13x22: Gore Orphanage

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I'm a female and this took place during 2014 and 2015 when I was 20 years old. But first let me give you some context before letting you know what happened.

I was studying in a lovely seaside city in France where everyone was cycling all the time. It was essentially part of the culture there.
People cycled to school, to work, to parties, etc.

It was a very safe place, full of tourists and students. I lived and studied in this city between 2012 and 2015.

Up until the events that I'm going to mention, I never felt unsafe. In December 2014, my boyfriend took me to his engineering school's Christmas party.

We were with a large group of friends and we all mingled a lot. One of the guys from the group, whom I didn't know personally, left the party without anyone noticing.

A month later, he was found dead in the harbor, and the police never figured out what happened.

I even checked online recently to see if there were any updates, but it's still a cold case. I didn't know him, but I think about it all the time.
Was he targeted by someone because he was alone?

Did he fall into the harbor, or was he pushed? Why did he leave so covertly without letting anybody know?

I'm sure someone would have walked home with him. Needless to say, after that, the city didn't feel too safe.

But at twenty years old, I didn't have the same understanding of such things as I do now in my 30s, but life carried on. Then a couple of months passed, and it was the beginning of 2015.

A friend had been assaulted badly while cycling home after a party. He was found in critical condition with his body lying halfway on the road and halfway on the sidewalk.

His head had been smashed onto the sidewalk step and his jaw completely shattered.

He was a big guy, in every sense possible, not the sort of guy who could easily be pushed around.

When he was recovering in the hospital, he couldn't make sense of what happened. I had no idea why he was attacked on his bike and the police never found the suspects responsible.

So two students around my age and in the same friend's circle were brutally assaulted for no reason.

I still cycled everywhere because I didn't have a choice. I lived eight kilometers away from my school and I didn't have any other means of transportation.

This meant that I was on the roads cycling approximately 16 to 20 kilometers every day, and I had been doing so since 2012.

A few months later, in the spring of 2015, I was cycling back home from a party with my boyfriend. I had a few drinks, but I wasn't drunk.
I was just tired.

My boyfriend was annoying me because I was going a little slow, but he wasn't waiting for me, so the distance between us kept getting bigger.

Suddenly, someone jumped on me. It was a man.
He appeared from nowhere and kicked my bike to the ground. Since I had been cycling so much, I was used to the bike.

I was able to let it fall between my legs without falling with it. I resisted the fall, and stayed standing.
I quickly reached for my bike with my left hand, trying to get a hold of the handlebars.

The man then kicked me, and then he kicked my hand. He was kicking again and again, but I already had a hold of the handlebars.
It hurt, but I continued trying to lift my bike from the ground.

As I was doing so he said something to me that I couldn't quite hear. I saw my boyfriend and he was still a bit far up ahead, but he stopped and he was now looking at me.

I figured he was going to help when he saw the man and realized I wasn't alone. I was still standing, trying to lift my bike.

It had only been maybe two to three seconds since the man jumped on me. My boyfriend continued looking at me for a second and then turned his back.

My heart dropped as I watched him start pedaling away. It was the dead of night and there was no one else around.
I was on my own.

After my boyfriend left, the man kept kicking me and my bike.

He wanted me to let go, but my grip was strong even though my hands were starting to turn blue from all of the kicks that they were taking.

As this was happening, I thought about the other students who were attacked. Somehow they gave me strength.
Then I looked ahead at my boyfriend.

The sight of him cycling away from the scene and ditching me, it filled me with pure rage. I was ready to channel that rage.
The man was holding some kind of glass in his hand.

I impulsively grabbed it with my free hand and smashed it into his face. I was so furious.
As I picked my bike back up, I realized that surely the glass had alcohol in it since it burned his eyes.

This gave me the split second that I needed to launch myself forward and start pedaling away. He couldn't reach my hands anymore, so he kicked my bike one more time, but I stood strong on the pedals.

He tried to to chase me but I was faster. I quickly gained some distance away from him but I kept pedaling until I could no longer breathe.
I pedaled until I felt numb.

I escaped something terrible that night. Due to the stress of the situation I was unable to describe the man, so I'll never know for sure if my experience was linked to the other attacks.

However, it seems incredibly likely as my attack occurred on the same route as the others.

While I can't remember my attacker's face, I've always remembered the look on my ex-boyfriend's face when he turned his back on me. I'd rather not meet either of those two men ever again.

When I was 13, I had a paper route for a few years and I delivered papers to people's doors six days a week.

All my customers, aside from occasional grumps and chatter boxes, were absolutely wonderful.

Most of them were older and many of them looked forward to seeing me every day just to have someone to talk to.

Some of them would even leave little treats like granola bars, water bottles, and sometimes even tips at their doors for me.

The winter holidays were a great time since everyone who could would leave massive tips for me. As far as first jobs go, this was a pretty good gig.

At some point a couple, Louise and Gerald, moved back to the neighborhood and became my customers. Louise and Gerald will always stick out in my mind.

Things were normal with them at the start, so I initially perceived them as pretty friendly. But then, one Saturday, I noticed that Gerald was outside.

Sunday was the day that I had to wake up the earliest to go deliver papers. Even though it was so early, he chatted me up right when he saw me.

Usually I go right back to bed after I finished with my Sunday deliveries, so I was wearing a Britney Spears shirt and a pair of polar bear pajama pants.

Gerald complimented me and said I was dressed cute.

I was confused. I was in some pajamas that I had just thrown on randomly.
His observation confused me, but I just went on with my day and didn't think anything of it.

Something else to note is that his wife Louise is perpetually smiling. It always unnerved me, but I couldn't pinpoint why.
In retrospect it seems kind of meek, mild, and subservient.

I guess I somehow picked up on that back then.

Anyway, I noticed that in their garden there were three different dog headstones that all said Fido on them.

I was confused as to why all their dogs had the same name, but figured maybe multiple people had bought headstones for them, and they wanted to be polite and display all of them.

One day, Louise was outside, and she had a dog with her. She introduced the dog to me as they had just adopted her, and guess what? The name was Fido.

They then confirmed that they actually had multiple dogs, all of whom were named Fido. I also found out that all the former Fidos were shelter dogs, just like the new Fido I was being introduced to.

I thought that this was weird, and I told my mom about it. She told me not to be so judgmental.
It was probably the one way they've been able to deal with the grief of their losses.

While I cooled on that, I kept my guard up with Gerald and Louise, since they kept trying to get me to come inside their house.

They often invited me in for tea, which is not something people do where I'm from.

Extending an invitation for coffee and donuts is a little more commonplace, but that still isn't something that people do on a regular basis. Sometimes people would invite me in just to talk to them.

In any case, I always declined because I had papers to deliver and I just wanted to go home.

Gerald continued complimenting my outfits even when they were pajamas. One morning, he did this while gradually getting closer to me.

During that interaction, interaction, he eventually touched my shoulder. This felt very strange, so I made an abrupt getaway.
I didn't tell my mom about that time.

Our relationship was good at that point, and I feared telling her my concerns would make her mad or make her not trust me.

This was also at the tail end of a child sexual assault that I had been experiencing, which she doesn't know about to this day, so I ultimately figured I was just being paranoid.

Then right before I moved and gave up my paper route, a bizarre incident happened. It was a Sunday, the last Sunday I was going to have this paper route, to be exact.

I was out early delivering papers. It was so early that it was still kind of dark.

Gerald was outside, and he was complimenting my outfit again, getting creepily close.

He invited me inside, but I said, I don't think my mom would appreciate me being gone for longer than she expects me to. She's pretty strict.

That wasn't necessarily the truth, but I had to do what I had to do.

He seemed to kind of get annoyed by that and in return asked, wouldn't your mom prefer that ye respect your elders and not turn down an invitation?

I felt the color drain from my face as I muttered something about needing to hurry along and I got out of there as quickly as I could.

I heard him comment about how my hair looked pretty, but I continued to book it to the next house. I didn't see Gerald after that, but I did see Louise.

She never let up with her unsettling, beaming smiles and invitations, inviting me to come inside to play with Fido or have some tea. Even though I always declined, she seemed disappointed every time.

So that's my weird paper route story. Gerald and Louise had some funky vibes, and I sincerely hope that we never meet again.

She's been thinking about this sleepover all week, but I think about her food allergies all the time. Fortunately, her doctor prescribed Zolar, Omalizumab.

It's proven to significantly reduce allergic reactions if a food allergy accident happens.

Zolair 150 milligrams is a prescription medication used to treat food allergy in people one year of age and older to reduce allergic reactions due to accidental exposure to one or more foods.

While taking Zolair, you should continue to avoid all foods to which you are allergic. Don't use if you are allergic to Zolair.

Zolair may cause a severe, life-threatening allergic reaction called anaphylaxis. Tell your doctor if you ever had anaphylaxis.

Get help right away if you have trouble breathing or if you have swelling of your throat or tongue. Zolair should not be used for the emergency treatment of allergic reactions, including anaphylaxis.

Zolair is for maintenance use to reduce allergic reactions, including anaphylaxis, while avoiding food allergens.

Serious side effects such as cancer, fever, muscle aches, and rash, parasitic infection, or heartened circulation problems have been reported. Please see Zolair.com for full prescribing information.

Ask an allergist about Zolair. This is an advertisement for Zolair paid for by Genentech and Novartis.

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I'm a 19-year-old male. This happened recently.
I went to a festival in a city two hours away from home. I booked a hotel room for three days, and this happened on the second day.

I had just woken up and was slightly hungover so I decided to go eat a late lunch as it was about 5 p.m.

I returned to the hotel at around 7 p.m. and as I was approaching the entrance a guy in a suit holding a computer bag followed me up to the door.

He looked professional like he had just gotten back from some sort of meeting. So I didn't think of it much.

I had an empty Coke bottle in one hand and I was struggling as I tried to pull out my keycard to swipe and open the door.

I found it weird that he just stood behind me when he could have easily opened the door with his keycard, but this was something else I didn't really think about until later.

Once we both got into the building, I noticed his weird behavior. I needed to throw my empty bottle away, but he followed me to the reception area when I went to do that.

And then he followed me to the elevators. When we got to the elevators, he stood just a few feet beside me and watched me press the up button.

I was getting more and more suspicious and anxious when he walked into the elevator with me.

I had my back to him as I pressed my floor number, and then I moved to this side to let him press his floor number.

But he didn't. And that's what officially set off alarms.

I have social anxiety, so I couldn't bring myself to confront him. I just stood in silence and waited for the door to open.
When the door did open, I walked out, out, but he followed close behind.

My room was at the end of the hall, and he followed me about halfway before a group of tipsy girls came out of their room. By God's grace, I somehow know one of them.

I made a big deal out of running into her as she and her friends invited me to go clubbing with them. I accepted and talked with them as I watched the guy slowly walk backward and into the elevator.

He then went down to the first floor.

When we eventually went downstairs, I noticed that he was not in the lobby, and I didn't see him again for the rest of my stay.

I really don't know what it was about, but it shook me to my core.

Like I said, I have bad anxiety at times, and this made me feel like vomiting. What scares me even more is that physically, I'm a big guy.

I hit the gym almost every day and I tower over most people, so I never thought something like this would happen to to me. What's crazy is that he followed me so blatantly.

I used to door dash on the side just for some extra cash. It wasn't anything too crazy until a few months ago when something happened that I still can't stop thinking about.

And to be honest, I haven't done a single delivery since. One night, it was around eleven PM and I was finishing up my last order for the night.

The delivery was in a quiet, upscale, LA neighborhood, nothing out of the ordinary. When I pulled up to this house, I left the car running like I always do, grabbed the food, and dropped it off.

It was totally normal, and I had no weird vibes from the customer or anything. But as I walked back to my car, something felt off.

I can't explain it, but it was like the air suddenly felt heavy. It was like I could sense something was wrong before I even got back to my car.

I proceeded to get into my driver's seat, close the door, and glance in my rearview mirror. And that's when I saw him.
A man was sitting in my back seat.

He was just sitting there, hoodie pulled low over his face, completely still.

My heart stopped. I was frozen staring at him through the mirror, trying to figure out when the hell he got into my car.

I managed to stammer out, Can I help you?

He then leaned forward, just a little, and I saw his eyes for the first time.

They were wide and bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in days.

He leaned back again, and in the calmest voice he said, Drive.

I don't know why, but I did. I started driving, my mind racing, trying to figure out what to do.
He didn't say anything else.

He just sat there completely calm while I drove through these dark streets. I was freaking out inside, thinking that this was it.
I felt like I was about to get robbed or worse.

He then tells me to turn down a side street. Now, it was dark, with barely any street lights, and I thought, so this is where it's going to go down.

But right as we approached a gas station that was well lit with a few people around, I slammed on the brakes, threw the car and park and jumped out, screaming for help.

The gas station clerk ran out, and I yelled that there was a guy in my back seat. But when we got back to the car it was empty.
There was no sign of him anywhere. He just vanished.

I have no idea how he got out so fast or where he went, but I don't care. I got back into my car, locked the doors, and drove straight home.

I've replayed this night in my head and it still doesn't make sense. It was months ago and I haven't touched the DoorDash app since.
I don't know if I ever will.

It's not worth risking having something like that happen again.

This happened when I was 19. I'm in my late 30s now.
I worked in an old-fashioned local diner in my city as a waitress. The job was fun and the diner was really cute, and they had multiple locations.

It had a bar area and a jukebox. We sold breakfast and lunch items and stayed open 24-7.

I worked the day shift with the manager and usually one other waitress. The manager doubled as the short-order fry cook.
We had a few regulars who came in on certain days at the same time.

They were older guys who shamelessly hit on the waitresses and made crude jokes. They especially thought that I was attractive, as I was young, and I put a lot of effort into my physical appearance.

One day, around two hours before my shift ended, a tall gentleman walked in and took a seat in the bar area. I greeted him, gave him a cup of water, and set a menu down for him.

This was just customary. I then told him to to call me over whenever he was ready to order.
He didn't say anything. He just smiled and stared at me.
So I asked if he heard me.

He still gave no response and just kept smiling and staring.

I walked away, but his eyes followed me everywhere. He hadn't touched the water or opened the menu.
So I approached him again and asked if he wanted to order anything.

He just smiled and told me that his name was Anthony. I said, Okay, Anthony, are you going to order anything?

He stood up and said, I'm going to marry you, and then walked out.

It was crazy, but the last hour and a half of my shift picked up, so I just kind of forgot about it. During my next shift, Anthony showed up again and sat on the same stool where he sat before.

I brought him a cup of water and didn't even bother with the menu. He then started with his creepy staring and smiling again.

I asked him if he was going to order something or just stare because frankly his behavior was now freaking me out. He just kept staring and smiling creepily.

I told my manager that he was creeping me out and she told him that if he wasn't going to order something he needed to leave, so he got up and walked out the door.

But before exiting he told me you're going to be my wife.

I went on with my shift and felt weirded out. But the next day Anthony showed up again.

He didn't come inside, though. As I was sweeping the dining area I saw him staring at me through the windows of the double doors.

When our eyes met, he smiled and ran off.

I won't lie, this made me pretty nervous, but I had two days off after that, and I quickly put it out of my mind.

On my next shift, it was early, and the old guys were just spewing their normal inappropriate conversation. This was during the time when Kanye dropped Gold Digger, and they knew the song.

Anthony walked in and took his normal seat at the bar. I ignored him as I filled up some coffee cups for the old guys.

As I was doing this, they started joking that a girl like me was the type of woman that was mentioned in Kanye's song. They said that I would never date a broke man and that I looked high maintenance.

Well, this angered Anthony because he suddenly slammed hard onto the counter and screamed at me that he knew I was a money-hungry bitch.

He said he hated bitches like me.

Everybody was quiet and still. You could hear a pin drop.
My heart was racing as I screamed for him to get out. He stormed out the door and screamed back Bitch, I'm going to kill you

before running out the door.

This left little nineteen year old me literally shaking like a leaf in the wind. My heart was pounding and I couldn't concentrate or think.
My manager told me to take a breather in the storage room.

So I did, and I called the non emergency number for the police.

I spoke to a kind lady, who took my statement and a description of Anthony. They sent a cop to look for him in the area, but he was long gone.

I told my family what happened, and every day after that, my relatives were on rotation to come by the diner and eat breakfast or lunch until I was off of work.

It was really sweet of them to do that, and I felt a lot safer with them there.

About two weeks after that incident, the lady I spoke to, when I called the emergency line, called me back and told me that Anthony had been arrested on drug charges.

Even though he was arrested for reasons unrelated to me, he also confessed to stalking and threatening me.

She said I no longer needed to worry as he was going away for a while, and I thanked her for calling me. Fast forward a few years later.
I still worked at the diner part-time between college classes.

I was sweeping the dining area, and Anthony walked in. For a second, my heart stopped.
The same fear that I felt at 19 crept in, and I couldn't make my legs or mouth move.

To my surprise, he instantly apologized to me. He said that he was sorry about how he acted back then and explained that he was high on drugs and very messed up.

He said that he hoped I could forgive him. I was pleasantly surprised.
I told him that he was forgiven. I haven't seen him again since, and unfortunately, all the diners were closed down.

She's been thinking about this sleepover all week, but I think about her food allergies all the time. Fortunately, her doctor prescribed Zolair, Omalizumab.

It's proven to significantly reduce allergic reactions if a food allergy accident happens.

Zolar 150 milligrams is a prescription medication used to treat food allergy in people one year of age and older to reduce allergic reactions due to accidental exposure to one or more foods.

While taking Zolair, you should continue to avoid all foods to which you are allergic. Don't use if you are allergic to Zolair.

Zolair may cause a severe, life-threatening allergic reaction called anaphylaxis. Tell your doctor if you ever had anaphylaxis.

Get help right away if you have trouble breathing or if you have swelling of your throat or tongue. Zolair should not be used for the emergency treatment of allergic reactions including anaphylaxis.

Zolair is for maintenance use to reduce allergic reactions including anaphylaxis while avoiding food allergens.

Serious side effects such as cancer, fever, muscle aches and rash, parasitic infection, or heartened circulation problems have been reported. Please see Zolair.com for full prescribing information.

Ask an allergist about Zolair. This is an advertisement for Zolair paid for by Genentech and Novartis.

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I have a story to relay about my childhood. At the time, I was either 9 or 10.
It was around 1969 or 1970.

I had hung around with a kid who was just a few years older. His name was Mike, and he was always doing a bit of of troublemaking.

Later, it turned out that he had schizophrenia and a long string of drug convictions.

I grew up in a fairly large but safe Midwestern city. I say it was a safe city, but there was a case of two young girls who were kidnapped in 1967.

One was found months later, buried east of town, and the other was never found. The case still remains unsolved to this day.

However, there wasn't very much crime in my neighborhood in 1969 to 1970, but by the 80s, you did not want to live in that neighborhood.

Although the neighborhood was older with houses built in the 30s, they were well taken care of, and the neighborhood was safe during my time there.

I lived on a street that was three blocks south of a rail siding for a steel plant.

There was a gap on the north side of the street, close to the railroad, where two houses had burned down years ago.

This left a large vacant lot that was open to the tracks for as long as I could remember.

There were usually empty box cars sitting there as the empty lot was a convenient path to the tracks and the creek. A lot of people cut across this lot to get from point A to point B.

One weekend afternoon, Mike and I were down there, goofing around near the empty box cars, and some older kid that neither of us knew popped out between a couple of the box cars.

The kid appeared to be around sixteen or seventeen. Since we didn't know him, we started walking away, but he ran over and stood in front of us.

He said that he wanted to show us something and pulled out a decently sized pocket knife.

I thought that this was no big deal, as Mike was a knife freak, and I figured maybe Mike knew the guy after all.

The guy stood about three feet away. We were about fifteen feet away from the empty train cars and about thirty feet away from the street.

The guy then said, How much you got?

I sharply turned to Mike, as if to say, What the fuck?

Then Mike said, Enough. Why?

As he looked at this guy like he was from another planet.

The guy awkwardly readjusted his hat as it seemed he wasn't expecting a response. And before the guy did anything else, Mike jumped forward, pushed the guy back, and yelled, Run!

Once the guy lost his balance and fell backward, common sense took a hold of me, and I did run.

We both did. We ran like hell for two blocks before realizing that the guy wasn't even chasing us.
He wasn't even in sight, so we slowed down to catch our breath.

When we coasted to a stop, we both folded over trying to catch our breath. Even though we didn't say anything, there was no doubt that we were sharing the same thought.
What was that all about?

I was still pretty naïve, all things considered, and it was at that moment that my mind registered where the guy might have been going with it.

Before this happened, I would have never figured that Mike and I were in danger. Fortunately, the guy wasn't interested in chasing us.

Even though I just figured that the guy was some sort of freak, I also wondered who he was and where he came from. I knew that Mike didn't know him, but I double-checked and asked if he did.

He said he had no idea.

I have no idea what came of that guy, but thankfully there were no arrests or knife attacks reported in the area.

I never said a word to my parents about it, and strangely Mike and I never even spoke about it after that.

My family moved to a nearby city just a year later, but I made an effort to keep up with Mike.

We were pretty good about staying in touch until one night when he came over to stay the night and tried to steal some of my father's tools.

After that, my father made it known that he was no longer welcome.

I haven't spoken with him in years, but to get an update on him, all I needed to do was look him up on the website for our local court.

That's how I found out that he has been in and out of jail endlessly over the

I feel for the guy, and to this day, I was glad he was around that day when that random guy with the pocket knife approached us.

As of now, this retelling has been on my mind, and I should note that Mike is in jail again. He was arrested for assault and battery with a dangerous weapon.

In September of 2023, he pled guilty and was sentenced to five years in prison. I am tempted to write him a letter, but given everything, I'm not so sure it's a good idea.

I've started to write him so I could enclose a copy of this story, but the more I think about it, the more it strikes me as a bad idea.

This is a story of someone I knew that I had to cut ties with. I'll begin by explaining the context as to why I cut him off.

It started about four years ago when I was living in a friend's house while attending a nearby university. Living in this house, it was myself, my friend, my sister, and their parents.

Roughly two weeks into staying there, my friend's sister's boyfriend moved into the house as well. By all accounts, he was a pretty cool guy at first.
He was very sociable and full of great stories.

We often sat around the table for drinks or just talked about life while having a smoke in the garden.

However, after the first month, he started to get comfortable and cracks started to show in the veneer that he had been crafting so carefully.

He started ranting about government conspiracies and how he was always a wronged party.

He was big into sigma male bullshit, but he was also into martial arts and Christ, and he did turn out to have a temper. He also had this big dog that he always kept in a cage.

This poor dog was extremely violent whenever he wasn't around. The dog wound up attacking his girlfriend and had to be put down.

And that's when he started running guilt trips on her, and his ranting became incessant.

About two months after his real behaviors started coming out, he was talking about living in a shipping container and dragging his girlfriend along for the ride.

This was mainly because the parents of the household wanted him out.

He had a specific shipping container in mind, and everything.

It was one of those chic shopping containers that had undergone a restoration job. This was a rented container in a storage yard on the outskirts of town that we were living in.

That didn't pan out for him since he intimidated and threatened the staff at the storage yard constantly until they called the police. This, of course, was just another conspiracy.

This caused him to become increasingly abusive to his girlfriend to the point that the family got involved to get her away from him.

When that happened, I stuck close to them after pretending to be on his side so that she could be taken to safety.

They then broke up, which he blamed me for. He claimed I was poisoning poisoning her against him.

We all blocked this guy on everything possible, but he still found ways to harass all of us until he eventually disappeared. Or so we thought.

Fast forward to last year. My friend's sister has since dusted herself off and found a new partner with whom she's very happy.

I suddenly started to receive messages over social media from different accounts. Some of the messages were friendly while others were hostile.

I started blocking the account holders sending these messages when I got suspicious of who could be behind them.

However, one of the profiles that was messaging me was imitating somebody that I knew from university.

We talked about life and how things were going, and eventually I was invited to a house party with plenty of people going.

It sounded fun, so I booked the time off of work, made the plans to go, and kept talking to this friend as the date of the party approached.

I then mentioned the party to my friend's sister who said that she was interested in going herself, but when I mentioned the address, she panicked.

Turns out the address I had given her was to a property belonging to the father of my friend's sister's crazy ex.

When I looked it up myself, I saw that it was on the market for sale.

I waited until the day of the party and called the police to check the property, claiming a suspected break-in.

They went and checked it out. They found five people in that house, including the ex.

Parked right out in front was a refrigerated butcher's van equipped with a collection of knives, hammers, and rope.

I'm very glad that I did not go to that party.

This happened when I was four. While I don't remember all of the minor details, my mom does, so with her help, I retraced the story.

I was suddenly reminded of it when I heard a similar story, and I'll try my best to explain while adding in the bits from my mom's memory. We used to live in a very rural area at that time.

We owned a small farm. Most people in that area had their own farmlands, but the houses were located about five miles away from the area area where the farms were.

At that time, we only had one cell phone, and my father used to keep it with him all of the time.

We didn't even have a landline at our house, but there was a public telephone booth two blocks down that a lot of people in the neighborhood used.

It was around summer, and there was this group of people in town who were notorious for stealing crops, and occasionally they'd even rob people.

They especially targeted women working alone on the farms. My father had a regular job in addition to managing the farm, so he would leave very early and come back late at night.

Normally, my mom would manage the farm by herself, but since these people were actively going around robbing people, she stopped going there for a while.

Most people in our neighborhood worked on their farms during the early mornings, and they kept going until the evening, so our neighborhood was pretty desolate during the day.

My mom was very careful about locking the main doors and windows, though, so there wasn't much to worry about.

My grandpa from Mom's side of the family was visiting, and he's a very big, tall guy. I was playing at the dining table with my back facing the main entrance, and mom was in the kitchen.

Grandpa was in the guest room, as he had just arrived, so I assumed he was settling in or freshening up. The thing is, my mom forgot to lock the front door after grandpa came in.

I was facing my mom, telling her about whatever little me was doing, and she was facing the front door. I vividly remember feeling terrified by the sudden change in expression on my mom's face.

Now that I'm more aware of a wider range of emotions than a four-year-old would be, I can tell you that the look on her face was a mixture of dread, shock, and anxiety.

She dropped whatever she was doing in an instant and stood between me and the front door. She was shouting with the kitchen knife clutched in her hands.

As I peeked from behind her, I saw a woman with a sickle in her hand. The woman was in our house.
She was trying to make conversation as if it were totally normal for her to be there.

It was evident that she thought my mom and I were the only people in the house. My mom quietly told me to run to Grandpa, but I was crying not wanting to leave her.

Even though I was so young, I think I could probably sense the danger in the situation.

It had only been two minutes, and my grandpa came running from the guest room. He was yelling at the woman to get out of our house.

The lady with the sickle was trying to pretend that she just popped in to get some water and commented that our house was pretty.

But after more shouting from grandpa and my mom, she started backing away and finally left.

My mom shakily locked the front door right after the sickle lady walked out, and my grandpa tried to calm her down.

Later, my mom told me that the scariest part was that she didn't even notice the woman opening the door and coming inside.

She didn't notice the woman until after she was already in the house and walking towards us. I could have been seriously hurt and possibly taken hostage if she noticed any later than she did.

The woman didn't even flinch when my mom was shouting at her, even though she had a kitchen knife in her hand.

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Visita tu Los Masercano and East Arcas Avenue in Sunnyvale.

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Fairly recently, my girlfriend and I went to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio for a four-day vacation to experience their well-known Halloweends.

We're both avid fans of horror and thrill rides, so it seemed like the perfect little getaway for us to have a break from our daily lives and get our adrenaline fix.

Unfortunately for us, we weren't the luckiest, and we ended up picking the worst weekend to go.

The park had broken records that weekend since they had the highest foot traffic they had ever seen, and most of their better rides had wait times of two hours or more.

So we had to try and figure out something else to do in the area, outside of Cedar Point, as we didn't want to just wait in long lines for short roller coaster rides.

We began to look for things to do around the area, but with nothing piquing our interests, we began reading into local haunted locations, local cryptids, and scary stories from the Sandusky area to try and make our own fun.

For context, we both heavily believe in ghosts and spirits and have discussed the idea of learning about ghost hunting as a hobby in the past.

We have also both had real-life ghost encounters, such as seeing shadow figures on the road, doors closing on their own, strange technology manipulation, those kinds of things.

As we did our research, we came across an infamous location in the Ohio area called Gore Orphanage.

The name in and of itself was sufficient enough to grab our attention, but as we read more, we found out that there's a lot of really tragic history surrounding this place.

As the story goes, there was a mansion in that area, and after the tragic death of two people, it was repurposed into an orphanage.

The orphanage was founded in the early 1900s and infamous for child neglect. It was also reported that children were abused there.

Supposedly, the staff would cook food for the children in the same pot that they used to boil soiled underwear.

And the rooms that the children were kept in were filthy, often infested with rats and leather strap beatings were all too common.

It's also rumored that the orphanage was burned down and the children and staff who were trapped inside were all killed.

Some locals say the story of Gore orphanage gets confused with the Collinwood disaster, which involved an elementary school that burned down and 176 elementary school students were burned to death.

For reference, the orphanage and the school are just 40 miles apart.

As we dug a little deeper into the area, we found many different stories that concerned us a bit.

In one of these stories, a local claimed that he encountered a satanic cult with his friends while exploring the area at night.

There was also a murder that occurred in that area when an elderly woman was hung in the woods right by Gore Orphanage. We even read a story about the bridge that leads to Gore Orphanage Road.

Allegedly, a woman threw her baby into the water and watched as he drowned to death. There are claims that say sometimes the baby can be heard crying from the bridge.

This story is so common that the bridge has been nicknamed Crybaby Bridge.

Now, for many people, this would be enough information to make them not want to explore the area or even go near it. But my partner and I aren't scared easily.

We chalked all of these stories up to local campfire stories or urban legends. We decided to see for ourselves what the commotion was all about.

We originally planned to go out there after dark, but decided to go out just before dusk after reading that people were getting in trouble with the police for going at night due to drug use and other suspicious activity in the area.

We arrived at around 6.30 which gave us enough time to explore the area while it was still light.

Right before the bridge leading to Gore Orphanage, there is a little turnoff spot where you can park. So we decided to park there and make the half-mile trek to the orphanage.

We got out of the car and locked it behind us, then walked across the graffiti-covered metal bridge.

We decided to cross the bridge slowly to see if we could hear any crying or see any other signs of the area being haunted, but we didn't. So we kept walking down the road.

For those of you who are listening, I'll try to paint a picture of what walking down this road is like. On the left side is a steep embankment covered in trees.
On the right is a cornfield.

It's your standard issue American country back road.

As we began to get closer to where the orphanage was, we started to notice the distinct smell of fire.

However, upon looking around, we didn't see any any signs of a campfire anywhere, no smoke, no heat, no flickering light, nothing.

It was a little bizarre. We both commented on how strange that was, and I made some goofy comments about how it could be the cultists coming to get us.

As we continued walking, a truck passed us which scared us a bit as we expected to be the only ones out there.

However, we were immediately relieved when we saw a dog in the back seat as we figured the man driving the truck was probably just out there walking his dog.

The closer that we got to the site, the more uneasy we became.

As we got within 100 feet of the wooded entrance to the ruins, we noticed a distinct and instantaneous temperature change.

With most ghostly encounters, the temperature tends to drop, and what was weird was that we noticed that it got very warm.

It was like we had walked up to a heater.

What made it even more strange was the fact that the closer we got to the orphanage, the more shade there was from the trees.

So if anything, it really should have been getting colder as we got under all that shade.

Regardless, we continued and entered the wooded area that surrounded the remaining rubble of the old orphanage.

Not much is left of the old building, save for some stone slabs and a concrete foundation post or two, all of which are covered in graffiti phrases that said things like turn back or leave now, and other things like that.

This was probably meant to scare tourists.

By the entrance of the wooded area, there was a charred tree that my partner and I both inspected.

It seemed to have been there for a long time as the charred bits of the tree felt plastic and almost artificial.

One of the things I noticed immediately upon walking into the wooded area was a sense of lingering dread and the light sound of knocking on the trees.

About every thirty seconds or so, knocking could be heard coming from all different directions. We originally thought that it could be a woodpecker.

However, after looking around, we found no sign of any birds at all.

The only thing we found were a few chipmunks running around, which of course startled us as they scurried through the leaves.

My girlfriend wandered a few feet away from me to take some pictures as I explored a small area that contained the majority of the old foundation pieces that remained.

While looking around, I heard a child scream. It came from the distant trees.
This sent a small shiver down my spine. I asked my partner if she heard it as well, and she had.

Despite this, we decided to follow a small path, a little deeper into the woods to see what else we could find.

I was following about 15 feet behind my girlfriend when I noticed the smell of fruity perfume.

I stopped and she asked me what was the matter. I told her about the smell.
She asked if it was her perfume that I smelled, but it wasn't.

I know exactly how she smells, and this was like something a little girl would wear. It was also very strong as if someone had sprayed it right in front of me.

As we kept walking, I smelled it again.

The uneasy feeling began to feel very overwhelming the further we went on this path.

After about two or three minutes, we came to the end of a path and noticed some more man-made stones that I decided to check out.

My girlfriend stayed on the path and observed from above as I reported what I found to her.

As I turned back to look at her, I heard something that sounded like it was coming from right behind her. This made my hair stand on end.

I decided to take a picture of her to see if I could catch something standing behind her, but my camera quality was too low to notice anything.

In any case, we decided that we had enough and that we should leave.

You would think that this was the creepiest part of the story, but it's not. What happened as we were leaving made me the most uncomfortable I've ever felt in my life.

As we made our way back to the clearing outside the woods we noticed two cars had pulled up, one of which was a black SUV and the other was a pickup truck with three men.

We stopped for a second as we were still on edge from our experience in the woods.

After watching the black SUV turn around and go back out the way that it came, three gentlemen got out of the truck and started fiddling with their passenger side door. It seemed to be broken.

Nothing seemed to be off, so we felt it was fine to continue. As we started walking on the road to get back to the car, our sense of dread began to diminish.

Then, after just a few minutes of walking, we noticed an old classic blue and white striped Chevy pickup truck careening around the bend at 55 miles per hour.

It was burning rubber as it almost drove off the side of the road. As the truck approached, the guy driving rolled his window down and commented that he almost made a mistake there, and laughed.

As a socially awkward guy, I uncomfortably laughed in return and kept walking.

I didn't think anything of this at first and assumed he was just some reckless local seeking approval for the cool drift that he just tried to attempt.

My girlfriend, however, immediately felt uneasy about the guy and picked up her pace to a power power walk to get back to the car.

She told me to pick up my step as well.

I tried to reassure her, but after a minute or two, I heard a car approach us from behind.

We both turned around to see the same blue and white Chevy truck had made a U-turn and it was coming back towards us.

He was driving as recklessly as he had been earlier and slammed on his brakes to stop just two or three feet away from us.

I motioned to my girlfriend to keep walking, hoping that if we ignored him he would go away, but he kept aggressively inching his truck closer and closer to us.

At this point, I turned to look at him and got a good look at his face. He had a greasy, receding hairline and an uncomfortably cheesy grin plastered on his face that unsettled the both of us.

He lifted his hand and motioned from behind the closed window.

He was doing the single-fingered gesture to my girlfriend, telling her to get into the truck.

I stepped in between her and the truck and motioned for him to leave.

I could tell from his face that he was angry at this rejection, and he peeled away with his tires spinning aggressively as he drove back over the bridge.

My girlfriend and I were both thoroughly uncomfortable and booked it for the car, locking the doors behind us as soon as we got in.

Then I pulled the car around and drove us out of there as fast as I could.

We were both in shock at what had just occurred, to the point where we didn't say much of anything to each other for at least ten minutes.

And for the entire 45-minute drive back to the hotel, I was regularly checking my rear-view mirror for any sign of the guy's truck behind us.

I didn't want him to follow us to where we were staying, but thankfully there was no sign of him.

I don't know what that guy wanted or what he was thinking. Regardless, though, we considered ourselves very lucky that he didn't have a gun.

I think that the only thing that saved us was the fact that there were people just down the road at the park. In conclusion, I do not recommend going to check out Gore Orphanage.

And if you do decide to go,

don't go at night and don't go alone.

After being out there, I fully believe all the stories I have come across about that place now.

The best warning I can give you is that if you do go there and you see a blue and white old Chevy pickup truck run, get back in your car, get out of there, and don't go back.

You might not get as lucky as we did.

Thanks for listening and stick around after the music if you're a patron for your extended ad-free version of this week's episode.

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This week you have heard Winter 2014 Unknown Attacker by According Rhubarb 715. My Creepy Paper Route Customers by Build-A-Bear Wife Swap.

He threatened to kill me by Powder Fresh.

Creepy Happenings from 1969 to 1970 by W. Horton59.
Narrowly Avoided Being Murdered by Luke. Unwelcome Guest with a Sickle by Anonymous.
I do DoorDash as a side gig by Yumi.

A Suited Man Followed Me to My Hotel Room by Boba Bastard. And finally, My Experience with Gore Orphanage by Specific Occasion 307.

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.

As always, if you have a story to share, send it to Let's Not MeetStories at gmail.com to hear it on the show.

And make sure to check out the new episodes of my other podcasts, like Odd Trails, Cryptic Encounters, and the old-time radio cast at crypticcountypodcasts.com or wherever you get your podcasts.

And finally, you can follow me on twitch.tv/slash crypticcounty if you want to catch one of my streams. I'm live every Monday and Thursday evening at 7 p.m.
Pacific.

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

I'm a medical resident. When I was in medical school, I had a creepy experience with one of my clients.

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