I delivered newspapers in a fairly rural area the summer after I graduated high school. One night, it's pouring rain and I'm driving down this dirt road that is a dead end to a farmer's house. I've been down this road a few dozen times and know the routine - drop the paper off in the box at the end of the drive, whip a shitty, back up the road and off to my next stop.
This time, as I am getting out of my car to place the newspaper in the holder I see this man in the ditch wearing a drenched white shirt running at me as fast as he can. He got within 20 feet of me. I could see what my mind pictured as a hatchet or axe. I had never ran so hard in my life.
EDIT: I ran back around the front of my car, jumped in and took off. Everything happened so fast that I almost didn't realize where I was.
It must have been about 5-10 miles later that I attempted to call 911. No signal using my Motorola flip phone in the middle of no where in the year 2000. I had to stop at a farmer's house to call the police at 2:00 am.
Turns out the guy killed himself within an hour of his run with me in that wooded ditch.
EDIT: I had not thought about that night in a long time. Kind of rattled nerves again thinking about it.