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This happened when I was 15 years old. Back then, I was always looking for ways to make extra money. I wasn't old enough to get many on-the-books jobs, so I would occasionally babysit for families around my town. Most of the time, it was
Three terrifying true stories from real jobs, including a creepy babysitting experience with a mysterious man and unexplained events at work.
Key Takeaways
- Always verify job details thoroughly, especially when working alone or in unfamiliar environments.
- Unexpected dangers can arise from people or situations not disclosed upfront.
- Trust your instincts; if something feels off, prioritize your safety and leave.
- Even seemingly simple jobs can have hidden risks.
- Communication with trusted contacts (like family) is crucial when working in potentially risky situations.
Summary
- The narrator recounts a babysitting job at age 15 found on Craigslist, involving a woman who worked overnight shifts and her supposedly sleeping daughter, Rose.
- Upon arrival, the narrator discovers a man with dementia wandering the house, who was not mentioned in the job ad or phone call.
- The house shows signs that no child currently lives there, raising suspicion and fear for the narrator's safety.
- The man appears suddenly and unnervingly multiple times, leading the narrator to escape through a window and flee the house.
- The woman texts the narrator after leaving, indicating she knew the narrator had left despite no visible surveillance.
- Additional stories involve unsettling experiences in other job settings, including strange noises, unexplained blood stains, and hostile behavior from a person named Elaine.
- One story describes working at an old farm house with eerie occurrences and a hostile elderly woman who attacked caregivers.
- The narrator reflects on the danger and emotional toll of these jobs, emphasizing the importance of caution and awareness.
- Each story highlights the unpredictability and potential risks of taking on odd jobs, especially for young or inexperienced workers.
- The video combines personal anecdotes with suspenseful storytelling to engage viewers interested in true scary stories.
Chapters
- 00:00Introduction and Babysitting Job Setup
- 01:57Arrival at the House and First Encounter
- 03:33Explanation About the Brother and Growing Unease
- 05:07Signs the Child May Not Live There and Exploration
- 06:44Man Appears Again and Decision to Escape
- 08:17Escape and Aftermath
- 09:58Additional Scary Job Stories Begin
- 11:39Hostile Encounters and Reflections
Full Transcript — Download SRT & Markdown
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people my parents knew or neighbors who needed someone to watch their kids for a few hours. One afternoon during summer break, I was browsing Craigslist and found an ad from a woman looking for a babysitter. The post explained that she
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worked overnight shifts and needed someone to stay at her house with her six-year-old daughter, Rose. According to the ad, Rose would already be asleep before I arrived and would remain asleep most of the night. The pay was surprisingly good for what sounded like
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an easy job. I emailed the woman and got a response about an hour later. She asked for my phone number and called me that evening, and she sounded completely normal. She spoke calmly and answered all my questions. She explained that she
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had to leave for work before I would arrive, so she would hide a key outside the house. She told me exactly where to find it. Since I was only 15, my mom wanted to talk to her before agreeing to
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anything. The woman spent several minutes speaking to my mom on the phone. Whatever they discussed seemed to satisfy my mom because afterward she told me it sounded like a great idea.
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The babysitting job was scheduled for the following night at around 9:30 p.m. When the time came, my mom drove me to the address. The house was located in a quiet neighborhood about 20 minutes away from where we lived. It sat near the end
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of a dead-end street and was surrounded by large trees. As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed every light inside the house was on. My mom waited while I walked to the front porch and checked the hiding spot the woman had described.
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The key was exactly where she said it would be. I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. After setting my backpack down, I turned around and waved goodbye to my mom as she backed out of the driveway. Then I was alone. The
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house was dead quiet. I figured Rose was already asleep, just like her mom said.
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Inside was a pretty standard house at first glance. There were family photos on the walls and a few toys sat near the living room couch. I saw a pink backpack leaning against a chair. There were kids' drawings attached to the fridge with
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magnets. Everything seemed ordinary. Still, I wanted to know the layout of the house, so I walked through the first floor. The kitchen connected to a hallway leading towards several bedrooms. As I stepped into that hallway, I glanced through an open
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doorway on my right. What I was not expecting to see was a man standing inside the room.
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He was facing the window looking out it. But that fact quickly made the sight more unsettling because it was pitch black outside. There was nothing to look at. I stared for several seconds before finally speaking. The second I made a
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sound, he turned around. The first thing I noticed was a smile. The second thing I noticed was that one of his front teeth was missing. I asked who he was and his smile never changed. He didn't answer. I backed out of the doorway and
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pulled out my phone and called the woman. She answered after a few rings and I explained that there was a man in one of the bedrooms. She sounded confused for a second before acting like she suddenly remembered. That part of it really still
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sticks with me. Then she explained that it was her brother who had dementia and sometimes wandered around at night. She told me not to worry because he's harmless. That explanation didn't make me feel any better. If her brother was
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living there, he should have been mentioned in the ad or on our phone call. Before hanging up, she told me to help myself to anything in the fridge and I could sleep in the guest room at the end of the hallway. After the call
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ended, I stood there for another minute just contemplating my situation. Eventually, I decided to check out the rest of the hallway. The room where the man had been standing remained open, but he was no longer visible from the
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doorway. That made me nervous. I continued farther down the hall. There were four doors besides the guest room.
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I tried the first one, locked. I tried the second one, locked. The third one, locked. The fourth one opened about three inches before stopping. I looked through the crack.
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The room appeared empty. I couldn't see much because the lights were off. I pushed the door a little farther. It was just an empty room. Feeling stupid for being scared, I continued toward the guest room. As I passed the fridge
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again, I noticed something strange. The drawings attached to it looked old. Really old. The paper had yellowed around the edges. One of the drawings had dust sitting on top of the magnet holding it in place. The backpack I'd
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seen earlier looked faded, too. I started wondering when the last time a child had actually been in that house was. The thought made me uncomfortable.
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I realized that despite being there for almost half an hour, I still hadn't seen a single sign that Rose currently lived there. I hadn't heard her and I hadn't seen her room. I hadn't even seen any recent toys. I reached the guest room at
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the end of the hallway. It was a small room. I set my backpack on the floor.
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Then I noticed something. There was no lock on the door. As I turned around to look back into the hallway, there was the man again standing at the opposite end of the hallway. He was looking at me again. Then his smile came back on his
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face. I hadn't heard him approach. It was like he just teleported there. I honestly don't know how long he had been standing there. The missing tooth was visible even from where I stood. For several seconds, we stared at each other
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down, me looking at him like he was some confused animal and not even an actual person. Then I quickly stepped inside the room and shut the door. I sat on the edge of the bed trying to calm myself
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down. I knew well of dementia from a young age as my great-grandmother passed away with dementia. This allowed me to justify this man's actions, but deep down I knew something felt wrong. I called my mom three times until she
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finally picked up. I told her of the situation I was in. From the unannounced brother with dementia to the fact that I couldn't even find the child in the house. For a few moments, she was silent. Then she told me she was coming
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to get me immediately. Hearing that made me feel relieved and scared at the same time. Scared because even my mom thought something was up here. She hung up after she said she'd be there as fast as possible. A few minutes passed before I
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heard footsteps coming down the hallway toward my room. I sat completely still. The footsteps got closer until they stopped directly outside the door.
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Everything went silent and I stared at the doorknob. I checked my phone and the woman still hadn't called back to see if everything was okay. I decided to call her myself, but after three attempts, she never picked up. While I
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was waiting, the bedroom door opened a few inches. I couldn't see who was standing outside.
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The opening wasn't wide enough. I sat there staring at it. The door remained cracked open, but whoever was on the other side didn't enter. I knew it had to be the brother.
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It was those final tense seconds where I decided I was getting out of there and I got off the bed, moved to the window, and forced it open. I climbed out and dropped into the backyard. Then I didn't
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stop running until I reached the street. I crossed to the other side and kept going. I ended up nearly a block away before finally slowing down. I pulled out my phone to call my mom again.
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Before I could dial, a text message appeared. It was from the woman's number. The message simply asked where I was going. I immediately looked back toward the house. I didn't see anyone outside or at the windows. I didn't see
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any cameras when I entered the house. Yet somehow, she knew I had left. That was w
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down the street. About 10 minutes later, she pulled up. I jumped inside and locked the door and we left immediately.
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Neither of us ever contacted the woman again. I never figured out who the man really was. I never figured out if Rose actually existed. I never figured out why all the bedroom doors were locked.
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There's a slight possibility that it was all real and that I was just extremely paranoid and dipped out, but the chances of that are slim to none. Something weird was going on in that house.
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When I was 15 or 16, I got a summer job cleaning units in a lowincome housing condo complex. I got the job through the property manager who I used to babysit for. And for a high school student, it
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paid surprisingly well. The job was simple. Whenever a tenant moved out, we would go in and clean the unit to prepare it for the next family. Many of the units had been abandoned in a hurry.
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Belongings were often left behind, and some places looked as if people had simply gotten up and left. One day, I worked alongside a university student I'll call Jen. She was about 20 or 21 and naturally took the lead while I
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followed her direction. One day, we were assigned a unit on the end of a row. The layout becomes important, so I'll explain it briefly. When you entered through the front door, you walked into the living room. On the right side were
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two sets of stairs, one leading up to the second floor and one behind a door leading down to the basement. The basement stairs turned twice, meaning you couldn't see into the basement from the main floor. The basement itself was
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just one large unfinished concrete room with a washer, dryer, furnace, and a single hanging light bulb. There were no closets, side rooms, al coes, or places to hide. When we entered the unit, it was obvious the previous tenants had
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left in a hurry. The kitchen was filthy and most of their belongings were still there. We spent the first part of the afternoon packing everything into garbage bags and sorting items that could be donated. Once that was finished, we started cleaning. Part of
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the kitchen cleanup involved pulling the oven and fridge away from the walls and cleaning them thoroughly. We also removed the drawer underneath the oven.
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When it came time to put it back, we discovered the rails were damaged and it wouldn't slide in properly. For reasons that made sense at the time, Jen and I stood on opposite sides and kicked it until it wedged itself back underneath
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the oven. When we tried pulling it out again, it wouldn't budge. We both immediately regretted doing that, but we figured the property manager could deal with it later. After that, we split up.
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Jen headed upstairs to clean the bedrooms while I stayed downstairs removing the glass light fixtures so I could wash them. I was standing on a ladder in the living room when I heard Jen call my name from upstairs. I called
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back to no response. I climbed down and went upstairs. When I found Jen, she was cleaning a bedroom with headphones on. I asked what she wanted. She looked confused. "What did you call me?" I said. She laughed and shook her head.
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"No." I shrugged it off and went back downstairs. One thing that always bothered me about that unit was the attic access above the staircase. It was just a square opening in the ceiling leading into a dark crawl space. The
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cover was missing, so every time I walked underneath it, I found myself looking up into a square of complete darkness. A few minutes later, I heard my name again. This time, when I called back, Jen immediately yelled from
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upstairs, saying, "I didn't call you. You're hearing things." At the time, I agreed with her. It was strange, but I wasn't frightened. Not yet. A little while later, I was standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the light fixtures. I turned around to grab a
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fresh sponge and nearly tripped. The oven drawer was sitting halfway out on the floor. Immediately, I thought it was odd. Jen and I had practically kicked the thing into place. We'd also confirmed afterward that it was completely stuck. Still, I just kicked
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it back in. It took several hard kicks before it wedged itself under the oven again. To make sure, I grabbed the handle and pulled. Nothing. It was stuck. Satisfied, I went back to cleaning. A few minutes later, I turned
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around again and almost tripped. The drawer was back out. I hadn't heard anything. Nobody else was downstairs.
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This time, I felt genuinely unsettled. The drawer hadn't simply slid out. It had been jammed into place. I left it where it was and decided it was the property manager's problem. When I checked on Jen, she was still upstairs
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cleaning, so I returned to my own work. Eventually, I started reinstalling the clean light fixtures. Since it was a bright summer afternoon, I turned the lights off while I worked. I was standing on a small ladder trying to
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secure one of the fixtures when the light suddenly switched on. The sudden brightness startled me, and I fell backward on the ladder. A second later, the fixture slipped from my hands and came crashing down. It narrowly missed hitting me in the head. For a few
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seconds, I just sat there on the floor. I could see the light switch from where I had fallen. Nobody was near it. At the same time, I could clearly hear Jen moving around upstairs. Only a few seconds had passed. There was no
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possible way she could have run downstairs, turned on the light, and gotten back upstairs. The switch had somehow turned on by itself. At least that's what it looked like. I still wasn't thinking about ghosts or anything supernatural. I was just uncomfortable.
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At that point, I decided I was done working alone and went upstairs to find Jen. When I told her what happened, she looked uneasy. Then she told me something I hadn't expected. A few minutes earlier, she thought she'd heard
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someone call her name, too. It didn't sound like me. We were both officially creeped out. The only task left was sweeping the basement. Neither of us wanted to go down there alone, so we went together. The basement was exactly
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as I described earlier, one large open concrete room with nowhere to hide. While Jen swept, I sat on the dryer and talked with her. A few minutes later, we finished and headed back upstairs. We were relieved to be almost done. We
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started gathering our supplies in the living room. I was standing maybe 2 ft from the open basement door when it happened. From below us came the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps.
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Both of us froze. The footsteps were loud enough that neither of us questioned what we were hearing. Then came something far worse. The footsteps suddenly broke into a run. They were charging up the stairs fast and loud, coming directly toward us. The footsteps
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got louder. I looked at Jen and her face had gone completely white. Neither of us said a word. Running on pure instinct, I grabbed the basement door and slammed it shut as hard as I could. Then Jen and I
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ran. We flew out the front door and across the lawn. At one point, I heard Jen yell behind me. The key. I yelled back, "Leave it." Neither of us stopped until we were on the other side of the
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complex. I barely remember what happened afterward. Eventually, we returned to the property manager and told her someone had been inside the unit. We left our cleaning supplies behind and never went back. As far as I know, she contacted the police before anyone
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entered the condo. We never told her what we had actually experienced. What could we say? That something invisible had spent the entire afternoon calling our names, moving objects around, turning lights on, and finally charging up the basement stairs. It
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sounded ridiculous. Even now, I'm not someone who believes every strange story is paranormal. I've had other experiences in my life that could probably be explained one way or another. This one is different, though.
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Maybe we imagined hearing our names. Maybe there was some mechanical explanation for the oven drawer. Maybe the light switch malfunctioned. But that basement was empty. There was nowhere for anybody to hide. And those footsteps weren't distant or ambiguous. They
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sounded exactly like someone running up a staircase directly toward us. Even now, more than 20 years later, hearing someone run up a set of stairs sends me right back to that summer afternoon. I'm still a skeptic, but I never have been
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able to explain what happened in that condo. When I was younger, I was a hustler and a go-getter, always looking for the next way to make a quick buck. and my mom knew an older couple from a church group
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who needed help around their property for a couple of weeks. Their names were Richard and Elaine, and they were both in their late 60s, old, but not super old. They lived in a pretty rural area about 40 minutes away from my house.
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They were in one of those older farm houses with a long gravel driveway and woods behind the property. The deal was simple, but I would stay there for a little over a week, help Richard with yard work, cleaning out the garage,
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moving furniture, painting a fence, things like that, and they would pay me at the end. My mom trusted them because she knew Richard from years back. And Elaine seemed really sweet the first time I met her. She was quiet, but she
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smiled a lot and kept asking if I was hungry. The house itself was fine. It was what you would expect an elderly couple to live in in a quiet area.
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Upstairs at the end of the hall was the room I'd be sleeping. On my first day there, Richard showed me around the property and then gave me a verbal list of things we'd work on, and Elaine made dinner. I noticed early on that Elaine
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didn't talk much, but she always had a neutral to half smile on her face. She asked my name three different times, to which Richard just said she forgets things sometimes. I figured he meant normal old person forgetfulness, so I
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didn't think much of it. That night, I went upstairs around 11:00 and tried to sleep. Sometime around probably 3:00 in the morning, I woke up and heard footsteps in the hallway. Someone was walking back and forth outside my room.
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I knew it. The floorboards creaked every few seconds. Maybe Richard was going to the bathroom, but the footsteps didn't go anywhere. They just passed my door, went down the hall, turned around, and came back. I laid there in the dark
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listening to it for maybe 10 minutes and it got increasingly uncomfortable until they seemed to stop right outside the door. I stared at the big dark gap under the door and I felt like I could see the outline of two feet. After a while, the
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footsteps moved away again, which confirmed that what I was seeing was in fact two outlines of feet. The next morning, I mentioned it to Richard while we were outside working. He didn't look surprised. He just said Elaine sometimes
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wandered at night because she had bad dreams and got confused and that I shouldn't worry about it. When I asked if I should lock my door at night, he kind of laughed and said the guest room didn't have a lock because the house was
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old, so I let it go. But the second night was worse. I woke up again to the same footstep sounds, except this time they were faster. I could hear Elaine muttering to herself in the hallway. I couldn't make out most of it, but I
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heard my name once, which gave me goosebumps. Her shadow passed under my door three or four times. I was starting to hate that large gap under the door.
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The door knob twisted, stopped, and the door opened about an inch. It stayed open to crack for just a moment, and I heard a whispering voice through the crack, but I couldn't make out what was said. Then the door shut again. After
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that, I had trouble sleeping like I think anyone would in my shoes. In the morning, I told Richard exactly what happened. Once again, he explained it away. His explanation was she probably thought the room was empty and that she
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had been doing things like that more lately. He said it was embarrassing for her and asked me not to bring it up around Elaine. During the day, she seemed mostly normal, doing things like making lunch, folding towels, and
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watering plants, which made the whole thing harder to process. But every now and then, I would catch her staring at me from across the room with this flat, suspicious look. It was like she didn't recognize me, but also didn't like that
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I was there. On the fourth day, Richard and I were cleaning out a shed behind the house. I noticed a dented metal walker shoved behind some boxes and next to it was a broken picture frame with dried brown stains on the glass. This is
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kind of important for later. Later on that same day, when I went inside to use the bathroom, I noticed a long scratch on the hallway wall about chest height, like something had been dragged across it. There were also small holes in one
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of the doors downstairs, like someone had hit it with something. These all seemed like signs of struggle.
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That night, I put my suitcase in front of my bedroom door. It wasn't heavy enough to stop anyone, but I figured it would at least make noise if the door opened.
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Around 2:30, I woke up to the sound of the suitcase scraping across the floor.
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I looked and saw my bedroom door was halfway open. Elaine was standing in the doorway in her night gown. I saw her mouth hung open as she was heavily mouth breathing. I said her name, trying not to sound scared, even though the sight
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was horrifying. When she stepped into the room, that was when I saw she was holding a kitchen knife at her side. She walked closer to the bed and started whispering something, which I quickly was able to understand as, "You don't
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belong here." She said it like five times. "You don't belong here. You don't belong here." She came all the way to the side of the bed and stood over me with the knife hanging in her hand. I yelled for Richard as loud as I could.
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Elaine flinched like the sound scared her. Then she turned and marched out of the room. Even the stiff way she marched out of the room was terrifying. She slammed the door and marched away.
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Richard came upstairs maybe 30 seconds later, acting annoyed, like I had woken him up for no reason. I told him she had been in my room with a knife. He kept saying she wouldn't hurt anyone and that she wasn't herself at night. This was
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officially when him downplaying her behavior began to piss me off. I said I wanted to go home and he replied, "It was 3:00 in the morning and my mom was probably asleep." He said, "We'll talk about it in the morning." I should have
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called my mom right there, but I didn't want to make the situation bigger. I pushed the dresser in front of the door after he left and stayed awake until sunrise. The next morning, Elaine acted like nothing happened. She made pancakes
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and was smiling again, giving normal grandmother vibes. Richard pulled me aside and apologized, but it didn't feel like a real apology. He said Ela's memory had been getting worse, which sounded like an understatement.
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When I asked him if she had ever attacked anyone before, he took a pause, and he said she had gotten upset with a caregiver once, but that it was handled.
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That was the first time I realized he had definitely been hiding things from me. I told him a second time that I wanted to leave. He said he understood, but my mom was at work until late and he
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would drive me home the next morning after we finished one last job and they paid me. That afternoon, while Richard was outside on the phone, I went looking for my backpack because I wanted to pack early. For some reason, I found it in
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the laundry room. On my backpack, there was a blood stain clear as day right on the outer pocket. I called Richard into the room and showed him the blood. He grabbed the backpack, looking a little more angry than I'd seen yet, and he
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told me he accidentally cut himself earlier, and moved my backpack in there while he cleaned up the blood. He finished it off with a stop worrying. I told him I was calling my mom, and he once again tried to get me to calm down.
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I went upstairs, packed my bag, and tried calling anyway. The call failed twice, so I texted her to come get me, but it didn't send. Richard also refused to give me the Wi-Fi password. That was when I really started to feel trapped. I
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had to tank through until she came the next morning. The final night, I didn't even get in bed. I sat fully dressed on the top of the blanket with my shoes on and my bag next to me. I moved the
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dresser in front of the door again, but around midnight, Richard came upstairs and told me to move it because it was dangerous in case of a fire. I refused at first and for the first time, I heard him yell. He told me to move the
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dresser. now. I complied and moved it just enough so the door could open. After he left, I waited in the dark with my phone in hand. Around 2:00 in the morning, I heard a lane downstairs. She was yelling this time. It sounded like
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she was yelling at Richard. Then I heard glass break. Richard said her name, trying to calm her down, and then there was a loud thud, followed by him shouting in pain. It sounded like she just attacked him. I got up and cracked
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my door open. The hallway was dark, but I could see light coming from the staircase from downstairs. Footsteps started coming up the stairs fast. I shut my door and pushed the dresser back as hard as I could. A few seconds later,
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Elaine hit the door from the other side. The doororknob rattled violently. She started saying again and again that I didn't belong here. She sounded furious.
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The door shook as she hit it again and again. I heard something metal strike the wood and a piece of the door splintered inward. My sights landed on the window, my only exit, and I decided I was jumping out. I could hear Richard
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downstairs groaning and calling for her. Whatever she did to him, she was about to do to me, maybe worse. I got the window up and kicked out the screen.
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There was a small roof over the porch below the window, so I climbed out onto it with my backpack. Elaine was still banging on the door when I jumped out. I dropped from the porch roof into the bushes below. I ran down the gravel
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driveway without looking back. I could hear the front door open behind me and Elaine was yelling from the porch. She was holding what I could only guess was a fireplace poker in one hand. I kept running until I reached the road where I
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finally was able to call 911 with service. The police and an ambulance showed up maybe 15 minutes later.
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Richard had a cut on his head and a broken wrist from trying to stop her.
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Elaine was taken away by paramedics. The police got a hold of my mom and she arrived as soon as she could. Richard later told my mom that Elaine had been getting worse for months, but he didn't want to put her in a facility because he
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felt guilty. He thought he could manage it himself. He also admitted she attacked two caregivers before me. If he wasn't an old man, my mom likely would have slapped him in the face after she heard all that. I still think about how
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many chances I had to leave and how many times I ignored the obvious signs because I didn't want to seem dramatic.
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Honestly, I feel like we as humans try to hold out our hope that things are still normal for as long as possible.
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That we really don't see the actual danger we can be in until it's almost too late.
Topics:true scary storiescreepy babysittingreal job horrorMr. Nightmaretrue paranormaldementia wanderingjob safetycreepy encounterstrue crimescary experiences
