Let's Not Meet~ Reddit Horror Stories

"Look in my truck"

In 2010 I was living in Quincy, MA with my husband, new baby, and a roommate. It was a Saturday so I was taking a much-needed break from the baby and went to run errands and have some alone time. My first stop was to the local Radio Shack to get a phone accessory.

After my purchase, I walked out of Radio Shack deep in thought about my to-do list and enjoying being sans baby when a voice broke through my reverie.

"Excuse me, Miss, can you help me please?"

I blinked in confusion and looked over at the man who addressed me. My first impression was "Italian Grandpa." Everything about him was beige - from his khaki slacks, brown cardigan and tweed flat cap, to his sandy-colored mustache. Even the car he stood next to, a boat-sized Town car, was a faded champagne.

I hesitated. As a big believer in "The Golden Rule" I generally try to help people out whenever I can, but this time, something about this situation gave me pause. I stood there in the middle of the parking lot.

"What do you need?" I asked.

He smiled warmly, "There's something wrong with my car." He held up a key fob, "When I click my car key my car door locks won't lock. It's very strange. Can you come over and take a look?" He gestured to his car and clicked the fob in demonstration.

Still hesitating, I answered, "I don't know anything about cars, but we're right here at Radio Shack, maybe they can help you."

"No, no, no," he said, "I think we can figure this out together. Come here and look."

Again, I repeated that I don't think I could help him. I could see that he was getting agitated yet he continued to smile. He walked over the the back of his car and opened the trunk.

"But here's the strangest thing," he said, "The doors won't lock, but the trunk will." He started waving at me eagerly, "Come here and look at the trunk!"

I began to feel very confused. Part of me wanted to go over to help, yet greater instincts prevailed. I began to walk in the opposite direction to my car, repeating over and over again to the man, "I can't help you, go into Radio Shack for help."

As I walked away, I saw him throw up his arms in disgust, slam down the trunk, get in his car and drive away. I drove onto my next errand, feeling very unsettled, but as I tried to process the encounter I began to have doubts about my reaction. Maybe he was just an old man who needed help. Did I do the right thing?

When I returned home, I shared my encounter with my husband and roommate. I expected that they'd laugh and assure me I was being overly paranoid. Instead, they looked at me with wide eyes. "Tealthriver," my husband said, "That guy was trying to kidnap you."