[0:14]One of the benefits of my job is that I get to travel all around the world. It's taken me to some amazing destinations like Greece and Italy, although most of the time, I stay within the US. A few years ago, my job took me to a mountainous region in the Northeastern United States called the Adorandax. If anyone's familiar with the area, you know what I'm talking about when I say it's beautiful in the fall. The leaves change and it makes the mountains look like you're in a fairy tale or something. It's incredible. Usually, my job pays for a hotel, but this time I wanted to spend some much needed alone time in the mountains. So I went through Airbnb to find a secluded mountain home for the weekend. I found a beautiful home that was nestled in the trees and had an incredible view that looked down part of a mountain from the back deck. This place was exactly what I was looking for. There were a few trails right by the house that I could jog on in the morning. And as I said, the back deck had an amazing view that I could just sit and relax and take in all the scenic beauty. For privacy reasons, I'm not going to reveal the name of the woman who posted the property on Airbnb. My work obligations were only in the late afternoon and early evening, so I could spend most of my time at the house. I got to the house later on Friday, and I didn't do much except have a few drinks on the deck. I called it an early night. I woke up around 6:00 a.m. on Saturday and went for a jog on the trails that surrounded the house. You know that horrible feeling that you have when you're being watched? Well, I had that feeling for my entire jog. I blamed it on the anxiety of just being alone in the wilderness, since I'm technically a city person. After my jog, I took a shower and just hung out around the house for a few hours. I kept hearing weird noises, but once again, I just kept telling myself that it's my anxiety. I was in a wooden cabin up in the mountains. Of course, there were going to be all sorts of noises. I left the house a little after 3:30 in the afternoon and made my way into the town. I met my co-workers at a local restaurant, and we took care of our business. After all of that, we decided to go out for a few drinks. I didn't want to admit it to myself or anyone else, but I was freaked out to go back to the house. I don't know if it was the feeling of being watched and all the strange noises or if the remote location was just a little too remote for me. Whatever it was, I was happy to take my time getting back. I even offered to have a little after party at the house, but my co-workers decided to turn in a little before 10:00 p.m.. I put the fear beside me and made my way back to the house. I spent the entire drive trying to communicate with the irrational part of my brain that was freaked out. I repeated to myself over and over again that it's just a house, houses make noises, and I'm safe. I'll lock the doors and triple check that I've locked them before I go to bed. I got back to the house at about 10:45. I was relieved how tired I was. Even with all my nerves, I was confident I could fall asleep. I did indeed check all the locks three times and then tried to go to bed. I spent the next few hours tossing and turning. I would drift away for a little bit and then hear something outside and be wide awake for 20 minutes. I tried turning on some music with my phone to drown out some of the noise, but the distraction of the music was keeping me awake. It was only a matter of time before I started hearing the noise again, even with the music playing. It was a little after midnight when I decided to go smoke a cigarette and contemplate just leaving early, since I was already wide awake. I grabbed my coat, my phone and my sigs and made my way downstairs. The stairs came out into the living room, and if you turned left at the bottom of the stairs, you would see a large open room that served as a dining room and a kitchen. The back of the room had a sliding door that led to the back deck, which was my current destination. I took one step into the dark room, and I thought I could see a shadow in the kitchen that was causing some of the moonlight from the window to be obstructed. I felt that horrible pit in my stomach turn into a cyclone as I just stood there. I kept telling myself that it was just shadows, and it was nothing to fear. I decided to confront my fear and turn the light on. And the image of what I saw is still burnt into my brain, and is one of the scariest images I've ever seen. Standing in the kitchen, clear as day, was a man. He was probably six feet tall with long shaggy hair and a thick beard. I would say he was late 30s if I had to guess. There was a brief standoff where neither one of us did or said anything. It couldn't have been longer than 10 or 15 seconds, but that specific moment felt like it lasted hours. He was hunched over a bit and just staring at me. With no notice, the man lunged at me with a full sprint. Thankfully, there was a counter in the middle of the kitchen, so he had to go around the counter, which gave me the time to run back to my room and lock the door. I realized that this is what stupid people do in horror movies, but at that moment, it seemed like the best possible solution. For starters, I didn't think I could make it to the front or back door without getting caught first. And if I was able to escape, I didn't have my keys, and I didn't know if this man had a weapon or something. So I wasn't about to just run aimlessly into the woods. My room seemed like the safest place because I could lock the door, call 911, and just hope that the door's integrity would last until the police showed up. So that's just what I did. I locked the door, ran to the closet, and called the police. I told them the address and to hurry. The woman from this dispatch stayed on the line and told me that someone would be there soon. While I was waiting, the man started to beat on the door. They seemed like violent strikes on the wood of the door. After each strike, he would say the weirdest things, like he kept saying that he loves me and that he's changed. I got a good look at this man in the kitchen, and I knew without a doubt that I had no idea who this guy was. I started yelling back to the man that I didn't know him, and that he had the wrong woman, but it was like he couldn't hear me. He just kept yelling about how much he loved me and that he needed me back. I could hear the door starting to break. When I looked, I could see his fist starting to penetrate the wood of the door from him striking it repeatedly. I was so grateful that I heard sirens at this point. I heard several cars pull in, and they came at the perfect time. Just as the man was able to get his entire hand through the door, I heard a loud crash accompanied by the sound of the police yelling at the man. At the same time, I decided to jump out of the bedroom window, since it led to a small roof that I figured I could try to scale down. The crash I had heard right before was the police tackling the man to the ground just as he was about to get into the bedroom. I flagged one of the officers from the roof, and he helped me get down. The police arrested the man, and he continued yelling incoherently as they put him in the back of a squad car. They called the owner of the house, and that's when we finally started to get a few answers. This guy was the ex-fiancé of the woman who owns the house. Apparently, the guy had gone off the grid for a while after a bad breakup. The most disturbing part of all of this was the guy had been living in one of the closets of the house for a few days. Inside the closet, they found a bunch of beer cans and snack foods. I don't know why he didn't act sooner, but I'm so thankful he didn't, because this could have ended a lot worse for me. If I hadn't decided to get up for a smoke at that moment, this story could have had a much more tragic ending. The police told me that he had a knife from the kitchen inside his belt loop. It made me think to myself, I probably caught him in the act of getting the knife. The owner of the house felt horrible, and last I knew, the man was going to jail, but who knows. It's just so scary for me to think that I checked the lock three times, and it didn't even matter because this creep was already in the house. I guess you never know what can happen. This may be the only time in history that going outside for a smoke saved a life. Okay, so this is a weird story. I was freaked out in the moment, but for a while, I thought maybe I was just overreacting. It was almost two years ago, and I interviewed for a job that was in another state. It was about a five-hour drive. Instead of driving home after the interview, my soon-to-be wife suggested that I find an Airbnb to stay at for the night. I'm hopeless when it comes to apps like this, and I have no idea how to find a good place. She downloaded the app for me, found a place that looked nice, and it was only about a 10-minute drive from where the interview was being held. I booked the spot and got myself ready for the interview. The guy who owned the house was really nice. I was messaging him about why I was coming down, and he told me that if I wanted to, I could get into the house early that day, so I could get myself ready and prepared for the interview instead of driving for five hours and then going straight into the interview. I thought that was really nice. The owner sent me the code to get in and gave me all the instructions on how to lock the door. Well, it's literally one button, but still good to know since I had never used one of those keypad locks before this. My interview was at three. I had more than enough time to shower and get myself mentally prepared for the interview. When I plugged in the interview address into the GPS, it said nine minutes, so I planned on giving myself at least 30 minutes in case I got lost or hit traffic. After the interview, I grabbed some tacos and went back to the house. I thought the interview went well, but, of course, I spent the next few hours second guessing every answer I gave. I tend to do that when I'm nervous. I didn't do much of anything that night except eat, talk to my girl on the phone, and watch a movie. I know all these places are clean, but I still find it weird to sleep in someone else's bed. I'm just weird like that. It's why I don't travel a lot or go on vacation. I planned on sleeping on the couch and heading out first thing in the morning. The living room was cozy. It had a big, fluffy wrap around couch that was in front of a fireplace. Above the fireplace was a huge TV. Just to sweeten the deal, the room also had surround sound. I was perfectly content just staying in this room all night and watching movies until I dozed off and went to bed. That sleep didn't last very long, as I was awoken by the sound of the doorbell. I just laid there for a few minutes and looked around. I didn't know if I was dreaming or if it was the movie or something. Then a few seconds later, the doorbell chimed again. I couldn't believe it. The doorbell was actually ringing. I grabbed my phone and saw that the time said 11:33. I couldn't imagine who would be ringing the doorbell at this hour. My first thought was just to ignore it. Then the bell rang again. Every time it rang, it made my heart basically jump out of my chest. At the fourth ring, I decided I was going to go check it out. I was thinking to myself, what if it were like the police or something? I cautiously made my way to the door, and before opening it, I looked out the front windows that gave me a somewhat view of the person. It was a skinny guy, and he was holding up a small brown bag in his hands. He had his head down and almost looks unresponsive. I went to the door and opened it, but left the screen door shut and locked. The light was dim, so I couldn't get a decent look at the guy. With his head still down, he told me he had my pizza delivery. Clearly, he wasn't holding a pizza. It was a brown paper bag. I politely told him I didn't order a pizza and that he had the wrong address. I shut the door and started heading back to the living room. The doorbell rang again. I marched back to the front door and opened it. Before I could yell go away or anything, he just told me again in an oblique and monotone voice that he had my pizza. When I shouted I didn't order a pizza, the guy responded by giving me the address of the house and said the delivery was for this address. I started to shout that it was a mistake, and I didn't order a pizza. And while I was shouting, I noticed that the guy was grabbing the screen door handle. I know I should have been more freaked out, but I was just annoyed. I slammed the door after yelling at him to go away before I called the police. After I slammed the door, I snuck back to the front window and again crouched down to look at what this guy was doing. He stood there for another minute and walked away. He had a beat-up red sedan of some kind. I couldn't tell what the make was. One of the front headlights was busted. Once I saw him get into the car, I felt a moment of relief. After that ordeal, I was ironically hungry. I grabbed something from the kitchen, and as I was walking back to the living room, I saw light still shining through the front windows. When I looked outside, this guy was still sitting in the driveway with his one high beam shining through the window. I decided to go upstairs and look out one of the bedroom windows since I would have a much better advantage point. Because the light was so bright, I couldn't see him sitting in the car, but I could see that the car was running. I was still more annoyed than anything else. My two thoughts were either calling the police or going outside and telling this guy to hit the road. I decided that I didn't want to bother the police with something that could be very small and maybe nothing. So instead, I'll just go outside and scare the guy into leaving. I threw my shoes on and marched out there like I was an Avenger. When I got to the window of the car, nobody was there. Without thinking, I turned around and ran back to the house, and immediately, I locked the door. I even locked the chain on top of the door. I was trying to ask myself why he wouldn't be in the car, but the car was still running. It didn't make sense to me. I grabbed my phone and went upstairs into the bedroom. I tried texting the owner of the house, but I didn't receive a message back from him right away. I continued to look out of the window for several minutes. I contemplated calling the police, but I kept telling myself that this isn't police work, and I'm blowing all of this out of proportion. A few minutes later, I looked out the window, and I saw the skinny man get back into his car, and it almost looked like he was coming from the direction of the front door. I watched him finally back out of the driveway, and he appeared to drive down the street and out of sight. I wasn't scared, but I was so on edge that I didn't really sleep. I spent the entire night watching YouTube videos while lying on the floor of the bedroom. At 4:00 in the morning, I decided to officially get up, shower, and then leave. As I was gathering my things and getting ready to walk out the door, I noticed something horrible. The front door was unlocked and ajar. Because the chain was locked, it wouldn't open any further. I just stood in amazement. I couldn't remember if maybe I left it unlocked by accident after the last incident. I was sure I locked it, but I didn't want to think about the potential alternative. Then it dawned on me that I for sure didn't lock the screen door when I ran inside. As the sun was rising, I made a run for my car just in case, and as I was backing out of the driveway, I noticed on the side of the front porch was the brown paper bag. I ran outside so fast that I didn't even notice it initially. I thought about going to see if anything was inside. But that was a question that in that moment, I didn't want answered. I drove away, and at the end of the street was a disgusting green house. And in the driveway, was an ugly red car with what looked like a broken headlight. It may be a coincidence, but it looked exactly like the car that sat in the driveway the previous night. The owner of the Airbnb messaged me that morning to apologize for missing my message last night and asked how the stay was. I told him about the delivery driver, the car in the driveway, the unlocked door in the morning, and the similar looking red car at the end of the street. He started typing because I could see the dots in the message, and then he never responded after that. I never bothered to look more into this situation until I started telling people the story. When I looked up the house more recently, it's not listed on Airbnb anymore, so I don't know what to think. It was unnerving and a little freaky for sure, but I truly wasn't that scared. I'm more scared now when I think about it because other people seem to think that this was almost some kind of set up. I'm curious to see what people think, if it all could have been just a crazy string of coincidences, or if I was almost a victim of something sinister. Let me start by saying that monsters exist in this world, and they're not ghosts or demons, but very real people who mean you harm. My family still hasn't recovered from the terror we experienced last summer, and I'm worried they may never fully heal. I'll start at the beginning and do my best to tell the story. My wife and I decided to take the kids on a small family vacation. Nothing crazy, just a few nights away at the ocean. I was surprised to see that finding houses on Airbnb was cheaper than the hotels that were available. My wife found this awesome place that wasn't right on the ocean, but it was only a five-minute walk, and it was way cheaper than staying on the ocean. The house was directly at the back of a dead end street, and behind the house was a creek, so it felt very private, which was cool. We got to the beach town in the mid-afternoon, and we spent several hours at the beach before heading to the house. My son was eight, and my daughter was 13, and usually they fight constantly. But something about being at the ocean caused them to play together like good siblings. This would probably be the highlight of the trip, because things started going downhill after that. We got to the house at 5:00 and unpacked our bags. The kiddos claimed their rooms, and we all got cleaned up from the beach. My wife brought a bunch of meals to cook instead of us having to go out every night. She loves to cook, which I love. There really is nothing better than a home-cooked meal. The deal is, she cooks, and I do the dishes. It seems like a fair trade-off. That night, we stayed up for a few hours and played Uno, and then we eventually went to bed. I slept like a baby that night. I wish I could have said the same thing about my son. The next morning, he looked exhausted at breakfast. The poor kid barely touched his food. When I asked him what was wrong, he just put his head down and didn't say anything. He almost looked embarrassed. After a little bit of prying, he finally caved in and told me what was wrong. He claimed that he saw ghosts the previous night. Yes, you heard me correctly. My eight-year-old son claimed to have seen ghosts. When I asked him to explain more, he told me that he saw the shadows move around in the backyard. He looked out the window and saw several shadows come up to the house and disappear for a while, then eventually go back into the tree line, which was right before the creek. He said one of the shadows even turned around at one point and waved at him. The poor kid was in tears while he was telling me. Whatever he saw or whatever he thought he saw, it clearly freaked him out. My wife and I, and even my daughter were giving him the ghost aren't real talk. It took a little while, but he finally started acting like himself again. We went to the beach that day and had another fun day together, hitting waves and building sandcastles. When we got back to the house, I noticed that the door wasn't locked. I asked my wife if she had locked it, and she wasn't sure. I'm compulsive about locking the door, and unfortunately, she isn't. I would have been more annoyed, but anything of value that we had was with me. And after a little walk around the house, nothing looked out of place. Another evening of cooking and card games, and then the kids went to bed around 10:00 p.m.. My wife and I stayed up for a little bit longer and had a few drinks. I didn't look at the exact time, but I would say it was nearly midnight when my son knocked on our bedroom door. He could barely talk. The poor kid was trembling. He said the ghosts are back, and they're in the backyard again. I sprang up and looked out all the windows, and I didn't see anything. I kept asking him to point them out, but he was too scared to even look out the window. The only thing that was admittedly a little weird was that the backyard flood light was on, but that could have been set off by anything, like the wind or even an animal. I spent the next few minutes trying to comfort him and tell him everything was okay. When he finally spoke, he barely got the words out. He said one of the ghosts tapped on his window. He told him that if he screamed, he would hurt his entire family. According to my son, he asked the ghost to leave him alone. And apparently, the ghost said he'd leave him alone if you opened the door. Instead of opening the door, my son came to wake us up. I was scared, but not because I thought ghosts were real. Rather because something was clearly terrifying my poor son. I was thinking maybe my daughter showed him a movie or something that he wasn't supposed to see, or maybe he was just homesick, since he hadn't traveled much as a family. That night, he slept with us, and I didn't sleep very well because I could feel him shaking all night. The kid was truly scared out of his mind. At breakfast, it was the same as the day before. He barely touched his food, and he looked like he was about to collapse into his scrambled eggs. I pitched an idea to him and the rest of the family. I propose that we have a camp out in the living room. We can make a fort and we'll all sleep together. It'll be like a family sleepover or something. The kids loved it, especially my son. If he was going to see the ghosts tonight, at least I'd be there with him.
[27:52]We played games for a while, but eventually, we all fell asleep. At 2:30 in the morning, my son was shaking me awake and said that the ghosts were outside. I got up expecting to see nothing, and I couldn't be more wrong. At the sliding door, were three hooded figures wearing these creepy black masks with these bulging white eyes. They almost looked like golf balls. I shouted some kind of nonsense out of fear, and that woke up my wife and daughter. As soon as they saw the masked figures, they started to scream and shout. During all the commotion, I saw one figure trying to open the sliding door, but thankfully, it was locked. My daughter, thinking quickly on her feet, called 911. I grabbed a big walking stick that was inside the house and approached the door. I realized that if they had real weapons, the walking stick would be useless, but I was in fight or flight mode, and I had to protect my family. I started yelling at them to leave my family alone, and they looked like they were taunting me, almost like they were enjoying the mental pain they were putting my family through. The person on the left side of the door pulled out what looked like a knife and started waving it back and forth. My family was in tears and continued screaming for their lives. I'll never forget those horrible screams. And then, out of nowhere, almost like a scene from a movie, I saw the person at the end get tackled by a police officer. The other two sprinted away, but didn't get very far, as they were also caught by the local police force. They were arrested, and when I saw the faces under the masks, I was almost more afraid. There were three young men, just normal looking guys. I found out months later that two of the men were 20, and one of them was 18. My son thought these three masked men were ghosts because it was dark and they were dressed in all black. When they were apprehended, I was informed that all three of them had a knife on them, not just the one guy who showed his knife. I'm convinced these random young men were targeting us specifically, considering they kept coming back. After talking extensively with local law enforcement, apparently, there's a group of punks in the area that target tourists, especially tourists with families. I guess they assume that tourists with families have more money, and when they have kids, they're easier targets. The police weren't overly concerned, which made me fear that this happens all too often. It makes me sad and angry that these types of people exist in the world. You hear stories like this all over the internet, but you never think it could happen to you, especially on vacation. The police seemed to think that they wouldn't have physically harmed us and they only wanted our money, but no one knows what they were capable of doing if they were able to get through that sliding door. Not to mention, the mental scars we got from this trip will last a lifetime. Sometimes the mental scars are much more painful than the physical ones. I don't actually know what became of these men, and thankfully, I'll never find out, because I will never be returning to that Airbnb or that beach town for the rest of my life.
