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.

I only worked at this place for about a week or two, I actually quit due to a boy the same age as me that I will call Elliot for this story.

Elliot was a relatively attractive guy, tall, blonde hair blue eyes; basically Disney Prince material if he wasn’t such a huge nut case; but I didn’t know that at the time. He worked in the truck and bar area of the building, and out of the whole time I worked there, I only talked to him once. Although I suppose that was all the time he needed to figure out that I was his brand new obsession; which opened a can of worms that were endlessly dumped on my head for the next three years.

You see, during our conversation it was as if he went into a trance like state; he started going off about war and morbid topics in that area and if I’m being completely honest; that was more than enough to convince me to stay away from that guy. Not because he was talking about war; but because of how quickly he went off topic to our original conversation and how strange he acted whist in the trance like state. Alas; I wish I could say that’s where the story ended.

Like most jobs, phone numbers of each one of the staff members were posted on the wall inside the staff room, encase anyone ever needed a shift covered. I guess before I quit, Elliot wrote down my phone number because, just before I quit; I started to get strange phone calls from who I assumed at the time was him; back in the eighties you couldn’t track phone calls since they were landline phones; so I was pretty much screwed and couldn’t talk to the cops since I didn’t have evidence.

The things he would say on the phone to me are what I can only describe as disgusting and honestly made my skin crawl, it didn’t help that I would get a phone call every time I had seen him earlier on in the day. Even if I may not remember every call word for word, I can certainly remember the way the phone calls would start out. Nearly every one would start out with a mans heavy breathing. Now imagine being home alone, just relaxing after coming back from a day of shopping and picking up a ringing phone, only to hear heavy breathing. As a teenage girl, it is fair to say that it scared me shitless.

One of the first instances where it got really creepy, was when I was out at a bingo with my folks and a friend of mine.

At this time I was still working at the diner. My sisters daughter, who I grew up with, was working in my parents shop that night and I had told her if anyone called and asked for me; just tell them that I was out, and would be back later to get back to them.

The bingo when as normal as bingo in a city full of criminals, alcoholics, and farmers could go. My dad yelling about how stupid bingo was, my mom didn’t really give a fuck and just wanted to enjoy the game; and my friend and I were holding back the urge to yell at my dad for yelling at bingo. Believe it or not; it was actually quite fun.

As fun as the bingo was, on the drive home it was unavoidable that we’d have to drive past the area where Elliot lived. I just continued watching our surroundings when out of nowhere, Elliot appeared on his bike and acted as if he was going to head on collide with us. All of us knew he was fucked up, but I didn’t expect him to act suicidal like that. When I had got home, my niece explained that Elliot had called several times on end, wanting to talk to me; I suppose it was scarier that when he was on his bike; he was coming home from the direction of my house.

Long after I quit working at the diner, I was working with one of my friends at a kiosk restaurant in a Walmart that day; when my co worker spotted a man hiding in the racks of the ladies wear department, which was right across from us.

“That guy has been staring over here for quite some time now.” She told me, seeming skeptical yet a little scared. I had no clue what she was talking about until I turned to see Elliot hiding himself in the clothing racks of the ladies wear department, to say the least it was scary as hell and I felt like straight up puking, what was worse was that; since there was no buses going out to the area of London that I lived in, I had to thumb a ride home.

I ended up getting off early after explaining to my manager what was going on.

It wasn’t a surprise to me when I got yet another one of his calls; but I got a little angry when he started to talk. It was as if he hadn’t had a drink of water in days; his voice was so raspy you could hardly understand him; but nonetheless, I was pissed.

“You Slut” He growled darkly into the phone and began to call me other vulgar names. I really didn’t care for the guy but it seemed that I wasn’t going to lose him anytime soon. It was a week after when I lost my shit on him though.

Earlier that day, when I was working in my parents store; he came in. I recall him buying a drink for himself, like a pop or coffee.That evening, like every ‘normal’ phone call I got from him, it started off with heavy breathing before I budded in.

“Listen buddy, I know who you are, and I know where you live. Stop calling before I get the cops at your door, then, maybe we can see how you like being harassed” I shot to him. I really don’t think you could blame me for getting pissed off. At that point, it was already released to the public that this guy was a fucking werido. Near the end of his days, which I might add; were spent still stalking me, he was caught behind a local pub in downtown London with grenades with the intention of setting them off.

I felt like our conversation subject change the only time we ever thoroughly spoke to each other, connected to this event. Later on, the last day of his life and the last day of my fear of him; proved it to me loud and clear.

He had been shooting at a bunch of low rent townhouses in the area, most likely aiming to kill someone.

According to records, he nearly killed a baby in its crib that day. A police standoff would have happened, but the law knew better than to all of a sudden stand off to a insane young adult such as him. Though their wait was short lived when they heard a gunshot; he had shot himself in the chest. Speculations after he died were whether or not he suffered for the shot.

Despite the three years I was tormented by this kid, there is one thing about his death that makes me a little sad to think about. Almost no one went to his funeral.

After almost four decades, I haven’t thought of those three years all that much.

I moved way out west to British Columbia, and I haven’t been back to Ontario at all since 2003 when my dad passed. Of course it has had its ups and downs, but I now have two beautiful kids, I have gotten in touch with a few of my old Ontario buddies as well. I grew up with stressful situations, but I guess for me; looking back forty years later; it has really been somewhat of a learning experience for me.

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.

Starting since I was around the mid-90’s or so, something comes around every summer. Just, stalking the roads and forests.

My first encounter was in fifth grade, before then I was always really sick as a kid so I was never outside much.

But as I got older and stronger I started fairing much easier with the outside world. On my parents house we have tons of feral cats, close to a dozen on average, and of course they have kittens. At the time I had a big collie named Barney, who has sadly passed away since this incident.

See, Barney liked to cuddle the kittens regardless of their age, meaning the kittens would go into shock being stolen from their mom by this giant ball of love. We would have to go outside and take the kittens from the poor dog and give them back to their moms, this was usually easy. Well, up until this summer I never noticed much of a problem at least.

I went outside our house and started to look for the cats. I got around to the back of our house by our barn, around a hundred feet or so I could hear snapping. Not like, twigs snapping, but cornstalks. I looked up past our barn to the field by my house and saw this huge black shadow, clearly heavily covered in matted fur, tearing through the field towards me. I was frozen, I’ve never seen this before, I mean, I’ve watched spooky shows and been into cryptozoology my whole life, but nothing gets you ready for something like that.

Once fear kicked in and I decided to make a break for it, I ran for the house, grabbing a hot grill to try and make a path. By the time I got inside my parents were terrified, they knew I saw something and tried to console me.

See, they knew I saw something because a large unknown animal attacked my mom while she was outside one summer back in the 90’s, back when it first started showing up. She said she ran inside after feeling a bad guy feeling, only to have a giant animal try breaking down the front door.

My neighbors had also seen it, one of whom took off after it with a .44 and tried to shoot it to no avail after it got too close to his house with his young kids.

Fast forward around a week or two later, me and my mom both go back outside, same deal, missing kittens with the big cuddle bug, that whole thing.

This time we barely made it out the back door.

My flashlight went past our barn towards the woods behind my house, a neighbor had an old derelict truck and, horrifyingly, something was standing by it. I mean standing too, like, it was taller than the top of the truck. I just remember this horrifying rocking motion as it watched up, and these giant glowing eyes. I don’t remember much about color, I wanna say red or orange, but that was so long ago and I was too scared to look more.

My mom rushed me back inside and we quickly locked the door, making sure we could out as much space us and that thing as possible.

Now, I’m an adult now and this thing is still around. I used to have a room upstairs in my house, now I sleep in the basement, one big factor for the move was because some nights I could hear crunching of pebbles outside. Then slow breathing and shallow growls as something stood right by my window.

Then, you’d hear these screams from the woods. Something that still freaks me out to hear. Almost like a kid screaming but throw in some bass and then make that as feral sounding as you could. It always gets all the dogs in the neighborhood barking, even though none of us are too close to each other.

Also, one big thing I started really paying attention to, is a smell. Whenever it comes around it smells like rotten lettuce and a dead possum. This gross waft of it will come far before the thing shows up.

One of my more recent encounters happened with an ex. She was a skeptic and didn’t believe in much, but coming to my house for one evening steered her the opposite way.

We walked past my barn to go see if we could see raccoons. We have a mulberry tree, an apple tree, and a bunch of small sheds in the backyard past the barn. One shed always made me creeped out, rght back by that truck I mentioned earlier.

We got around ten feet from that shed, and without a warning this loud roar poured out from behind it. I hit the ground and she took off running. Once I got back up I booked it for my house, never looking back.

Since then it’s come around a few more times, it’s stomped loudly at me, I’ve heard more screams, I’ve ever found a lot of torn up deer and large broken trees behind my house in those woods. I know wildlife, I took a class on Michigan wildlife, but this isn’t anything I’ve met before. I carry guns at all time, either a 9mm handgun or a 7.62 rifle, just in case. It isn’t scared of humans and I don’t want to risk it.

I’ve came across cool stuff with it before, I got to talk to Linda Godfrey, THE Linda Godfrey who first reported the beast of Bray road, about it. She suggested it was a Sasquatch and not a werewolf like most of my friends think.

One of my favorite things I have got to do because of it though? That was cast a footprint and take a photo. I still have both as photos on my phone, which I’ll try my best to upload, if not I’ll figure out a way to get them to you guys. But, due to both, even the DNR is at a loss with my photos, they can’t figure out what they show.

So, there you go, that’s my whole story. Sorry for it being all over the place, but with it not being on story it was hard to focus. Just remember to be careful outside, it might be really dangerous and you wouldn’t even know it. You might have an unknown animal creeping around after all

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.

Not long after, I see a young girl. Pale skin, dark hair, bubbly. She was alone, wandering off by the trees. Where were her parents?

I watched as she curiously moved towards the dark figure waiting in the cover of the shadows. Hurrying, I found my mother & began to explain what was happening. She followed a few feet away as we watched the figure haltingly reach out his hand to the girl. She touched his finger tips as he walked forward into the light. Terror doesn’t quite cover what I felt in that moment, but it will have to do. Have you ever seen something go down that you’ve never seen in real life, & your brain just can’t process what happened? THAT is what happened. He was unnatural. His skin was a grayish violet color, the combination you usually see with a healing bruise. His clothes were dirty & ripped. Moving a bit closer, I could smell that he.. smelled like rotting flesh. Then he moaned. I stood there, mouth opening & closing like some stupid fish, rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe or speak. Had his attention turned to me, I’ve no doubt I would’ve been injured if not killed. Suddenly, A man came from behind us & grabbed the girl away from this being. Afterwards, the dead fiend stumbled back into the dark. We didn’t see him after that, but we were more concerned with the girl & finding her parents. The father didn’t even seem to care that his daughter was almost taken by a perceived dead man.

The man who saved the girl later told me that thing was a zombie. He was dead serious that this was the living dead in the flesh. He mentioned that the homeless in the area sleep on the grave stones of the oldest cemetery in the city. & that as they slumber, they breathe in bacteria or fungi that zombifies their brains. My boyfriend believes me, but the rational side of him wants to believe that maybe the guy was on hardcore drugs. But he wasn’t there, & he didn’t see it. The readers can draw their own conclusions but honestly, after what I saw, I don’t doubt the mans claim one bit.

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.

But this story takes place when I was still scared of my own shadow. My dad smokes & wasn’t allowed to smoke inside the house so he’d have to go outside no matter how late it was. Anytime my dad was outside he’d yell at me to come here & try to tell me there was someone outside & in the woods by our house. Or he’d run in & say someone was after him. Of course I knew he was joking, but I was still afraid. One time he even locked me outside & told me people in the woods were coming for me. I even had to bang on the door to wake my grandparents up to let me in!

My experience happened very late at night. I was in the basement with my dad. He was asleep on one couch & I was watching South Park on the other. All of a sudden I heard tapping on one of the basement windows. At first I didn’t think much of it, probably some animal. Then it got stronger & sounded like rocks being thrown at  all the windows in the basement.

I ran upstairs to my room as fast as my short legs could carry me. I decided not to wake my dad up because he had work in the morning & my grandparents would just shrug the incident off if I woke them up. So I thought I’d be a good idea to call my boyfriend & tell him what happened because it’d make me feel better. My bedroom is on the second floor but my house is built on a hill so my window is actually close to the ground. As I was on the phone with my boyfriend It got unnaturally quiet outside. I couldn’t hear the bugs chirping anymore. It was like that silent moment right before something bad happens in a scary movie. Out of nowhere a blood curdling scream came from right out side my window. It sounded like a horror movie scream. Even my boyfriend heard it.

I hung up & ran straight to my dad. I’ve never been so shaky in my life. I told him I thought someone was outside my window & explained everything. He grabbed a knife from under the couch because he’s paranoid & always sleeps with a weapon near by. We both went outside into the black. It was hard to see anything, but we could hear a lot. It sounded like someone walking on leaves. All around us. I stayed behind my dad as he went further in the yard. I remembered about my phone & took it from my pocket & started taking pictures all around us hoping to get anything. Everntually my dad told me to get inside & I waited a few minutes for him to follow. He said he didn’t see anyone but someone was defiantly out there.

Now, my dad takes pictures outside with his phone & get’s orbs & all kinds of weird looking mist in his picture, but I always thought he edited them. I was never more wrong in my life. I told my dad I took pics so maybe we got a glimpse of the guy. Looking through the all the pictures we noticed a red dot in the background of a picture. When zoomed in it looks like a face with hands up by it’s cheeks. The first picture isn’t edited. The second picture has a filter to make the face easier to see. I don’t think it was human because there’s no body & we never saw anyone out there.

I’ve always felt like I’m being watched when I’m at my dad’s. Especially in the basement & outside at night, but I always thought it was my imagination & being scared so much. This might not be a really scary story to you, but to me it is. This whole time I thought the woods people, the pictures he took, & him saying someone was outside was just him trying to freak me out. I never thought it could actually be true. I don’t know what scares me more, the fact I caught something in my picture. Or the fact that my dad locked me outside in the middle of the night all alone with that thing.