patreon.com forward slash Let's Not Meet podcast.

To sign up and support the show today, you'll get access to ad-free versions of all of our episodes and bonus content every week with stories you won't hear anywhere else.

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This week you have heard, I almost became another statistic in a Bulgarian Park by Weekend Warrior.

Stranger at the Front Door by Height Acrobatic 1066.

Someone left a trail of blood by bearded, bookish fool of a tukish.

Airbnb and Bally by Ace Virgo.

An old story from 2008 by Daily Quests.

Man approaches my car at midnight by Snake Mom JPG,

Someone Was in My Apartment by then Bandicoot 4216, Creepy Encounter Backpacking by Anonymous, and finally, I Was Chased Through the Midnight Sun by an Armed Militia by AK Sand Fire.

All of the stories you've heard this week were narrated and produced with the permission of their respective authors.

Let's Not Meet, a true horror podcast, is not associated with Reddit or any other message boards online.

If you have a story to share, send it to Let'sNotMeetStories at gmail.com to hear it on the show.

I'll see you all next week for a brand new episode of Let's Not Meet.

Stay safe.

I grew up in a small coastal town in Maine.

In the early 2000s, this was the kind of town where everybody lived.

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Drew and Sue in Eminem's Minis.

And baking the surprise birthday cake for Lou.

And Sue forgetting that her oven doesn't really work.

And Drew remembering that they don't have flour.

And Lou getting home early from work, which he never does.

And Drew and Sue using the rest of the tubes of Eminem's Minis as party poppers instead.

I think this is one of those moments where people say, it's the thought that counts.

Eminem's, it's more fun together.