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ITT: We share stories about times when something just didn't feel right, and we later learned why. Bonus points for green text.

> Fifteen minutes ago.
> Walking home across one of two bridges that is the only access to my house.
> Overwhelming feeling of dread.
> Closest comparable experience was looking at my grandfather's coffin and knowing his lifeless corpse lay inside.
> Compulsion to jump off bridge becomes unbearable.
> When almost at other side, I limber over the rail and decide to shamble down the rocks to "look at the water," but really the dim street lights had become spotlights.
> Wonder if I'm about to succumb to psychosis.
> Hear footsteps at other end of bridge, multiple footsteps.
> "THE NEXT PERSON I SEE [illegible] BASH THE FUCK OUT OF!"
> See seven guys spanning the bridge in a line.
> They're walking shoulder width apart and blocking two lanes of traffic, not that there was traffic.
> Young guy on bike holding fishing rod appears above me, sees the guys, apparently tries to turn around, followed by clash of bike on cement
> Shouting so much shouting.
> Can hear the scuff of boots scraping cement as they kick this poor kid half to death.
> All of a sudden, no sound.
> Wait for forty minutes before I crawl on my stomach back to the rail.
> Bridge is deserted except for a bike, a fishing rod, and bloody smears.
> Turn around, take long-as-fuck route home to second bridge.
> From second bridge, first bridge is visible.
> See their silhouettes in the distance.
> Know that they know that I know.
> Heart hasn't yet returned to normal.
> Must have almost smoked a 20 pack from stress since I've been home.