Episode 110

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Hey everyone. Welcome to Radio Rental. I'm Vince. Sorry it's a little rank in here like Siggy's. My bad. I'll crack a window and let me just hit a little for breeze. Wow. Smells like a nice fresh pine forest in here now. Oh, sorry about that malagai. I'll do a little less next time. Anyway, friend, cut me on a bit of a rough day. Slice my hand up real good yesterday. It was folding laundry. I forgot to take a tag off a new blanket. Narly. Needed to go for a little smoke out of ease the pain. Moving a bit slow. Anyways, let's pop in one of these scary stories for you. A few years ago, I moved back to my hometown in rural Oregon. I was struggling financially and a couple of my friends knew that, so they offered me to rent the tiny house on their property. The layout is kind of important because they rent the maintenance house and then there's a separate tiny house with a separate yard. There's a super high fence around it with a gate that opens into the alley in the back. I was excited because it was super private and it was also super affordable. To me, it was a great deal and I was just really excited to kind of get my life together and have my own place and not have to have a roommate. Probably three or four days into living there, I started to feel weird about it. I really can't explain exactly what gave me that feeling, but everyone knows what it feels like when you feel like you're being watched. Even when I had my dog with me, I just felt uneasy. Sometimes I would be getting ready for bed and I started to smell cigarette smoke in my bedroom. I really brushed it off because maybe someone was walking through the back alley, but we live in rural Oregon. It's not a super populated area. Not many people even know that alley is there. Someone would have to know it's there and be walking through there every single night smoking. I grew up there. I always felt really safe there. It was unusual that someone was going through the alley at night. I started to notice the cigarette smoke every night. I started to think perhaps it was my friends smoking in their backyard because their fence butts up against my fence. I know them personally and I knew that they didn't smoke, so I thought unless one of them is secretly smoking in the night, that would be unusual. I just kept trying to justify it. That coupled with the feeling that I was being watched just made me really feel uncomfortable in that place, I tried to kind of dismiss this feeling because I really wanted to make this my home. I wanted to make it cute. I thought that I could get settled there for a while. So I kind of pushed my feelings aside, but sometimes the cigarette smoke was so intense that it felt like someone was in the room smoking with me. That was a strange thought. I just tried to justify it every way I could because I thought it was either someone walking through the alley at night or my friends one of them could be secretly smoking every night. Things kind of went on like this for a while. I started to notice some other weird things. A couple times I came home in the evening and it was dark outside. My gate was open. I just tried to justify it any way I knew how. I thought I must have left my gate open. I can be forgetful. I also noticed that sometimes when I let my dog out to go to the bathroom at night, she took a while to come back and she is the world's best behaved dog and I would call her multiple times and she wouldn't come back right away. My dog was growling and looking towards the door and I shushed her. We were in a new place. I just thought we can't be growling and barking at every sound. We live in Oregon. There is nature. There's wildlife. There's squirrels and birds and all kinds of animals. It's not unusual to hear cats or whatever. About two months into living there, it was really late at night. It was dark. I was wearing a t-shirt and maybe just some socks. I just stepped outside to take my dog out to go to the bathroom. I smelled the cigarette smoke just like pretty much every other night and I thought I'll take my dog out to go to the bathroom. So I went to step outside. As soon as I went outside the door, there was a man standing in my yard. He was smoking and he was staring in my bedroom window. Neither of us reacted very quickly. You would expect him to see me, seeing him, and run really quickly away. But that's not what happened. He had this glazed look in his eye like he was out of it. And he was just staring into my bedroom. And I had to say, "Hey, for him to even fully register that I was there." And then as soon as he registered that I was there, that's when he kind of pivoted and started jogging out of my yard. Even his jog was not very fast. And just instinctively I started jogging after him, which I know isn't saying. It was just this spur of the moment. He's running. I can't let him get away because I knew they weren't going to catch him. And it was up to me. I just took off after the sky into the alley. And I remember stepping on like pine needles and pine cones. I saw him get away in the dark. And he was just gone. Just like with the smoking, just like with the gate open, just like with my dog not coming back, it felt like there had to be some reasonable explanation for this because there was no way, like statistically, how is this happening to me? I started to kind of gaslight myself into thinking, why would I assume that it's a stranger? And then standing there in the alley, With no shoes on, with a t-shirt on, in the dark, that was actually when I realized what was happening. Not only did I realize that there was a man in my yard and that I just chased him, but I also realized that he had been in my yard many times before. My mind was flashing back to every time I was smelling the cigarette smoke in my bedroom because I knew that he had been watching me. Was like awful to know that I had gotten out of the shower or whatever was walking around my room, getting dressed like a normal person, but other times it was boring, like mundane things. I would have my friend over, and we would watch the bachelorette or something. She was like, wow, that cigarette smoke is really strong. For two months or more, I had just been systematically watched by this person every night. And there were even a few nights that I woke up to the smell, like I woke up coughing because of the cigarette smoke. The realization that this person had watched me sleep was too much from me mentally. I called the police and I told them everything. They did a patrol, but they didn't find anything. Obviously, he had gotten away. Nothing was going to happen to him. After this happened, I looked at everyone with suspicion because I saw him, but I didn't see him because it was dark. And I started to see him and everyone I saw. That sounds crazy, but it was honestly like I felt like I was losing my mind. This had to be someone close. Obviously, that was a really uncomfortable and scary thought. Because this person also got away very quickly. How quickly can you get away unless you live closely? That was a horrifying thought that this person had easy access to me and knew exactly who I was. I started to think about all the times that I didn't lock my door and how things didn't feel right. And to this day, I will never know if he was ever in my house. I will never know. When I was gone for hours at my job, he could have been in my house and I wouldn't know it. That's an answer I'll never get. After this happened, the smell of cigarette smoke made me physically ill. It was such an obvious trauma response because even though I'm not a smoker, I knew immediately which brand it was whenever I smelled it. Anytime I smelled the kind of cigarette he smoked, it just made me feel sick. I would be out running errands and I would smell cigarette smoke and my heart would start to race. It was hard to function for a long time after this happened. People would assure me that these kinds of people don't escalate, but I know that that's not true. No one good watches someone sleep every night. Oh, okay, wait, hold on. In case you're thinking, you're thinking like what I'm thinking and connecting the dots, that wasn't me in the story. I actually quit smoking recently. I mean, I never even smoked, begin with, I don't know why it smells like smoking here. Looking for a horror podcast that is in murder to get through? Then check out another FN horror podcast. Our show where paranormal and true crime stories collide with unfiltered commentary. I'm Monique Sanchez and I name you trading. Each week Monique and I share one paranormal story and one true crime case, from unexplained phenomena to true tales of murder and mayhem. We find the stories you haven't heard before and research them obsessively to bring them to life. Follow or watch another FN horror podcast, wherever you get your podcast. Okay, we're back. Let's play another tape. Hold on, we grab it. Oh, dang it. I opened the wound on my hand. It's seeping. Oh, it's killing me. Here we go. I guess I've got to be a lefty from here on out. I was probably 15 or 16. I grew up in a house that was built in the 50s, 60s, creaky boards and stairs that made noise on their own. We're on them or not. I'm middle of three kids and both my parents still live in the home, so I knew everybody's footsteps in the house. It's one of those things. You know, people's footsteps when you hear them, you get used to it. It was middle of the night. My parents sleep down the home. My brother shares a wall with me. My sister slept in the basement bedroom downstairs. We all got to bed about the same time. We got in our rooms at about nine o'clock. It wasn't unusual to hear people like turning over in bed, but walking out in the hallway was uncommon. I'm sitting in my bed, lights on, computer, notebook or whatever. And I hear footsteps in the hallway. And it was one of those moments like you kind of stop when you listen. I heard them and I figured it's nothing. It's probably my dad. He woke up, get a drink of water or something, midnight snack, but the footsteps sounded off. It didn't sound right. He didn't really wear heavy boots. He wore dress shoes. And so I assumed maybe he's got a different pair of shoes on or something. He just put something on so he wasn't walking barefoot. And then I kept hearing it pacing up and down the hallway. I kept listening. I'd hide music playing my headphones, but at that point I'd take my headphones off because I was like, "I need to know what's happening. I can't quite tell." And then finally the footsteps kind of stop outside my door. Okay, maybe he's just trying to see if I'm asleep. Maybe he's trying to check in on me. Maybe he's mad that I'm up so late on a school night so I kind of held my breath and waited. And nothing. He didn't knock. He didn't say anything. He didn't acknowledge that I was still awake. I'm going to bed. I'm not going to deal with this. This is scaring me. Maybe it was just nothing. I'm imagining it. I'm scaring myself for no reason. So I'm trying to go to bed, and I'm laying there in the dark, and I'm just like, "Okay, I don't hear footsteps. This is fine. I'm safe. The alarm is on in the house. We're good." I woke up the next morning, and I could hear my parents talking in their bedroom. I went to go see what they've been talking about because my mom's at it upset. I walked down the hallway, and I kind of pushed the door open. I stepped in. And then it was like my dad was kind of just staring at me, waiting for me to say something like, "I knew something that he didn't." And then my mom waved me over. I was like, "Come here. I want to make sure you're okay." And I'm confused, I walk across the bedroom, like what's going on, why wouldn't I be okay? She's turning me around, checking my arms, checking my legs, trying to make sure that I haven't hit my head, that I'm not bleeding, and she won't explain why. And then she turns me, and I can see the door frame. All of a sudden it's not, "Are you okay? Did you do this? Is this supposed to be a joke?" I'm just sat there trying to process what all's happening because I've been awake, maybe 10 minutes, and I'm staring at the door frame. There was a hand print, kind of like a smudge at first until you look closer, and you realize it's not a blob, it's individual fingerprints. And then we opened the door, and it continued through the door frame. On this bright white paint, this dark brown red rusty color, these are adult handprints. These aren't a child, this wasn't my brother messing around. This wasn't a hurt animal in the house, this was somebody deliberately leaving a mark. My heart dropped out, my son had dropped. My dad's always been a very straightforward serious, so he assumed it'd been a joke or something. And so he was upset about it. My mom was just scared. My siblings came into the room, my mom was checking them over, trying to make sure that none of us had been bleeding or injured if any kind of, like, had come to talk to them all night and they just didn't wake up or whatever. But what scared us the most was that it was too high to be from, like, the pets or anything bumping into something and injuring themselves, because we looked them over, they were all fine, no blood, no cuts, no injuries. And that's when I turned my head and saw a bloody hamprint on the door jam of the sliding glass door. But the hamprint itself was positioned in a way that looked like somebody had braced themselves against the door frame to step over the threshold into the house. The entire backyard is fenced in, gates everywhere with locks and things. It would be difficult but not impossible to gain access to the backyard. But the house is fairly heavily alarmed. We had two guard dogs, two big dogs. And so it's that sense of, oh, I'm safe, the house is fine, nobody's gonna even try and get in. While my mom's a heavy sleeper, my dad is not, he'll wake up at anything. You breathe wrong, he wakes up. We were like, did somebody get into the house? And then we took a look down the hallway. It's not just the one hamprint. There's more hamprints down the hall. Among these family photos of my mom's house in the walls. Fingerprints, hamprints as like somebody was bracing themselves throughout the house. Is there somebody in the house somewhere? The door had still been locked, the alarm had been armed. And there was, besides the hamprints, no signs of anybody else in the house. It was like somebody had just disappeared. After gaining entrants to the house somehow, we talked to the alarm company and they saw no waivers in the alarm, the alarm company never lost contact with the system, it never called police, nothing. And this was a system that if you hit a window when the alarm was set, it would set off every alarm in the nearest like three houses. It never went off. It was terrifying. All we could think was, is there somebody in the house somewhere? What do we do if there is? My mom had my siblings and I in the pencil and her bedroom. My dad went to check the house, checked the basement, you know, check everywhere he checked the garage for the attic access to make sure nobody had gone in there. And there was nothing. Every time we tried to bring it up, my parents were like, "Oh, it was nothing." It was probably just, you know, "What do you guys cut your hand and didn't realize it?" But these were bright white walls that like you, you saw at the moment you looked at it. It had happened in the middle of the night. You know, maybe there was a way that the door had re-locked itself somehow and the dogs just happened to not realize it and so nobody barked and nobody was woken up or anything like that. But the dogs were usually pretty good about strangers, not being in the house. Even if somebody just knocked on the front door, they'd freak out. They'd bark and you'd have to kind of put your foot in front of them to hold them back from strangers. So the house was well protected. But obviously, nothing's impossible. Okay, this is uncomfortable, just to be crystal on this that also was not me in this story either. I know the parallels seem very parallel. Let me put a little perpendicular spin on this and say that you're crazy for even thinking that. I hurt my hand yesterday, chopping veg, or folding laundry, or maybe reloading a new cartridge in the stapler. I can't remember. Let's take a break for ads. A reporter receives a shocking tip about something that happened inside a woman's prison. He starts asking questions and what she recovers is far bigger than one disturbing event. A deeply entrenched system that people it protects and the women who risk everything to challenge it from the inside. Snap studios and KQED present, we are Jane Doe, a three-part investigative series Listen on Snap Judgment, wherever you get your podcast. Did you know that if your spouse goes missing but you don't tell anyone, that's not necessarily a crime. That surprising fact is at the heart of the brand new season of Barebrook, the award-winning true crime podcast from New Capture Public Radio. I'm your host, Jason Moon. In season three, a private matter, we investigate another New Hampshire mystery, a beloved Christmas tree farmer with dementia vanishes from his small town. His wife never reports him missing. Can he still be found? If you knew Jay as well as I do, he's private. He doesn't want everybody to know his business. That, I don't believe you. I kind of revered back to that Barebrook saying, like, what if we were to just come across something? You know, in a real challenge, he said, you know, I found him. Follow Barebrook on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. Do you have a dark curiosity? Heart Starts Pounding, Horrors, Haunting's, and Mysteries is a weekly podcast hosted by me, Kalen Moore. Each week, I'll take you on a dark journey through terrifying true urban legends, bizarre true crime cases, chilling tales of backwards horror and more. So, if you're looking to join a passionate community of the Darkly Curious, check out Heart Starts Pounding on the free Odyssey app, or wherever you get your podcasts. And remember, stay curious. Oh, hey, so I know the story seemed pretty suspicious, but I promise I'm a really good guy. I mean Terry would have never hired me if I wasn't really buttoned up. Malachi. Come on, bud. You're not helping me at all here. Anyway, many thank yous for visiting us today, multiple moochow grassy asses. Hope you had a most delightful visit to our humble retail place. May you have a wonderful day, and many blessings upon you. Schmalachi, I need this job. Hold on. Wait. How long has there been a bird in here? What the f- is that bird? Radio Rental is created by Payne Lindsay and brought to you by Tenderfoot TV. Showrunner is Meredith Stedman. Lead producers are Eric Quintana and Stephen Perez. Executive producers are Payne Lindsay and Donald Albright. This episode is hosted by Tony Cavalero. Writing by Meredith Stedman. Original score by Makeup and Vanity Set, with additional score by J. Ragsdale. Sound design makes and master by Stephen Perez and Cooper Skinner. Editing by Eric Quintana, Sean Nerny, Stephen Perez, Meredith Stedman, and Cooper Skinner. Our production manager is Jordan Foxworthy. Cover artwork by Trevor Eiler and Rob Sheridan. Radio Rental Merchandise by Byron McCoy. To shop Radio Rental Merch, visit shop.tenderfoot.tv. Special thanks to Orn Rosenbaum and the team at UTA, as well as the Nord Group and the team at Odyssey. If you have a Radio Rental story that you'd like to share, please email us at your scary story at gmail.com or contact us via the form on our website radiorentalusa.com. Follow us on Instagram at Radio Rental. On behalf of the Radio Rental store, we'd love it if you'd subscribe, rate, and review. As always, thanks for listening. [MUSIC]