Summer Time Salking

I’m currently a 54 year old single mother with two teenage kids. Over the decades I would say that I’ve acquired quite a few interesting stories from my youth. Unfortunately most of these such stories are not the friendliest. Many of them were shoved into my memory when someone I knew was stalking me.

I grew up in the city of London, Ontario, Canada from 1963 through to the early 90’s; however, if there was anything at all to say about London at the time; it would be that too many life threatening people lived there. From stalkers, to rapists, to serial killers; it was a dangerous place and it was wise to not get too friendly with anyone. Living a city like this all your life; you are bound to come across one or two of them. Unfortunate yes, but it was always like this.

I was about sixteen or seventeen, meaning the year was about 1979 or 1980. At this time it was summer and I started working at a truck stop and diner just a little ways away from London. It was half a mile away from my parents convenience store and my house. It was a lovely little establishment, as there were home cooked meals served everyday; and my boss was a wonderful lady who worked her ass off, although her husband was an absolute abusive knob head. There was about six of seven of us working there at the time, ten at most. I enjoyed working there for the first little bit as my boss and co workers were very kind to me, and overall it was an amazing job. The people who came in to eat seemed to enjoy the service; and my parents came on the Friday night when I was working for something to eat.

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The Summer Monster

I want to start off by saying I am now 21 and this is still happening, this is something that has been going on during the summer since before I was born but started getting bad when I was in summer vacation in middle school.

For more help to picture this, I live in mid-Michigan, not the drug and gun find parts, although I do live very close to a few hot spots. No, I live in the rural part. The part of Michigan that’s flat farmland with large patches of forests, where the DNR is constantly receiving stories of strange animals. The latest is an out of place big cat, er, cats I should say. Both jaguars and Panthers.

That’s not what I want to talk about though, I wish it was although I think this is way more interesting.

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A Living Dead Night

Here goes. I live in Tennessee & it was a mild summer night, not horribly humid like it usually was. A good night to go downtown & meander, being in the energy of my small city. I’m always paranoid to go alone because there are strange things & scary people out in the world. I was aware of that then & even more so now.

I felt like I needed to get out & breathe some fresh air; As fresh as it can be for a city, anyway. I asked my mother to come along & after walking for a while, we happened upon some event going on in a park. There had to have been at least 40 people around. It wasn’t like a ghost town or anything. It was a lively energy, with the sound of drums, laughter, & singing all around.

After a few hours of being there, things started to feel off. I felt like someone was watching me. I wanted to ignore it but my gut wouldn’t let me; it was as if a hand was twisting my insides. I kept seeing a dark figure out of the corner of my eye just sitting by the tree line. A sinking feeling weighed my stomach as I realized it was real, & that I wasn’t hallucinating. My brain fought to reason that maybe it was someone who was homeless waiting for the right time to ask for spare change. But my gut wouldn’t let it go.

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The Friendly Campers

So, this happened about a year ago, and I only witnessed about a portion of what occurred. The rest is from accounts by my friends. The asinine and illegal things we did in this story, I will not take accountability for. God, I love anonymity. Anyway, we’re a bunch of college students that have always had an affinity for road-trips. I like to think it’s a mode of escapism. As college goes, our bank accounts stopped accommodating trips around the east coast, so we took up camping instead. My best friend owns this land a few hours east of Scranton, Pennsylvania. We all elected to take this big camping trip by the end of the summer, and spent it preparing. We divided ourselves into two cars, split tents, food, drinks, ect among us. As we neared the spot, our GPS went out, so we relied on physical maps we brought with us. After an hour, we arrived at the site just about at dusk. We all unloaded our stuff, set up our tents, and built a nice bonfire: we delegated bonfire duty to one person and by God, he kept it lit the whole stay. The first night was fun. I got over the creepy ambiance of being in the middle of nowhere after 5 or 6 beers. We exchanged stories, pranked each other, and went to sleep. The second day, a group of my friends decided they were going to make the two hour drive to some hick town in order to get more firewood and snacks. I was in the group that stayed behind. According to them, they got lost in the morning fog, and ended up at the local store sometime after sunrise. After purchasing their stuff, they encountered a raggedy old man in the parking lot. Archetypal hillbilly: as hick as you can get on the eastern seaboard. He asks for a cigarette, they oblige, and then begins to berate them with questions. Stuff like, “What’s your name,” “Where are you from,” “What’re you doing here?” To the latter question, he is very interested. He asks where we’re camping and if he can stop by. They laugh it off, but he continues pushing. He says he’ll “hang out” with us, and doesn’t drop the subject, even as they’re reentering the car. By this point, they’re all too high to notice the guy hopping into his beaten-up, white pickup. In fact, they don’t think they’re being followed until they leave the paved roads and see him follow them onto the dirt trails leading back to the campsite. I attribute this to the drugs they were on, but they kept going back to the campsite. They said that they had no room to turn around and nowhere to go, but hey. Leading this guy back wasn’t good. Anyway, this whole time, I’m sitting at the fire, smoking, and have no idea what’s going on because of the absence of cell service. So, I see them rush back, hours late, and I say, “Where are the snacks, man? C’mon, where’s my breakfast?” They make a jumbled recounting of this guy that followed them miles back. At first, I think it’s another prank, but the fear plastered on their faces is palpable. They say he parked the car about forty feet behind theirs and watched them get out. I get the rest of us together, and we all decide to confront this guy. So, it turns out, he was coming first. We’re walking the twenty minute walk to the cars, and we see this dirty, old man in the clearing: holding a hunting rifle. We weren’t going to try and make a break for it or see what the guy wanted, so we decided to loop back around to the camp, and then try and make a wide arc to avoid him. So, we get back to the camp in half the time it took us to walk to the clearing and begin frantically packing our essentials in a high stupor. As we’re about to turn around and go, my friend points at that the bonfire is giving off a lot of smoke on account of all the leaves we used for kindling. So, it’s assumed that the guy can figure out exactly where we are. We stop our packing process immediately, and dip into the trees, running with reckless abandon to cover as much ground as possible. As we’re reaching the car, we hear gunshots in the direction of the camp. We get into our cars and floor it out of there. We reach a police station in the same town after making the same 2 hour drive to that town. We submit our report, even though we were clearly under the influence. They hold us at the station and send a car out to investigate. We’re sitting around, freaking out – more over the consequences of going to the cops high than the maniac, honestly. It’s late in the afternoon before the car returns and tell us what they found. The tents were both torn down and had shell casings and bullet holes in them. Aside from the food wrappers, they said barely anything was left behind. From our own accounting, the guy took our weed, our keg of beer, but also my friend’s wallet. We tell the police the latter, and he says they’ll continue to search around, but they didn’t find any cars around. We end up going home early, and my friend cancels his debit, gets a new ID, and we all haven’t heard anything since. Of course, the knowledge is still haunting that this psychopath knows who he is and, roughly, where he lives. I’m sure nothing will come of it. Nothing has, and it’s been a year. But I have no idea what this guy’s intentions with us were. What if he did catch us out there in the woods? What would he have done? We haven’t been back to that camping site since, but we do plan on returning this summer. It’s June, we’re going back in August: no drugs this time. We’re going to see what came of this, if the case is even still open. Regardless, I’ll update this as soon as we do.

The Red Face

I am an 18 year old female. This happened to me when I was about 14 or 15. My parents are not together & my dad lives in his parent’s basement due to financial problems from mistakes he made in his past. My parents had me right out of high school so they are both very young.

Because of his age & living with my grandparents, I’ve always felt like my dad was more of a brother than a dad. He loved to scare me when I was younger & he still does. He would always make me watch scary movies & wear Halloween masks around the house & try to jump out at me. As I got older he would even wait for me to get home & hide behind a tree in our yard & jump out with a knife at me just to see my reaction.

At first my dad scaring me all the time made me a scaredy cat about everything. I was basically scared of my own shadow. As I got older though my dad told me he was trying to scare me so much that it would be harder to scare me when I got older. & I think it worked. As a 5’2 110lbs female I don’t scare easily now. I’m probably more confident than I should be if I was in a bad situation. & as messed up as it seems I have my dad to thank for that.

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Summer Break in Blue Ridge

This past Summer break, my sister and I went to the mountains in Blue Ridge, Georgia. We rented a cabin and were pretty excited to get there. It was about a 2 1/2 hour drive through mostly mountain roads. The GPS was pretty spotty, and I’ve had trouble with it before where it would get confused and send me a really roundabout way to my destination.

As soon as we started getting deeper and deeper into the trees, we started noticing some pretty creepy stuff. At one point, we drove by what looked like a dilapidated old trailer. We were driving pretty slow at this point because we were on a curvy gravel road. We were just being jerks and giggling at how rundown this place was when we noticed that a bunch of people started filing out of it and just stared at us as we drove past. Needless to say, I tried to go as fast as my little 4 cylinder car could handle.

That wasn’t the creepiest part, though. At one point, my GPS started getting REALLY confused, and kept trying to tell me to turn onto roads that didn’t exist. And I don’t mean ‘oh, there used to be a road there, but there isn’t anymore’ no- there were obviously never any roads where it kept wanting me to turn. I just kept going straight and watching the GPS glitch. Finally, for a brief moment, it stopped telling me to turn onto nonexistent roads and just said ‘EYES IN THE TREES’ instead of any road name or direction. Then, it blinked again and was giving me correct directions again.

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