Latest / Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories / Unsettling Thanksgiving: Mysterious Encounters and Chilling Discoveries

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Unsettling Thanksgiving: Mysterious Encounters and Chilling Discoveries · Shallow Nights: Scary Bedtime Stories

0:07
Spending Thanksgiving at my cousin Matt's farm had always
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been something of a family tradition.
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It was an expansive, stunning property, complete with a big
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barn, a mirror like pond, and a tree line that seemed infinite.
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For a city guy like me, spending a few days in the countryside
0:24
was always refreshing. This year was no different.
0:27
The house buzzed with laughter, clinking plates, and the pitter
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patter of kids racing across the hardwood floor.
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Matt's five year old son, Ben was the life of the gathering,
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darting around with a plastic dinosaur in hand and a smile
0:41
that could light up the whole room.
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The adults were gathered around the dining table, savoring
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Turkey, mashed potatoes, and all the usual Thanksgiving staples.
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Outside, the kids were playing tag, their shrieks of laughter
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echoing through the crisp November air.
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Everything felt perfect until it didn't.
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It started with a simple question.
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Where's Ben? Matt's wife, Lillian, was the
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first to notice. She'd gone outside to call the
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kids in for pie and realized Ben wasn't with the group.
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At first, no one panicked. Kids wander.
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It's what they do. He's probably in the barn, Matt
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said, getting up from the table. He loves it in there.
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A few of us decided to help look.
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We split up, calling out Ben's name as we checked the barn, the
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house, and the surrounding yard. Ben, where are you, buddy?
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The barn was empty, save for the horses calmly chewing hay.
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The house was quiet, with no sign of tiny sneakers hiding
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under the furniture. That's when the unease started
1:42
to creep in. Did anyone see him go toward the
1:45
woods? I asked, looking at the tree
1:47
line. Matt's face tensed.
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He knows not to go past the fence.
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Kids don't always listen. I managed to speak, keeping my
1:56
tone as calm as possible. Let's check anyway.
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The group spread out along the edge of the property, calling
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Ben's name louder now. My firefighter training kicked
2:05
in. I scanned the ground for
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footprints, checked bushes for signs of movement, and tried to
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think like a 5 year old. Where would I go if I were Ben?
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About 15 minutes into the search, Lillian's voice rang
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out, sharp and panicked. I see him.
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We all turn toward her. She was standing near the far
2:24
end of the property, pointing toward the trees.
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I felt relieved until I saw what she was pointing at.
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Ben was there, standing near the tree line, but he wasn't alone.
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A man stood beside him, tall and dressed in dark, worn clothes.
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His hand rested on Ben's shoulder as if they were old
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friends. Ben.
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Matt yelled, breaking into a Sprint.
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The man jerked his head up, startled.
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Without hesitation, he released Ben and bolted into the woods.
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I didn't think I just ran after him.
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The underbrush was thick, and the man was fast.
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I caught glimpses of his figure weaving through the trees, but
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he always stayed just out of reach.
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My heart hammered as I pushed forward.
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Then he was gone. The forest was silent except for
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my heavy breathing and the distant calls of my family.
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I scanned the area, but there was no sign of him.
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Frustrated and shaken, I made my way back to the edge of the
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woods. When I returned, Lillian was
3:19
holding Ben tightly, tears streaming down her face.
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Matt was on the phone with the police, his voice tight with
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anger. What happened?
3:27
I asked, kneeling down to Ben's level.
3:30
He looked up at me, wide eyed and innocent.
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The man said he had a surprise for me.
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He wanted to show me something in the woods.
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Eerie coldness passed through me.
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Did he hurt you? I asked gently.
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Ben shook his head. No, he was nice, but when you
3:48
all started yelling, he got scared.
3:51
The police arrived about half an hour later.
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They combed the woods with flashlights and dogs, but they
3:56
didn't find anything. No tracks, no clues, nothing.
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The officer who took our statements seemed genuinely
4:03
concerned. Do you know him?
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He asked Matt. No, Matt replied.
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I've never seen him before. He didn't seem like a local,
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Lillian added. But who knows?
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He could have been watching us for days.
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The police said it might have been a drifter or someone
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passing through, but that explanation didn't sit well with
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me. Whoever that man was, he knew
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exactly where Ben would be. He didn't stumble onto the
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property by accident. He'd planned this The next
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morning. Matt and I were stuck with this
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sense of deep anger, so we decided to search the property
4:37
ourselves. We combed every inch of the
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woods, starting near the tree line where we'd found Ben and
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going deeper. That's when we noticed something
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odd. Truck tire tracks pressed into
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the dirt near a secluded clearing.
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They weren't fresh, but they were distinct enough to stand
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out against the otherwise undisturbed ground.
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What's that? I asked, pointing toward the
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tracks. Matt knelt down, running his
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hand along the grooves. Looks like someone's been
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parking here, he said for a while.
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The tire marks overlapped in several places, like the truck
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had been parked in the same spot multiple times.
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Nearby, we found an empty soda can and a cigarette butt, both
5:18
seemingly left behind recently. This guy wasn't just passing
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through, Matt said. He's been watching us.
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This man had been on the property for days, maybe even
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longer, waiting for the right moment.
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I couldn't help but think about all the times Ben had played
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outside, running freely through the fields, completely unaware
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someone was lurking so close. We collected what little
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evidence we could and called the police again.
5:44
They returned to inspect the site, taking photos of the tire
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tracks and the discarded items. One of the officers looked
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especially concerned as he examined the scene.
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He's been camping out here, the officer said.
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This wasn't random. He was watching your family.
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That confirmation only deepened the pit in my stomach.
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The officers promised to increase patrols in the area and
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assured us they'd be on the lookout for any suspicious
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activity. But their reassurances couldn't
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erase the fear that lingered in all of us.
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Thanksgiving will never feel the same to me.
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What started as a day of gratitude turned into one of the
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scariest experiences of my life. Every time I see Ben running
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around with that carefree smile, I think about how close we came
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to losing him. The image of that man at the
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tree line holding Ben's shoulder will haunt me forever, and the
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knowledge that he'd been sitting in the woods waiting for his
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moment chills me to this day. Thanksgiving had always been my
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favorite holiday. It wasn't just the food, it was
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the tradition of everyone gathering around the table,
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laughing over old stories and creating new ones.
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This year I was hosting at my home.
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It was the first time in years I had both sides of the family
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under one roof, and I wanted everything to be perfect.
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The smell of Turkey roasting in the oven filled the house,
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mixing with the faint cinnamon scent of pumpkin pie cooling on
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the counter. My husband, Dave, was busy
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slicing vegetables and our two kids were playing board games in
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the living room. The vibe was perfect, exactly
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how Thanksgiving should feel. Just as we sat down for dinner,
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a loud, abrupt knock echoed through the room, silencing the
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laughter and conversation at the table.
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We all exchanged puzzled looks. No one was expecting anyone
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else. I'll get it, I said, pushing
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back my chair. Opening the door, I found myself
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face to face with a man I didn't recognize.
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He was in his late 40s with a worn jacket.
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His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he looked tired, or
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maybe uneasy. Sorry to bother you.
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He began, his voice flat. My car broke down up the road.
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Could I use your phone to call for help?
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The way he spoke didn't feel right to me.
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It wasn't the words themselves, but the way he said them.
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Too rehearsed, like he told the same story before.
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I'm sorry. I replied, keeping my voice
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polite but firm. We don't let strangers in.
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There's a gas station about a mile back that might be able to
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help you. He stared at me for a moment.
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I don't need to come in, just let me use your phone.
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I shook my head, apologizing again before shutting the door,
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locking it. I leaned against it for a
8:30
moment, letting out of breath. Dave came up behind me, raising
8:33
an eyebrow. Who was that?
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Some guy I said said his car broke down.
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I told him to try the gas station.
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We returned to the table and I did my best to forget about the
8:44
odd encounter. The evening went on and soon we
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were gathered in the living room, sipping coffee and digging
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into slices of pie. The kids had moved to the family
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room to watch a movie, and the adults were reminiscing about
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old holidays. Then I saw movement near the
9:01
back window. At first I assumed it was
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nothing more than my reflection or an odd shadow, but when I
9:08
turned to look directly, I froze.
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There he was, the same man from earlier, standing in the dark,
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staring inside. My breath hitched as I tried not
9:17
to panic. Dave.
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I whispered, nudging his arm. What?
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I gestured toward the window and his expression shifted
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immediately. He stood, careful not to make
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any sudden moves, and walked over to pull the curtain closed.
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What the hell is he doing here? Dave asked.
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I don't know, I whispered back. We need to call the police.
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Dave grabbed his phone and stepped into the corner of the
9:40
room, speaking quietly to the dispatcher.
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I tried to act normal, but my nerves must have shown because
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my sister-in-law, Marie, furrowed her brow.
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What's going on? She asked.
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Nothing, just someone's outside. I admitted.
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That caught everyone's attention.
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My brother Greg stood up, his expression serious.
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Someone's outside. Who?
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It's the guy from earlier. I said, motioning toward the
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window. He's been standing there,
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watching us. Greg looked toward the window.
10:08
What the hell? I'll go scare him off, no.
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I hissed, grabbing his arm. We don't know if he's armed.
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A thick silence followed my words.
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Greg looked at Dave, who was still on the phone.
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Do we even have anything to defend ourselves with?
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He asked. Dave shook his head.
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It's Thanksgiving, Greg, nobody thought to bring a weapon.
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Marie's face paled. So what do we do?
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Just sit here, yes? I said firmly.
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The dispatcher told Dave to stay inside and keep the doors
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locked. The police are on their way.
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Greg's shoulders tensed, and for a moment I thought he might
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ignore me and head out anyway, but then we all heard the sound
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of footsteps moving along the side of the house.
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Everyone froze. Is he trying to get in?
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Marie whispered, probably checking the doors.
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Dave said quietly, his voice strained.
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Stay calm, they said. The officers would be here in
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less than 10 minutes. The weight of the tension in the
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room felt crushing. Every sound outside seemed to
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tighten the grip on my chest. When the sound of rattling door
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knobs reached the living room, I felt Marie's hand tighten around
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mine. He's trying the back door, Greg
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said, his voice filled with tension.
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He moved toward the kitchen window to peek outside, but
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quickly ducked back when he saw the man moving toward the front
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porch. OK, let's stay together.
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I said, trying to keep everyone focused.
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He's trying to scare us. Just stay inside.
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Another knock came, heavier this time, like he was pounding the
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door with the butt of a handgun. The kids who had been playing
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upstairs started to come down, clearly sensing something was
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wrong. What's happening?
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My niece asked. Marie stepped in quickly.
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Stay upstairs, sweetie. We're just handling something
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grown up right now, OK? The pounding grew louder and a
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shiver crept down my back as the man's shadow stretched across
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the frosted glass of the door. Dave motioned for everyone to
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move into the dining room, further from the entry points.
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Police are almost here. He said quietly, his voice firm.
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Stay calm. The next few minutes stretched
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on endlessly. The man outside continued pacing
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around the house, occasionally knocking or testing a door.
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The quiet made every little noise feel deafening as we
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waited, praying the police would arrive before he decided to do
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more than knock. It felt like hours before we saw
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the flashing red and blue lights outside.
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The footsteps were treated into the darkness just as the police
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arrived. Dave unlocked the door, and two
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officers approached cautiously. They found the man near the edge
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of our property, crouched by the fence, as if waiting for another
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opportunity. One officer stayed with us,
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while the other escorted him to the squad car.
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Inside, the officer who stayed back asked us a series of
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questions. Did we know him?
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Had he threatened us directly? No, I said, shaking my head.
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But he was watching us through the window, and he tried the
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doors. The officer nodded, jotting
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notes on his pad. We'll file a report and issue a
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trespassing warning. If he comes back, call us
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immediately. That night, I barely slept.
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Every sound from the house made me sit bolt upright.
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The next morning, we found scuffed boot prints on the back
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porch and cigarette butts near the side of the house.
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The realization that he had been lurking there for hours made me
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shudder. Though the police assured us he
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likely wouldn't return, the fear stayed.
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I spent the next few days watching the street through the
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curtains. Every time I heard a car drive
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by, my chest tightened, expecting it to be him.
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Thanksgiving had always been a holiday of joy and warmth, but
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that year it left me with a cold sense of vulnerability.
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Even now, I can't look at our back window without imagining
13:57
those eyes staring in. This incident taught me a hard
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lesson about trust and safety. I no longer answer the door for
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strangers, no matter how harmless they seem.
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It's a small adjustment, but one that gives me Peace of Mind.
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And after that night, I'll take all the peace I can get.
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Thanksgiving has always been a big deal in my family.
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My parents house, the one I grew up in, is the designated
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gathering spot. It's nothing fancy, just a
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modest two-story home with a big dining room that can barely fit
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everyone. Every year, relatives pile in
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from all over, bringing casseroles, pies and enough food
14:40
to feed a small army. This takes place back in 2017.
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The house was a whirlwind of delicious smells, Turkey, pie
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and spice cider. Everywhere I turned, someone was
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laughing, talking or pouring another glass of wine.
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This was what family holidays were all about, the kind of
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chaos that reminded me why I loved Thanksgiving.
15:03
This time, there was someone new at the table.
15:06
Hey everyone, my cousin Jeff said as he walked in, balancing
15:10
a pie in one hand and patting the back of a guy I'd never seen
15:13
before with the other. This is Kyle.
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I invited him to join us. Kyle was tall and wiry, probably
15:20
in his late 20s. His eyes darted around the room
15:23
like he was sizing it up. His smile seemed genuine enough,
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though, and he carried a bottle of wine as a peace offering.
15:31
Nice to meet you. I said, shaking his hand.
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His grip was firm but quick, like he wanted to move on to the
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next person. The rest of the family greeted
15:41
him warmly. Thanksgiving is about sharing,
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after all. My mom pulled him into the
15:46
kitchen to show him where to put the wine, and soon he was
15:49
blending in, laughing at jokes and piling his plate with food
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like he'd been coming to our dinners for years.
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At first, I didn't think much of Kyle.
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He seemed polite, even charming in a way, but as the night went
16:02
on, his questions started to stand out.
16:05
So, how long have you lived here?
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He asked my mom during dinner, looking at the staircase leading
16:11
to the second floor. Oh, decades.
16:14
She said with a smile. This old house has been through
16:17
a lot with us, must have a lot of memories.
16:20
Kyle said, his tone friendly, but his eyes stayed a little too
16:23
long on the family photos lining the walls.
16:26
Later, while I was refilling my drink, he came up to me in the
16:29
kitchen. You guys have a nice place, he
16:32
said, looking toward the back door.
16:34
That yard must be great for summer barbecues.
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It is, I replied. We spend a lot of time out
16:40
there. Do you always keep the garage
16:43
door open like that? He asked casually.
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My expression shifted, confusion written all over it.
16:50
It's usually closed, but with everyone coming in and out
16:53
today, I guess someone left it open by dessert.
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It was getting harder to ignore how Kyle was paying a little too
17:01
much attention to the house. He'd already asked about the
17:03
security cameras out front and whether they worked.
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When he mentioned the jewelry box on the dresser in the guest
17:09
room, something he could only have noticed by wandering
17:11
upstairs, I felt my gut twist. Jeff.
17:15
I said quietly, pulling my cousin aside.
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How do you know this guy? Jeff looked sheepish.
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We met online. He's been having a rough time
17:23
lately, so I figured I'd invite him along.
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You know, show him some family warmth.
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You just met him? I asked, incredulous.
17:32
Yeah, but he's cool. Jeff said, brushing it off.
17:36
I wasn't so sure. That night, after everyone had
17:40
left, I did a quick walk through of the house, checking the doors
17:43
and windows. Everything seemed fine, but I
17:45
still felt uneasy. I chalked it up to overthinking
17:49
and went to bed. The next morning, my mom woke me
17:52
up with a knock on my door. Someone's been in the house, She
17:56
said, her voice trembling. I threw on some clothes and
18:00
rushed downstairs. The back door was slightly ajar,
18:03
and muddy footprints trailed across the kitchen floor.
18:06
What's missing? I asked, already dreading the
18:09
answer. My jewelry box, my mom said, and
18:13
the tablet from the living room. I think your dad's watch is gone
18:16
too. I immediately thought of Kyle.
18:19
Jeff came over as soon as we called him, looking just as
18:22
stunned as the rest of us. Kyle wouldn't do that, he said,
18:26
shaking his head. He's a good guy.
18:30
Are you kidding me? I snapped.
18:32
He asked about the cameras, the garage, even the guest room
18:34
upstairs. Who does that?
18:37
Jeff didn't have an answer. We reported the break into the
18:41
police and they came to dust for fingerprints and take
18:44
statements. Do you know who might have done
18:47
this? The officer asked.
18:50
We have a strong suspicion, I said, explaining about Kyle.
18:54
Jeff gave them the limited information.
18:56
He had an e-mail address, a phone number, and a vague idea
18:59
of where Kyle might live. A few days later, we got a call
19:03
from the police. They tracked Kyle down, but he
19:06
denied everything. He claimed he'd left the house
19:09
after dinner and didn't know anything about the stolen items.
19:13
We've had other reports about him.
19:15
The officer said he's been linked to similar incidents, but
19:18
nothing we can prove yet. Hearing that only made me feel
19:22
worse. Kyle had used our Thanksgiving
19:25
dinner as an opportunity to scout the house, just like he'd
19:28
probably done to other families. Jeff was devastated.
19:33
I can't believe I brought him here, he said.
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I thought I was helping someone. I'm grateful nothing worse
19:40
happened and no one was hurt, but that incident changed how I
19:44
see things. Thanksgiving is meant to bring
19:46
people together, yet that year it showed us how important it is
19:51
to protect what matters most. We learned a hard lesson about
19:55
boundaries. Not everyone who smiles at you
19:57
has good intentions, and trust should never come without
20:01
caution. Kyle may have gotten away that
20:03
time, but he didn't take what mattered most.
20:06
Our family's strength and determination to protect each
20:09
other. My wife Diane came from a big
20:18
close knit family and they knew how to throw a celebration.
20:21
Her parents home was a spacious suburban spot with a big
20:24
backyard and an old weathered shed they used for storage.
20:28
Every holiday felt like a slice of Americana.
20:31
Kids running around and adults chatting over wine.
20:34
We'd finished dinner and the mood was warm and relaxed.
20:38
I was sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, listening to
20:41
Diane talk about work with her sister.
20:43
Her dad was flipping through football games on TV, and the
20:46
kids were diving into dessert. It was the kind of evening that
20:49
made you forget all the craziness of the world outside.
20:53
But then Diane's mom, who'd gone to grab something from the
20:57
kitchen, called out in a panicked voice.
20:59
There's smoke in the backyard. I shot up immediately.
21:03
Thick Gray smoke was curling up into the night sky, illuminated
21:07
by the glow of flames. The shed, just 20 feet from the
21:12
house, was on fire. Call 911.
21:15
I shouted as I bolted for the back door.
21:18
Diane's brother-in-law, Bennett, was right behind me.
21:21
We grabbed the garden hose and fire extinguisher on the way
21:23
out, knowing we had to keep the flames from spreading to the
21:27
house. The fire was raging by the time
21:29
we got close. The heat was intense and the air
21:32
reeked of burning wood and plastic.
21:35
We started dousing the flames with the hose, but it was a
21:37
losing battle. I directed the extinguisher
21:40
toward the base of the fire, hoping to slow it down until the
21:43
fire department arrived. As we worked, I noticed
21:47
something odd. Near the edge of the shed, just
21:50
outside the reach of the flames, was a gasoline can.
21:54
It didn't belong there. My father-in-law was meticulous
21:57
about his tools and supplies, and he'd never leave something
22:00
like that out in the open. I nudged Bennett and pointed it
22:03
out. You think?
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He started, but his voice trailed off as we both came to
22:08
the same conclusion. Someone had started this fire.
22:13
By the time the firefighters arrived, we'd managed to keep
22:16
the flames from spreading, but the shed was a total loss.
22:20
They extinguished the last of the fire while we huddled
22:22
together on the patio, trying to understand the situation.
22:26
The kids were inside, with Diane and her mom thankfully spared
22:30
from the chaos outside, a firefighter approached us once
22:34
things were under control. We found evidence of an
22:37
accelerant. He said.
22:38
Looks like gasoline was used to start the fire.
22:41
My father in law's face darkened.
22:44
That shed's been locked for years.
22:46
Why would anyone target it? The firefighter shrugged.
22:50
Could be kids messing around or someone with a grudge.
22:53
Hard to say, but it didn't feel random to me.
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Whoever did this wanted the fire to spread, to destroy more than
23:00
just an old shed. After the firefighters left, the
23:04
police arrived to take statements.
23:06
While we were explaining what had happened, one of the
23:09
neighbors came over. Mr. Wilkes was an older guy,
23:12
retired, with a front porch that gave him a perfect view of the
23:16
neighborhood. He always seemed to know what
23:18
was going on. I saw someone hanging around
23:22
earlier, he said. A man wearing a hoodie.
23:25
He was walking up and down the street looking at the houses.
23:28
What time was this? The officer asked.
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Right before dark, Wilkes replied.
23:34
Thought it was odd, but I didn't think much of it at the time.
23:39
The description wasn't much to go on, but it added to the
23:42
unease that was settling over all of us.
23:45
Later that night, after the police left, we started cleaning
23:48
up the mess. The shed was a charred husk and
23:51
the backyard was littered with ash and debris.
23:54
Diane's dad whispered nervously under his breath, clearly
23:57
unsettled. Why target us?
23:59
He finally said. We don't have enemies.
24:02
We don't even know anyone who'd do something like this.
24:05
I didn't have an answer. The gasoline can suggested
24:09
intent, but the randomness of it all was unsettling.
24:13
If someone was targeting us, why not go after the house?
24:16
Why the shed? The next day, Diane and I stayed
24:19
to help with the cleanup. By afternoon, we'd cleared most
24:22
of the debris. The police hadn't found any
24:25
solid leads, and the case was left open.
24:27
Diane's parents were trying to move on, but the tension in the
24:30
house was palpable. That evening, as we were packing
24:34
up to leave, Mr. Wilkins stopped by again, his expression more
24:37
serious than before. I've been thinking, he said,
24:42
lowering his voice. This wasn't some accident or a
24:45
random act. Whoever did this wanted to send
24:47
a message. They weren't trying to burn the
24:49
place down, they were trying to scare whoever was inside.
24:53
It made too much sense. The fire wasn't a chaotic act of
24:56
vandalism. It was targeted.
24:59
Whoever had said it had no intention of remaining hidden.
25:01
They wanted us to know someone had been there.
25:05
This wasn't about property damage.
25:07
It was about power letting us know we weren't as safe as we
25:10
thought. Over the next few weeks, Diane's
25:13
parents installed security cameras and motion sensor lights
25:17
around the property. Life slowly returned to normal.
25:20
But we'll never forget that fire.
25:22
To this day, we don't know who started the fire or why, but
25:26
someone had a plan that night and for reasons we'll never
25:29
understand, they chose our family.
25:34
If these Thanksgiving horrors left you gripping your seat,
25:37
don't forget to like this video and subscribe for more spine
25:40
chilling stories. What would you do if you faced
25:45
one of these terrifying situations?
25:48
Share your thoughts in the comments.
25:50
I'd love to hear your take. Pass this video along to friends
25:53
and family to remind them that staying vigilant is key, even
25:57
during the holidays. Thanks for watching and I'll see
26:00
you in the next nightmare.