Mike the Coffeehouse Guy
"I knew a guy named Mike who ran a coffeehouse. It was a pretty hip place, kinda beatnik, live music, poetry readings, open mic nights. But something about him was just a little bit off. He stared at you too long when making eye contact, girls all hated him and were completely creeped out by him. He had long hair, a beard, and drove a van. Just kinda generally creepy.
"His favorite jokes were of the 'Whatcha doing later, Mike?' 'Cutting up hookers and shoving them in dumpsters' vein of humor.
"After about a year, he sold the coffeehouse to a friend, and I ended up managing it. Business picked up pretty quick after word got out that Mike wasn't around anymore. The place was really starting to turn a profit, everything was going great. Then he started hanging out every now and then, and being extra creepy. Leering at teenage girls, and just kinda being generally inappropriate. I asked him not to come back, and it got kinda ugly.
"Fast forward about four years, and I'm sitting on my couch, watching TV. The local news comes on, and his face pops up on screen. He had been arrested for raping and torturing three separate women. He was found behind a shopping center with a woman shackled in the back of his van, and he had been driving around all night tazering and raping her. He's currently serving three consecutive life sentences."
"My former roommate (28 year old DJ) had a best friend (male, late 50's) who went by the name 'Lobo'. I thought it odd that his best friend was so much older, but never really thought about why or how he got that name. Unfortunately, I found out when all kinds of creepy stuff started happening around the house. I'm talking real-life creepy here. Shadows and floating orb-like things would appear and disappear; uneasy feelings when walking by a particular bedroom door; my five year-old suddenly started having night-terrors; friends would stop talking and get creeped out whenever Lobo walked in the house, whether we actually saw him or not. Roommate would tell me things like he and Lobo would go out into the woods at night and burn things, like idols, to the one they worshipped. When he asked me one night if I'd ever read this certain book, I said, 'No'. So he got it for me to read when I had time. It was a black Satanic Bible. Those two could do weird things to people. I had a bad burn once from a popcorn popper on my arm. He asked about it, touched it, and within hours it was healed up. No scar. He finally freaked me the fuck out so bad I had to leave. I didn't tell him where I moved to. Four weeks after I'd moved in, I came home from work to find them sitting in my driveway. 'Just visiting,' they said."
Possibly Van Helsing?
"Not a single person has believed this story, but I swear on my life that it is true.
"A buddy and I were playing a large game of chess and enjoying some brew last fall at Balmer's hostel in Interlaken, Switzerland. About half way through our game, a man dressed in what looked like exquisitely hand-made and heavy black everything (boots, pants, shirt, trench coat, hat) with greasy, wavy, shoulder-length, jet black hair and beard sat down in a chair nearby, facing the board.
"Once in a while he would make a sort of 'hmm... interesting, I am amused' sound under his breath after a move. We attempted introducing ourselves to him several times, but he did not look away from the board and did not say a clearly intelligible word. Before we finished the game, he stood up and quickly left.
"That night, we were in the hostel's bar, which was underground and had a unique vibe. Almost like it had been a dungeon prior, but now had 2-for-1 drink specials of the local brew for several hours every night.
"It was around midnight when we both went out into the courtyard (near where the chess board was) and sat down at a table under an awning. It was raining.
"From the shadows on the far side of the courtyard, the same man walks confidently up to us and sits down. He was completely dry and had an indescribable, but not unpleasant scent about him. He begins regaling his tale in a low tone that was barely audible above the sound of rain falling on the cedar roof above us.
"I do have to paraphrase, as I had a nice buzz going, but remember the gist of his story. He was from a small country, not far from Switzerland, that no longer exists. He and his family had survived for 'millennia' there before being driven out. By Vampires.
"He said he came from a line of infamous slayers who held back the vampire onslaught, but just barely. In the mountains of his home country, his family did battle against the vampires, intentionally provoking their ire to hold their focus, sparing the world at large.
"He went on to say that after the latest battle, their fortress had been over-run. He was in the field, keeping an eye on one vampire in particular that they believed to be top-ranking. After the defenses fell, the vampire he had been watching began to flee. Our new friend had been following him for two months.
"At this point, my buddy and I were moments away from calling his bluff. I started to say, 'Really...' in that condescending, 'you are full of shit' way that people do, when he hushed me and turned his head, obviously in attempt to hear something. We heard only the rain. He then grabbed my arm. His hand was ice cold. He looked into my very soul and said, 'Get up. Get inside. Now.' That moment is still burned into my mind as the single most horrifying of my life. Words cannot describe the intensity and sincerity behind his words and expression. Before I could even think another thought, he stood, pulled a shotgun from beneath his trench coat and ran silently around the building to the locker area, which has only one entrance.
"I sat there frozen, mouth agape, while my friend stood and followed him. But he was already gone."
"A creepy guy who works at my local Walmart was sitting and talking to me one day (I worked there too, at the time). He felt the need to confide in me that at one point in his youth he went to the house of his crush, crawled in her open window, and hid under her bed before she came home for the night. He stayed there until she came home, changed, and had fallen asleep. He just slipped right back out the window and into the night.
"My box spring has been on the floor ever since."