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The Gas Meter Man



I used to live in a weird little village. A couple thousand people lived there supposedly, but it was a commuter village, so their lives were elsewhere aside from the farmer’s market during the summer, a general store, and an unsettling little pet food store, but that’s a different story. I didn’t go to the local school and I’d been excommunicated so I didn’t really know anyone aside from the guy across the street and his bigoted landlord.

Every so often, a guy would come over to the house to check the gas meters. He never really bothered us aside from occasionally looking in the windows for a little too long before walking away. It was odd, but seemed harmless.

As the year went on, he started coming over more than once a month. My mom figured it was because of the snow and they needed to make sure the meters were still working. That seemed plausible, and, being a kid at the time, I didn’t want to think anything else.

Fast forward a couple months. My house had two stories and the yard was sloped so the front entrance on the top floor was flat as well as the entrance to the backyard on the lower level. There was a concrete ledge next to the house that was barely big enough for most of the trash cans. It was a pain to get to and from there you could see right into my mom’s room. If you had curtains and closed them, people thought you were up to something.

Since it was such a small town, either you knew everyone and their business, you knew someone like that, you minded your own business and didn’t really talk to anyone, or you simply had a vacation home that was clearly empty for the entire winter. We’d already been marked as someone no one should trust, talk to, and in a couple cases even look in the direction of in our last village so we went with it. One day the gas guy got onto that ledge, which must’ve taken a great deal of effort, and stared into my mom’s window. Because of the layout of the room she didn’t see when he got there so who knows how long he watched her. He ran after getting caught.

A week or so later a different gas guy came by the house with a little thing that looked like a smartphone. My mom talked to him and it turned out they hadn’t sent the other guy and didn’t know who he was or how he got a uniform. He also said that he could just read the meters with his little device and wouldn’t need to mess with the meters unless they were repairing something.

The guy never came back, and I moved pretty far away, but it still scares me.

—
Credits to: photofreecreepypasta

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