Episode 2: Pleased to Meet You...

"The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist"....

In this episode your host, M, reads three terrifying true tales of people who met a demon, or even possibly the devil himself......Two teenage boys who go out seeking if the legend of Robert Johnson was true, a young college student encounters a strange young girl, and a man at a bar causes nightmares and paranoia to this day.

Story one:  "The man at the crossroads" credited to Reddit user MrRedTRex
Story two: "Venka" by user Benthic Born on jezebel.com
Story three: "Jimmy C" credited to Reddit user therestlessartist

Thank you for listening! 👻 This podcast is researched, written and produced by your host, M. If you'd like to support the podcast, you can buy me a coffee.

Submit your own stories or theories to chillersandthrillers@gmail.com.

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Transcript

0:37

Hello, and welcome to episode two of Chillers and Thrillers. Thank you for joining me. If you're new, welcome, in this podcast, I read true stories of people's encounters with the strange and the unexplained that I have found online and will credit the creator by their username when possible. I do slightly edit some stories just to make sure that they're safe for all ears. I would also love to hear from you, whether it be your theories on stories, I've read. Or to hear your own personal experiences with the strange and the unexplained. In the 1995 movie, "The Usual Suspects", one of the characters states, "The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world. He didn't exist.". The topic of the devil or demons can bring up a philosophical debate and discussion. In pop culture, the devil is usually depicted as a red skinned man with horns and a pitchfork, and different religions have different beliefs on what Satan or demons are. There are many incredibly fascinating tales about people's encounters with Demons or the devil and in tonight's episode, we explore stories of people who encountered these entities in the mundane backdrop of everyday life. Story one, the man at the crossroads. By Reddit user, Mr. Red. T-Rex. So when my best friend and I were 15 years old, we were in our own little terrible eighties, hard rock cover band. His dad's friend who happened to be a jazz guitarist, asked us if we'd ever seen this amazing must-see guitar movie called "Crossroads". We hadn't, but he played it up so much that we had to go to blockbuster that night and rent it. So "Crossroads" is essentially the true folklore story of Delta blues, guitarist, Robert Johnson, who sold his soul to the devil for incredible guitar ability. The legend goes that Johnson walked to a crossroads at midnight with his guitar and waiting until the devil came. The devil can take any form he chooses and tends to take a form that would make most sense to the person he's interacting with. In this case, he's an older, well dressed Southern gentlemen in a fancy old Ford. The devil comes and inspects Johnson's guitar and tells them that he can show him a few new tunings that will help him with his guitar playing. Johnson hands, the devil, the guitar, the devil tunes it, hands it back. And the contract is done. Johnson soul has been exchanged and by sunrise, he will suddenly be able to play with other worldly ability. Okay. So being 15 years old and for lack of much else to do that summer, my friend and I decided to give this thing a try. After a little research, we figured that any old crossroad would do and as luck would have it there are plenty of places where two roads cross just about anywhere. We each took an electric guitar and that exactly midnight strode out a few blocks away from his parents' house to see what happened. We stood there for upwards of half an hour, feeling a little foolish, but bolstered by the brave and bold thing, we were doing joking to each other. After growing board, we began to debate whether or not to call it quits. We tried and we'd failed. The devil wasn't really going to come ask us for our souls after all. That's just old folklore. Suddenly ,an unremarkable gray Toyota Camry or a Honda civic, or a Nissan Maxima slowly rolled over to us and pulled to a stop. A youngish man in his mid to late twenties with spiked hair and glasses rolled down the window and leaned across the passenger seat towards our direction. At first, we weren't sure what to believe. There were lots of reasons for a car to pull over and inspect two teenagers standing on a street corner of midnight holding electric guitars. Some more sinister than the rest." "Hey, he said." Like what you guys are doing out here. Cool guitars. That's really cool. Guys are just hanging out here with electric guitars". We looked at each other,"yeah", my friend said eventually, "just hanging out, bored, nothing to do"."You know,", he began looking directly at me, the resident guitar player in our two man band, "that's a nice guitar. You shouldn't let me take a look at it. I bet it could fix it up for you. Show you a few things that might help". I swallowed hard. Mind frozen. Unsure how I'd come to this interpass where the veil between reality and unreality had become so thin. I knew what he'd say next, before the words left his mouth."There are some new tunings I know about." We stared at the man in utter disbelief. This couldn't be happening. My mind felt like it was on fire. Thousands of thoughts fought desperately for purchase, none willing to budge. I froze. Finally, my friend, spoke up, "Nope, nope. We're good. We've got to go. Thank you". Before we left, the man told us that he lived just down the block and indicated a row of nearby houses. He told us to come by if we'd ever have a change of heart. We ran home. Incredulous to the events that had just happened, we ran back over the event with each other repeatedly to ensure that we hadn't accidentally sold our souls to the devil. I remember thinking how upset my grandmother would be if she'd known that I had went out seeking to make a deal with the devil. A few days later, composure regained via our usual irreverent juvenile senses of humour, we'd mostly gotten over the event. We decided that if this guy really did live on that block in one of those nearby houses, we should go investigate. So we did. We took a walk guitar list this time, down the group of three or four houses the man had vaguely indicated as we approach the general destination. I began to hear faint music that grew louder as we approached. Using the music as a guide, we located the house that was the source of the sound and sat down on the cool grass, separating the sidewalk from the street. Looking at my light-up Casio, watch the revelation wasn't lost on me, that it was just after midnight. As we listened closer we were surprised, although, maybe not as surprised as we should have. To hear that the music wasn't coming from a stereo system but was live, the rehearsal of the band. Impossibly as we continue listening, the rehearsing band played a near identical set list of the songs that we ourselves would practice in my friend's basement, literally less than a quarter mile away. The quality of this band's practice, however, was incredible. Especially since we'd spend some time searching and knew of no local musicians in the area, especially so incredibly close by. We deemed that location, the devil's house and tried to go back a few more times, but never heard the music again. We never saw the man in the nondescript foreign sedan again and never attempted another deal. 18 years later, we still tell the story of the night we met the devil. To incredulous friends who seem to never believe us. Story two. Venka. By benthic, born. From the Jezza bell.com 2016. Scary story contest. In the early seventies, my aunt Sarah studied education at a college in a very conservative, small town. Sarah lived on campus with her boyfriend, Jack, who eventually became my uncle. And he lived off campus in a crummy part of town. Because the college was in an industrial town. There were surrounded by really big feedlots and beef packing plants that ran 24 hours a dayand among the blue collar workforce, were many undocumented workers that were paid under the table and lived off the grid. Part of my aunt's coursework for her degree was going to the local district and trying to help undocumented families get resources for their children, things like free lunches and prenatal care. Mostly the work was very depressing, the families wanted the resources, but they didn't want to bring any attention to their undocumented status-it was just a disaster. Uncle Jack lived across the street from a crummy apartment building that housed several of these families. And often groups of children would be playing outside. One day while visiting, my aunt noticed this kid. a five or six year old little girl sitting alone on the apartments, crumbling balcony. After that whenever she'd visit during the week or day or night, the girl would be there but she was always gone on weekends. There were a lot of people who lived in those units. So on the weekends, there would be tons of kids of all ages running around. Tearing things up. You know, like kids do. They moved into the house in August, so it was blazing hot and the sun didn't set until almost 10 at night so the kids were always out running around. Any given day though that kid would be sitting there, all by herself, just staring over at them well into the evening. My aunt said at first she thought it was sad that the kid didn't have anybody really looking after her but then it started to turn to fall and the days were getting shorter and colder. One night, my uncle was walking my aunt out to her car and she remarked to him that the little girl wasn't out there. A relief because it was getting so cold But then a car turned down the street with its brights on and when the headlights hit the balcony of the apartment building, the kid was still there. My aunt said she must've been wearing dark clothes because when the headlights passed over her all they could really see was this pale little face. The headlights, washing away, all her features. She'd been there the entire time. They just hadn't seen her because it was so dark. That was the turning point for my aunt. By now she was into her internship with the district and she was doing a lot of outreach so one weekend afternoon when it was still pretty nice outside, she, and my uncle approached the family's mingling outside. She asked to put the little girl, but no one would talk to her. She said, even the kids pretend to not to be able to understand her. Winter came and the little girl could be seen on the balcony appearing like she wasn't wearing a coat. At this point, my aunt decided to stage an intervention to get the kid a jacket, and maybe even enroll her in school. So she sees the kid one morning and heads across the street and up the stairs that lead to the second level but by the time she gets there the kid has gone. My aunt didn't hear any footsteps, she didn't hear any doors closing. Nothing. My aunt figures it's the same thing from before, they're scared of an outsider. But now she's more determined than ever because this kid clearly needs some resources. That week it snowed so when the weekend came, a bunch of the little kids that were living on the street were outside stockpiling snowballs to throw at each other. My aunt had learned from the last time so this time she doesn't take my uncle, but she does take candy and a bunch of silver dollars. The older kids avoid her, like the plague, but a couple of the little ones come over and my aunt starts asking about the little girl. The kids are way more interested in the candy than the questions and most of them refuse to answer. Until one of them finally says, "Venka", the name of the child, my aunt presumes. She never heard of a name like that but gives a little kid, some candy and money anyway which eventually entices the older kids over to start talking to her. Until she asks about Venka, then the older kids completely clammed up, gathered up all the little ones and in like 30 seconds, everyone was gone. One winter evening when it was really dark my aunt saw the girl again. By now it was absolutely freezing out, there had been an ice storm that night before, and the kid was still out there. My aunt had it over fully intending to get the kid and call the cops because it was just neglect at this point. When she finally made it up the apartment buildings, icy stairs the kid was once again, gone. Which finally got my aunt freaked out, because there was no way a kid could have moved that fast on icy concrete, and she knows that none of the doors to any of the apartments were opened. Still. She pulled it all together and decided to walk the length of the balcony just to make sure the kid wasn't there. Reaching the midway point where the kid was always sitting, she saw deep in the ice, these... she didn't know what to call them. They weren't footprints because they weren't shaped like feet, not even little feet. And they weren't just on top of the ice, they were all the way through , down to the bare concrete. It was like the kid had been standing there during the ice storm the previous night and the ice had built up around her feet. Terrified my aunt tore across the balcony and down the stairs,. After making it to my uncle's house and saying what happened, he and two of his roommates head over to check it out while she stayed back . After about 10 minutes, the guys come back and told her that. Yeah, they saw the footprints. Although, none of them could come up with any kind of explanation and they tried to play it off, working out all these different scenarios that seem plausible. Like maybe there had been some empty cups or something sitting there and the kid kicked them off the ledge and that's what made the weird footprints. They convinced her that if they went over and looked in the morning, they'd probably find some cups on the ground and then they said that maybe my aunt hadn't seen the kid at all. At this point, they'd all seen the kid at least , she was always over at the house. But they pointed out that they all got so used to seeing her, that my aunt probably just saw shadow and took for granted that it was the kid. After winter finals, my uncle and his roommates decided to throw a big party before everyone headed home for Christmas. It was the first time my aunt had been back to the house since all the stuff on the balcony happened, but everything now seemed to find, and the little girl was nowhere to be seen. The party ends up being low key with only my uncle, his roommates, their girlfriends, and one roommates sister, Marisol, in attendance. The night we're on and another ice storm began outside causing the power to go out and the roommates to light a fire in their fireplace. At this point, one of the roommate brings up the weird footprints, something they'd yet to speak of out loud. Finally around the fire, my uncle and two of his roommates admitted that it was very creepy."I know it's not possible, but it looked like..", began one of the guys, "a giant hoof or a pig hoof" filled in the other roommate, leaving my uncle to remark." Yeah. Like something was standing there with cloven feet". The entire energy in the room, according to my aunt, was still uneasy, when the roommate who said it looked like a goat hoove turned and asked, "What's the girl's name? Velma?",."Venka", my aunt corrected. My aunt says, you could hear a pin drop at this point. But eventually someone changed the subject and everyone continued to drink and goof around. At some point, however, my aunt went into the kitchen and was followed by Marysol the roommate's sister. Alone in the kitchen. Marisol had a weird expression on her face and asked."Did you say the girl's name was Venka?", And my aunt nodded telling her that that's what the kids, the regular kids, across the street told her. Marisol nodded and didn't say anything for awhile, but when my aunt turned to leave, Marisol put a hand on my aunt's arm inside."It wasn't Venka, it's venga. It's slang. It means come here in Spanish" And that's when Marisol told my aunt the story. It was the first year of the district and the college tried the internship my aunt was participating in and Marisol participating in the program was stuck, literally going door to door, trying to find families with children who needed to be enrolled in school. She got a lot farther than my aunt ever got because she spoke fluent Spanish. The families didn't like her nosing around, but they would at least speak to her. Marisol says she went to an apartment building, not across the street from my uncle's rental but close, while there she saw these kids. Including a little girl dressed in dark clothes who appeared to be by herself. So Marisol talked to the more friendly kids and their families, convincing them that they can qualify for services and going to school was a really good thing to do. Getting up to go, she asked to put the little girl she saw outside. Upon mentioning her, an older woman, probably a grandmother or great-grandmother, crossed yourself and shook her head. She told Marisol that, that wasn't a little girl. It was a bad spirit and Marisol should forget she ever saw her. At the time she figured that maybe the little girl was undocumented or possibly stolen or sold to another family. But then when she tried to really think back to the girls features. Nothing came to mind. It was a blank, just a general impression of a little girl in dark clothes. Over the weeks and months Marisol started to eavesdrop and more and more, she would hear about this Venga girl. Apparently she was called that because she would whisper and try to lead people off into the woods. Marisol wasn't clear on what supposedly happened to anyone who dare to follow her and according to the conversations she overheard all the children knew better than to go with her. She then swore that she would catch glimpses of this kid in different places around town. By this point in the story, my aunt's very freaked out. Getting away from Marisol as quickly as she could. She informed my uncle that he needed to take her back to the dorm. Heading away from the apartment. And driving through wooded area, my uncle, either because of the ice storm or because he had a few drinks, ended up hitting the curb hard enough that it blew out a tire. It being in the middle of the night and freezing, he left my aunt in the car and got out alone to change the tire by the light of a flare. The only light source he had. In the car, my aunt was terrified. The red light of the flare was bouncing off the ice. And flashing everywhere. And then. In the woods about 20 feet away. Is the girl. The flare was bright enough for my aunt to get a good look at her face. Except there wasn't one. The face was perfectly pale and featureless. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. It was just completely smooth. Even over the sound of the heater and the radio. My aunt says she could hear the girl whispering.. And she could see her crooking a finger towards her. This was the first time my aunt saw the girl's hands. They're bleeding with long cracked fingernails. And her feet, Weren't feet. They were hooves. At this point, my uncle climbed back into the car and my aunt pointing him to the girl finds that she's gone. The next morning, as soon as the sun was up, they packed up and drove all the way home for the holidays. After that my aunt refused to go back to the house and they never saw the girl again. Story three. Jimmy C. Bye Reddit user the restless artist. This has haunted me for a long time. I was about 19 or 20 at the time. And I was living in Savannah, Georgia. I drank a lot. I had a very good fake ID. I worked a terrible job as a grunt labor. The kind where you go to those temp, labor agencies.

I show up at 4: 21:20

00 AM, work until 5:00 PM and drink myself to sleep after only taking home, maybe $60 for the day. I was supposed to go into work this particular morning, but I decided to skip. I call my girlfriend and tell her I'm going to the beach. I had already started drinking. She comes over, we hop in my big ugly van, pack up some rods and head to the beach. I decided to have a drink across from the beach at a little bar. And this is where the story gets interesting. Shortly after ordering my drink, I get a really strange feeling. And become hyper aware of my surroundings. The door is open. And I see this guy walk in out of my peripheral vision. There's a seat between me and my girlfriend, and this guy could have sat anywhere else. Yet, he chose to sit right between her and I. Then he starts doing this thing with his fingers. The bar top was reflective and he takes his fingers like two little legs and starts just walking them or skating with them on the top of the counter. This isn't something out of the ordinary, but I took notice because when I was in school, I did that all the time. I pretended I had rollerblades on my fingers and that I was skating around my desk. I hated school and was always distracting myself. So I became mesmerized by his actions for some reason. That's when he looks at me and in this kind of dramatic or Nordic accent, and he says,"I noticed you're a man who pays attention to detail. I'm also a man who pays attention to detail". Now before I continue, I have to describe this guy. He had this short spiky hair that was bleached at the tips, kind of like a late nineties style. He had really expensive clothes on like a nice Prada, leather jacket. Nice designer jeans. Really nice boots. I always remember this because I thought to myself, "some weird homeless, crazy guy couldn't have afforded those clothes". Anyway. The other thing that stuck out was his eyes. They were piercing gray. It reminded me sort of like a Husky's eyes, but his pupils just stayed in this disturbing pinpoint size they were just extremely small, which caused his look to be kind of terrifying. His teeth were normal, right? But not at the same time. I don't know how to explain it. They were sharper than they should be, as if they were filed slightly. His hands were normal, but his fingernails were slightly long and pointed as if he deliberately did this. He kept licking his teeth to as if you were salivating. The thing about this guy is that you look at him and everything seems normal. But off at the same time. So you're questioning if you're crazy for thinking this. And then he starts talking about the relationship between me and my girlfriend, but really strangely. He was talking about how beautiful she is and how I should pay more attention to her. In all, honestly, I was, you know, kind of a jerk to her. Shortly after he began talking like this, I had this almost knowing feeling, come over me. Like I knew this guy was not human. I look at my girlfriend and say, you need to leave. She just kind of looks at me like she knows to, and without a word of protest, she gets up quietly and leaves. Later I learned that she went next door to get a coffee. And that's when this guy literally says to me with the utmost confidence."You were supposed to go fishing today", he points at the beach across the street "if you had. I would have drowned you in the ocean". And I kid you not. He hissed. Again, for some reason, this overwhelming calm had just come over me. And I ask."Who are you?" He answers back with this crazy guttural language. It sounded Arabic or Hebrew or something., for some reason, without skipping a beat and I have no idea why I was so calm to this day, I say, "Say it in a way I can understand". And he says, "You can call me Jimmy C, I jumped off the San Francisco bridge years ago And we've been watching you". From there on out. He never referred to himself as me or I, but only we. The conversation became very strange after this. He was saying things like." We see you taking a bath. We wish we could feel the warmth of the water and the comfort of the stream". He kept buying me drinks too, specifically whiskey sours. It was as if he had an endless supply of money. He smoked Marlboro ultra light cigarettes. And after, I don't know how long, because I kind of lost sense of time at this point. I told them I was going to leave. I walked next door. I get my girlfriend and she's stone silent. We start driving home and don't say a word. Then I just ask., "Do you know what that was?" And she says., "That was a demon". This girl had parents that were scientists. She was very analytical, completely normal adjusts. And that was the first thing she said out of her mouth. The last thing this Jimmy C guy said to me before I left, is this."Look at my car".. I look outside and I see one of those newer volkswagen beetles. It was white." What does the license plate say?" I look at the plate and it literally says fierce. He looks me dead in the eyes and says, "The next time you see me. I'll be driving a black Mercedes and the license plate will say utopia". That night. I was still calm. I don't know why. I felt like that guy and the movie office space after his hypnotherapist dies right in front of him. And he's really Zen. But my girlfriend started having terrible nightmares and it was just this guy's head, just staring at her in her dreams. Weeks went by and that's when the encounter started affecting me. I found myself becoming paranoid about a black Mercedes. Every black car I saw, I checked if it was a Mercedes, if it was, I immediately looked at the license plate. I started doing it when I was watching TV or movies as well. I couldn't stop. Now I'm going to fast forward a bit. About 10 years go by. I'm 29. And in silence when I'm alone, when I'm drinking, I often think about this encounter. I still look at black Mercedes every time they pass by. But I'm not so much anxious about it anymore as curious.. This is probably the most single, frustrating and scary thing that has ever happened to me. I want to imagine it's just a normal, crazy guy, but unless you saw it and felt it and heard him talk about all these little details of what you were supposed to do that day when only you knew, you just can't imagine the impact or that. It's been 10 years. And my only soul is really is that my ex-girlfriend was there to corroborate the communication. Even though I'm living 10,000 miles away in Southeast Asia. I can't stop looking for that car. I can't stop thinking about Jimmy C's twisted face and if the fear I feel at night, is him, or them ,watching me. And that's all we have for today's episode. As always i would love to hear your theories and ideas and your own stories as well Also since this is a very small podcast written and produced by myself I would really appreciate it if you would like subscribe and leave me a review in your preferred podcast app But most importantly please keep listening and share with your paranormally inclined friends and family as well Thank you again And we'll see you next time