Scariest Reddit Stories

Posted by Redditor u/blue_tidal:

Five years ago, I lived downtown in a major US city. I was a night person, so I often felt bored after my roommate, who did not like nights, went to sleep. I used to walk long distances and think during that time.

I walked alone at night for four years, never feeling afraid. I used to joke with my roommate that even the city's drug dealers were polite. All of that changed in just a few minutes one evening.

It was Wednesday, between one and two in the morning. I walked near a police-patrolled park far from my apartment. The night was quiet, even for a weeknight, with little traffic and almost no people walking. The park was empty, as it usually is.

I turned down a short side street to return to my apartment when I first saw him. At the street's far end, on my side, a man was silhouetted, dancing. He performed a strange dance, like a waltz, but he finished each 'box' with an odd forward step. He seemed to be dance-walking straight toward me.

Assuming he was drunk, I stepped near the road to let him use most of the sidewalk to pass. The closer he came, I saw how gracefully he moved. He was very tall and thin, wearing an old suit. He danced nearer still until I saw his face. His eyes were wide and wild, his head tilted back, looking at the sky. His mouth made a painfully wide cartoon smile. I decided to cross the street before he danced any closer.

I looked away from him to cross the empty street. As I reached the other side, I glanced back... and stopped instantly. He had stopped dancing and stood with one foot in the street, perfectly parallel to me. He faced me but still looked skyward. His smile remained wide.

This made me completely unnerved. I started walking again, keeping my eyes on the man. He did not move.

I put about half a block between us. I turned away from him for a moment. I watched the sidewalk before me. The street and sidewalk ahead were empty. Still unnerved, I looked back where he stood. He was gone. I felt relief for a second. Then, I saw him. He crossed the street. He was now slightly crouched down. I could not be sure due to distance and shadows, but I knew he faced me. I looked away for less than 10 seconds. He moved fast.

I was so shocked I stood there staring at him. Then he started moving toward me again. He took huge, exaggerated tip-toed steps, like a cartoon character.He moved like a cartoon character sneaking up on someone. He moved very, very quickly.He was sneaking up on someone. He moved very quickly.

I did not run or pull out my pepper spray or phone. I just stood there, totally frozen as the smiling man crept toward me.

Then he stopped again, a car length away. He kept smiling, still looking at the sky.

When I found my voice, I blurted out the first thing. I meant to ask, "What do you want?!" I said it in an angry, commanding tone. A whimper came out instead: "What the fuu…?"

Humans can hear fear, even if they cannot smell it. I heard it in my own voice, which made me more afraid. He did not react. He just stood there, smiling.

After what felt like forever, he turned around, very slowly. He started dance-walking away. Just like that. I did not want to look back, so I watched him go until he was almost out of sight. Then I saw something. He stopped moving and dancing. I watched in horror as his distant shape grew bigger. He was coming back. This time, he was running.

I ran too.

I ran off the side road and back onto a lit road with little traffic. Looking back, he vanished. On the rest of the drive home, I kept glancing over my shoulder. I waited for his stupid smile, but he was never there.

I stayed in that city six months after that night. I never went for another walk. His face always haunted me. He did not look drunk or high. He looked completely insane. That is very scary.

Redditor u/ posted this.myha:

I am 22. This happened a year and a half ago. I just moved into my first apartment and was moving in. The door locks itself when closed. So, I went to the complex entrance for my mail while talking on the phone with my boyfriend.

I got back to my apartment. I sat on the bed, opening mail while using the phone. I dropped the phone on the floor; it landed under the bed. I had to lie down and reach for it. I saw something. Someone was under my bed...

My eyes widened. I choked on the urge to scream. The person under the bed lay still, back to me, head to chest, so I could not see his face. He did not see me. I tried to stay rational while thoughts rushed through me. I picked up the phone and said, "Sorry, I dropped my phone. I will take a shower and call you back."

I walked into the bathroom near my bed. I quietly locked the door, turned on the shower, jumped out my first-floor apartment window, and called the police. They told me to wait nearby, but to move to the opposite street and watch for anyone exiting the apartment complex door. It was summer, and it was still light out. I hid behind a car across the street, watching my open bathroom window and the entry door.

I called my boyfriend. He arrived just before the police. I gave them my keys; they went inside. Moments later, two cops came out. They held a thin, tired-looking man. His eyes looked crazy, but he did not try to escape. The policeman who stood beside me and comforted me while the police searched my house (I was shaking and crying) told me the man stood outside my bathroom door with a kitchen knife waiting for me to emerge.

This man crept into my entry door while I retrieved my mail and hid under the bed. The man trying to hurt me turned out to be homeless and went to a mental hospital. My boyfriend moved in the very next day.

Posted on Reddit:

I started babysitting at 13 to earn cash for embarrassing things, like Fall Out Boy CDs. I mostly worked for my dad's lawyer clients, getting referrals by word of mouth.

I babysat a family with a nine-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy. The parents seemed fine, though a bit grumpy. They gave me a full schedule and 'jokingly' threatened to hit any boy who showed up after they left. They felt unfair accusing me of knowing a boy since I looked like a big baby with frizzy hair then.

Almost right after the parents left, the little girl sang in a creepy, high-pitched voice, "We're all al-o-o-o-one now!"

Righty-o. CueThe Shining ssoundtrack.

"I know!" the little boy said, "Let's play r**e!"

Looking back, I see the kid probably heard the word on TV, knew it was shocking, and said it just for a reaction. I totally believed it then, sputtering wide-eyed and quickly changing the subject.

These kids were awful for the next hour. I stopped them from watching South Park on TV because their parents did not look like they would let their seven and nine-year-olds watch that show. As soon as I said no, the girl said easily, "Oh, that's fine, we'll just play Playstation in the family room. Feel free to watch it out here."

I knew exactly where that was going. I told them they could watch any TV show in the living room while I cooked dinner. The parents left instructions for sandwiches. I could do that. Before I got the bread, I heard a huge crash. The little girl broke a glass. Tutting and angry, I cleaned it up while these two strange kids watched with wide eyes.

I threw the broken glass in the trash and went back to the sandwiches. I eat vegetarian, so while the kids had chicken, I made a simple salad for myself. Just as I finished, the little boy screamed something that sounded like pain, even from my high-alert state as a teenage babysitter. Still, I ran to the living room couch to check on him.

"My ankle!" he howled, flopping back onto the couch.

While I tried to figure out how he hurt his ankle, the little girl left the room. I noticed this peripherally but did not focus on it; I focused on the little boy pretending to hurt. He kept repeating, "I went to stand but it hurt too much, I don't know," until his eyes suddenly looked behind me, and I saw the little girl standing there with a disturbing smile.

He healed miraculously. Praise the Lord.

These kids seem weird. They want too much attention and likely need more parental guidance. I was thirteen. That $60 was only four hours away.

I put the sandwiches on the dining table, got soda, and came back. After pouring soda for both of them, I saw they hadn't eaten anything yet. I asked them what they were waiting for.

They smiled. "For you to take a bite of yours."

I was glad I felt a hunch to open the top of my sandwich bread. I saw broken glass. Broken glass that I had put in the trash.

I stared in horror at the two little kids staring at me with menacing twin grins. I lost control and yelled, "Are you serious?! At the very least, you could've really hurt my mouth! What is wrong with you two?!"

Instead of crying, apologizing, or acting ashamed or confused, these two little kids started laughing. It was not like kids laugh. It was too low; it was not silly or free. It was low and threatening. I will never forget that sound. My first thought was, "These kids are too young to laugh like that."

I called my 17-year-old sister. I cried about what happened. She arrived and took over. Chills hit us leaving the house after the parents arrived. I never watched those two kids again. I cannot accept the planning behind sprinkling broken glass in my sandwich. Their cold response to my upset was totally heartless. These two kids were unlike any other I had met.

Posted on Reddit:

I live near a camp I attended as a child. When I was seven, a Russian counselor worked there. The camp has a large staff exchange program with many countries. Counselors claimed he was incredibly fast. At staff-only campfires, he would catch, skin, and eat live rabbits.

He used a crazy sleeper hold. This move choked you out for a few seconds. You woke up fine a minute later. I saw him use it on a counselor; the guy was out for about ten seconds. They banned him from doing it after that.

Kids became curious and asked him to do the move. He did it secretly, but he made his holds harder. This kept the kid unconscious for longer periods.

A camper went missing. He was not in his bunk despite sleeping in his cabin that night. Staff searched the camp, keeping everyone on the soccer field for two hours. Counselors began searching the water. They found his body under the sailing dock, completely out cold. He was alive but unconscious. He had strangulation marks on his neck. Everyone knew who it was. They arrested the Russian man and sent him back to Russia. They never even sent an exchange counselor. No one knew who he was.

Posted by Redditor u/flaxenflare:

Before this story, I want some background. My husband and I lived in a small, two-story house. It had two main entrances: one at the front and another on the side, leading to the laundry room. When we were too busy or it was too late to walk the dog, we attached his collar to a long line on a pipe on the corner of the house. This let him use the bathroom. We used to do this from the laundry room door. We noticed the step from the door to the ground was hurting his hips. So, we started letting him out the front door instead, since the porch is closer to the ground.

Around midnight, I was home alone with my dog. I let him out one last time before bed. I hooked him to his line, closed the door, and locked it. Then, I went to the kitchen to put away dishes. He used the bathroom fast, but he liked walking the front and side of the house for a few minutes before coming back in. While I put away dishes, I heard a scratch on the door—my dog signals he wants to come in—so I went to let him back.

Because I watch too many scary movies, I always check the door's peephole before opening the door. As a habit, I look to check if my dog is at the door. Instead, I see a man staring hard at the door handle.

I froze, my hand on the door handle. I do not know how long passed, but then I heard another scratch, louder than the first. This woke me from my shock, so I grabbed my cell phone and called my husband. He seemed confused; I probably did not explain well, but he said he was going home.

I realized my dog was still outside with this person. I went back to the front door, trying to make little noise, to check if the stranger remained. Just like before, he stood there, head down, looking at the doorknob. I crept to the laundry room and slowly opened the door as quietly as possible. I could not see my dog anywhere, and the side of my house had gravel; I knew I could not step outside without noise.

With my heart pounding, I went to the front door to watch the stranger and get a better look. I thought about calling the police, but I did not feel they would take me seriously since the man was just standing in front of my house. I tried taking a picture with my cell phone, but the camera only took pictures of the peephole, not what was behind the glass.

Suddenly, the man looked up straight at me. I swear he knew I was there. He glared, then opened his mouth to show a taunting, malicious grin. He held that look for a few seconds. Then, he turned and started walking down the street.

I stayed put, almost expecting him to rush back and pound on the door. Luckily, my husband returned after a few minutes. In short, he convinced me to call the police, and we went to find our dog. This man had cut the end of the line connected to the pipe, and our dog thought this was a good time to explore my neighbor's backyard, where we found him. Three years passed. We moved to a new house (for unrelated reasons), and the police found no suspects. Since then, we take our dog on very long walks before sunset.

Posted by Redditor u/cocomt26:

About six years ago, I was in college. Around 5:30 p.m., after class, I said goodbye to my friend as we left separately. A guy in a hoodie blocked my path. The moment he was there, he hugged me and grabbed my head close to his chest. He slapped my face and asked, "Why are you still not home?" I was stunned; I did not know the guy. Initially, I thought he mistook me for someone else. I also thought he was drunk. Then, he started pulling me to walk with him.

I yelled for my friend for help. She was still nearby. She grabbed my arm and started tug-of-war with the guy. Many people were there. The guy shouted, "Don't bother us, this is my wife!" My friend shouted, "Please help us, this is my classmate!" No one dared intervene. We made a scene outside the school during rush hour; everyone watched. We felt helpless. I saw some familiar faces from school, but they did not move. They seemed as shocked as I was. I froze, unable to break free from the guy. Another man appeared and shouted, "I'll shoot you!" He tried to help the first guy by grabbing me from my friend.

A schoolmate tried to help, but the other guy punched him. Then, the guy punched me, hitting my face, head, and neck. They also punched my friend, who stayed brave and wouldn't let go. We kept shouting for help. A street vendor came to assist and yelled, "She's a student, we should help!" As she approached, the other guy punched her too. The street vendor came with her dog. After the guy hit her, her dog bit him. The dog also bit the guy who hugged me the whole time. They both ran off as the dog chased them.

The experience was traumatic. I changed my daily clothes for months afterward so the two men would not recognize me if we met.

I love dogs. Being saved by a dog was heartwarming. For a while in college, I still see the street vendor and the dog sometimes.

Posted by Redditor u/redwantsblue8:

I use the app "Sleep As Android" to improve sleep. One feature records nighttime noises—snoring, sleep talk, ruffles, coughing, etc. I have used the app since October 1, 2013. I have never recorded anything other than sounds I made, like changing positions or coughing (though others have told me I talk in my sleep).

On December 30 at 2:04 a.m., I caught something very strange.

I slept in my bed that night; my three-year-old was there, scared of the dark. Only the two of us occupied the house. The next night, I deleted my recordings and found this specific file. Clicks start getting louder throughout the recording. Then, I hear me ask, "What are you doing?" followed by a deep voice saying, "Nothing."

The clicks got very loud then. At the end of the recording, the same voice said, "That's them" (I think?). This makes me creeped out. I don't recall being awake that night. The only logical answer is that I answered my own sleeping talk, but the voice does not sound like me or anything I could copy. It certainly does not sound like a voice my preschooler could copy.

I run a fan at night for white noise. The clicks sound like they come from near my phone, which sits by me on the bedside table. I have heard these clicks on recordings before and deleted them, thinking they were nothing. This is the first time I have ever heard anything.

Recording cleaned up.

Posted by Redditor u/metafive:

I cannot verify if this is a family story or an urban legend, but here is the account:

My family moved to rural Nebraska when they immigrated from Germany in the mid-1800s. Near the turn of the century, disease spread fast in the homesteading area, killing many family members. When someone died from sickness, burying them quickly stopped the virus from spreading to the living. This meant no wake periods.

An aunt of some number of "greats" before her relationship with me dies from a disease. She gets buried in the family cemetery on the homestead. The dogs liked her a lot, so it was not surprising that the two dogs stayed near the grave after the funeral.

The rest of the family started to think something was wrong after a week and a half. The dogs kept visiting her grave almost constantly. But they were not just at the grave. They acted distressed, frantic, and barked often there.

This continued for about two weeks while the family checked on it. They dug up the casket and opened it.

The deceased's hair had all been pulled out. Her fingers were raw and bloody, mangled where deep scratches appear on the inside of the casket door.

She was comatose when they buried her. She woke up underground, spending about her last five days alive in a buried casket.

Posted by Redditor u/bingbong1234:

I waited a long time to tell Reddit the full story of "The Whistler." This story needs many details, but it is unexplainable, creepy, and 100% true. I also have video proof.

At eight, I walked my dog with my mom through our Lansing, Michigan neighborhood. It was about 11 p.m. The area next to us held a swamp and woods. Silence mixed with a slight wind. Down in the swamp, someone whistled at us. The whistle sounded like a bird, yet each one varied enough to sound human. It went higher, then lower. I cannot describe the sound. My mom looked worried and scared. She grabbed my hand, telling us to go inside fast. I did not get it since I was young, but watching my mom panic made me panic. Later, I forgot about it.

Two years later, I took my dog out again late at night. A large bush near the front door could hide someone. As I finished walking, the whistling started again. The pitches and inconsistent, human-like tones were the same. Hearing it gave me a chill. I remembered seeing my mom terrified, looking into the swamp at something unseen (maybe she couldn't see it). I ran inside immediately.

Years passed. I thought about it less and less. I told only a few people. Eventually, it left my mind.

Last summer, I am 24. I started dating Sarah. We moved to South Dakota for work. For Independence Day, we went to Pierre, SD to watch fireworks along the Missouri River bank. There was a free camping spot behind a hospital. We pitched our tent, hung out, and watched the fireworks from the river. We were near the campground's end; few people were around. As it got dark, the fireworks started. They were far away, so the light was weak. We sat right at the river's edge to see them. A huge thunderhead approached; a storm was coming. The air felt electric, and the wind picked up. The atmosphere felt eerie.

Police boats pushed other boats off the river, leaving our area for that task. Other campers walked to the river for a better fireworks view, but Sarah and I stayed, drinking tallboys and kicking it. Suddenly, we heard a paddle dip into the water. We saw a figure steering a canoe about 20 miles offshore. Sarah left for more beers, leaving me alone to watch this mystery person. Then, they whistled at me. My whole body froze, covered in goosebumps. It was the exact same whistler from my childhood, over a decade earlier. I looked at the figure, but it was too dark to see who it was. They wore a hat. When they faced me from the shore, they stopped paddling, turned the canoe toward me, and whistled right at me. I got so scared I stood up and yelled, "Who are you?!" They said nothing, whistled a few times more, spun the canoe around, and paddled out of sight.

I film videos, so I kept my camera ready, recording the fireworks. As the canoe almost vanished, I grabbed my camera and filmed them whistling as they left. When Sarah returned from getting beers, she was confused about my fear. When I told her, she got freaked out too. I thought we would both die that night. How did this whistling person follow me, after fourteen years, all the way to South Dakota? Was it chance? Why the same whistling sound? Who was that person and where did they go? Many questions remain unanswered. Today, I fear being outside in the dark and hearing that whistling again.

Posted by Redditor u/woolyboy76:

A few years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. A two-month-old newborn slept in the room next door. I had a video monitor by my bed so my wife and I could check on him easily.

I pushed the button to start the video. What I saw scared me more than anything before.

My baby boy is gone.

Instincts told me to run to the baby's room. Instead, I froze. I looked over; my wife slept next to me.

Finally, I moved. But I did not run to the other room like I should have. I turned up the volume on the baby monitor instead.

I heard another woman sing a lullaby. I am not joking. Another woman sang to my baby in a soft, gentle, melodic voice. I do not recall the song, something like, "Go to sleep, little baby".

My freeze ended. I jumped up, ran down the hall, and entered my son's room.

He slept soundly in his crib. No woman. No singing.

The monitor picked up the signal from our next-door neighbors. They had just bought a video monitor for their newborn (based on our advice).

Nothing supernatural happens here. Still, I don't know if I've ever seen anything scarier.

Redditor u/posted this.someolddude.:

I have an important job. Daily, I check containers for hazardous waste, including medical waste, to decide if they suit a specific use. Most work involves pressurized containers holding harmless stuff under huge pressure—hundreds of times air pressure. These vessels fail. People die. Period.

I work this field for nearly 40 years. I'm nearing retirement; I've commissioned countless pressure vessels. Thousands of containers exist across industries, handled by people unaware of one key fact: the commissioner heard voices since age 14. There are three voices. One is a snarker. Another is silent and childish. The third is frighteningly, violently insane.

The last voice appeared when I graduated college. Each time I stamp a container, a soft voice whispers in my ear, criticizing me for missing a chance to kill someone. I must steer into oncoming traffic every time I drive home. I list bomb, meth lab, or homemade firearm ingredients more often than I want to. That voice guides my judgment on every device I commission. If the voice stops speaking before I stamp something, I recheck my numbers.

I cannot measure the gap between me and them. How much of their words is mine? How much of my actions come from them? Thousands work in supposedly safe settings because a madman stamped a paper. I drove my wife, children, and family away to keep my secret safe. After I retire, my only company will be a professional reputation built on false trust. With retirement near, I ask daily if I should confess and enter a mental hospital. I would rather die; that single thought gets a silent answer from the others in my head.

Redditor u/posted this.scarsandstripes.:

My family and most friends know this story.

Amanda is my brother's girlfriend. She sought her first apartment and moved from her parents' house. She and my brother did not want to live together since they only dated a few months. She looked for a roommate online. Browsing Craigslist, she found an ad titled something like "Roommate Wanted: Females Only." This type of ad was common because the area she searched had many young professionals.

The room rental cost about $225 monthly; that was cheap compared to other listings. The occupant claimed to be a 23-year-old college student who avoided males. The other roommate had a separate room and bathroom. Amanda liked the place so far. The listing showed only one exterior photo. Amanda emailed the occupant to schedule a meeting and tour. Thirty minutes later, she got an email with all the details and a time to visit. The girl worked late and asked Amanda to show up at 8 p.m.

When Amanda arrived, a handwritten note on the front door read, "Door broken, use back door." The house looked nice but messy: tall grass, weeds, dusty windows. Amanda saw no alarms. She knocked on the back door, and an older man opened it. Amanda first thought she was at the wrong place, but the man assured her. He said the occupant (I forget the name) was gone and he was the landlord. The occupant asked him to meet Amanda because she was working late. He seemed nice and offered a tour.

Alarms sounded but did not hit red alert. The man appeared to be in his 40s, unshaven, and looked like he lived in his car. Only the kitchen light was on. Walking around, Amanda spotted a major problem: no furniture. Nothing. The landlord answered questions politely but seemed annoyed by lights staying on too long. He rushed her through rooms, letting her see them for only a few moments. The landlord would not open one room, saying it was the occupant's space and he did not want to invade her privacy. Down the hallway into the living room, she saw a plank nailed across the front door. It was definitely broken.

Amanda's creep factor increased, so she ended the walk-through politely. While thanking the guy, he mentioned he forgot to show her the basement. It has new furniture and works well as a rec room; she should check it out. Amanda and the landlord stood in the small hallway between the front living room and the back kitchen. The basement door sat in this hallway. When he opened it, it faced out, creating a barrier between Amanda and the back door. The basement was pitch black. He smiled, pointed down the stairs, and said, "Ladies first."

Luck struck next. Amanda got a text just as a random person parked in front of the house. Thinking fast, she pretended it was a call and answered. "Hey! Yeah, are you here? I'll come out from around back and let you in. It's great, you have to see it." She confidently moved past the landlord and exited through the back door. The guy looked confused when he saw her. Outside, she ran to her car and sped away fast.

After Amanda returned home, she told her mother and brother everything. Cops arrived, took her statement, and investigated. The Craigslist post was removed.

Redditor u/ligamentary:

I watched my daughter's kids while she and her husband traveled.

They have a teenage daughter named Alyssa.

Around 3 a.m., a strange rustling woke me. I looked out the window and saw movement. A boy came out from the bushes by the side of the house. I saw a bike left on the lawn that was not ours.

My first thought was a burglar scouting houses. But since he looked young and used a bike, I figured scaring him would make him leave. I did not want to ruin a teenager's life by calling the police right away.

I went onto the porch, turned on the lights, and asked, "Can I help you?" I used my classroom voice.

The guy looked surprised, not scared. He wore a letterman jacket, but in the streetlights, I saw he looked older than my granddaughter. He seemed gruff and more wiry than athletic.

He walked closer to the house and said, "Yah, I’m looking for Alyssa." I gave him a disapproving look, hoping he would see he sought a girl late at night. A grumpy old person answered: it was time to separate.

I think Alyssa knew her parents were leaving. Perhaps before she knew I would stay over, she told a secret older boyfriend to come over.

Late, alone with kids, I did not want him near the house. I felt weird he arrived so late. I needed to confirm Alyssa actually wanted to talk. I asked, “I’m sorry. Who?” He replied, “Alyssa. You know, Alyssa Lastname. This is her house.” I thought he knew her full name; they must be friends.

I told him, “You wait there.” He started walking up. A sick burn hit my gut. Instinct took over. I yelled, “NO. STOP. FREEZE.” I corrected myself, “You stay right there. This is private property; do not move closer. Wait. There.”

I entered. Alyssa slept one room over from the noise. I woke her and told her, “I don’t know what the big idea was to have friends over this time of night, but tell them to go home.” She had no idea what I meant.

I said, “There’s a guy outside asking for you.” Confused, she got up and went to the window. She saw him and turned white.

“He asked for me?” “Yeah.” “By name?” “Yes.” “Call the police. I’ve never seen him in my life.”

I called 911 right away. While on the phone, Alyssa tugged my arm. “He’s coming up!” I had younger kids. I kept the door latched, pulled it just open enough for the latch, and yelled, “I asked my husband and none of us know an Alyssa Lastname. Leave my property or I’m calling 911.”

He got angry and yelled for her out. The police arrived quickly. Hearing the sirens, he grabbed his bike and fled. I watched him run. He jumped into a car without lights or front plates and sped away.

The police followed where I pointed. They did not catch him. They told us to take all her social media details offline if she didn't know this person. They mentioned similar reports recently and were investigating.

I got a heavy-duty lock. She slept in my room for the rest of my visit.

Posted on [Date]Reddit:

Not one post; it was an entire account.

Eric met a girl he calls Annie on Reddit. They chatted almost daily, it seemed, but only through posts and comments. Some comment chains reached over 20,000 replies.

They shared inside jokes. One joke involved their posts being named “Eric's and Annie's Branch.”

Eric fell in love with Annie, who had a boyfriend then. Later, Eric met another girl and Annie, who loved him and was single again, could not handle it. She told him he is amazing and that stopping the chat was best because it could not work in real life.

Annie left.

Eric felt devastated. He missed her greatly. He kept posting “Eric and Annie's branch” posts with thousands of replies... but all came from him.

He kept doing that for years, waiting for her return. She never came back.

He posted "The last branch Eric can make for Annie." Reading that gave me chills. It sounds like something bad is coming.

I messaged him asking if he was okay. He never answered.