Horror Stories - 3 Disturbing TRUE Airbnb Horror Stories You Won’t Believe

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Starting point is 00:01:27 Story 1 It was the year 2015 and my wife Priya and I were enjoying our first vacation after the wedding. The excitement was indescribable. We were overflowing with enthusiasm. at being in New York, the city we had both dreamed of visiting for years. I had been saving for a long time for this trip, planning every detail meticulously. From Broadway tickets to walks in Central Park, everything was carefully organized. Instead of booking a hotel like most people would, I wanted to try something different. At that time, everyone was raving about Airbnb, so I thought,

Starting point is 00:02:04 Why not? I remember spending hours scrolling through dozens of listings until one caught my eye in particular. A small and cozy one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, just 15 minutes from downtown. The photos were charming, modern furniture, large windows flooding the rooms with natural light and a warm, inviting atmosphere. The host's name was Gary, and he had five-star reviews. However, his profile picture struck me as odd. There was something strange about him.

Starting point is 00:02:34 His smile looked forced and his eyes didn't match the expression, but I brushed it off. After all, this was New York, a city full of eccentric people, right? I booked it without thinking too much. When we arrived, Gary was already waiting at the entrance. He was a tall, lanky man with greasy hair plastered to his forehead. His skin was so pale and damp it looked as though he hadn't seen the sun in weeks. He greeted us with a wide smile that didn't reach his eyes. the same as in his profile picture.

Starting point is 00:03:06 I don't know why, but seeing him in person filled me with unease. Welcome, welcome, he said with a voice that was overly enthusiastic, almost rehearsed. This will be your home for the next five days. I hope you enjoy it. Priya nudged me gently and smiled, whispering. He's just being nice. Stop overthinking. I nodded, pretending to be calm, but I couldn't ignore how Gary's stare lingered too long,

Starting point is 00:03:32 as though he were evaluating us. When he handed me the keys, his fingers brushed against mine. They were ice cold. Enjoy your stay, he added in a lower tone, watching us closely as we carried our bags inside. The apartment was exactly as shown in the pictures, perhaps even better. Priya was delighted, running from one room to another like a child on Christmas morning. I, on the other hand, couldn't shake off that strange feeling.

Starting point is 00:04:00 The place was spotless. too spotless, more like a staged showroom than a lived in home. That night as we lay in bed, I found it impossible to fall asleep. The noises of the city could have been part of it, but there was something else. I felt exposed, as if someone was watching us. I tried convincing myself it was just paranoia, maybe the stress of the trip. But then I noticed it. Right above the bed was a smoke detector.

Starting point is 00:04:30 It was larger than usual and had a tension. tiny red light blinking. My stomach tightened. It's just a smoke detector, I muttered under my breath. Stop imagining things. The next day we set out to explore the city, checking off all the tourist cliches, Times Square, the Empire State Building, and of course a slice of New York pizza. Priya was radiant, her enthusiasm so contagious that for a moment I forgot my worries. But when we returned in the afternoon that uneasiness came flooding back. The moment I opened the door, the air felt heavier, almost suffocating. Unaware of my discomfort, Priya was already thinking about what to wear the next day. While she showered, I wandered through the living room, inspecting

Starting point is 00:05:16 everything more carefully. That's when I saw it. A tiny black dot in the corner of the bookshelf. Barely noticeable, but when I leaned closer, I realized it was a miniature camera, a pinhole lens. My heart skipped a beat. I started searching every corner, and my worst fears were confirmed. There were hidden cameras everywhere, in the smoke detector, in the air vents, even inside a decorative wall clock. My hands trembled as I opened the drawer of the nightstand. Another lens was pointing straight at me. Pry, I called urgently.

Starting point is 00:05:53 She rushed out of the bathroom alarm by my panicked expression. What's wrong? I pointed at the clock, then at the smoke detector. We're being watched. We packed our things in a hurry, ready to leave immediately. But just as we were about to open the door, we heard footsteps in the hallway, slow, deliberate, then a loud thud. Leaving so soon, it was Gary's voice. Priya clung to my arm, her eyes wide with fear.

Starting point is 00:06:23 I gestured for her to stay quiet. The doorknob began to turn, and then complete. complete silence. I grabbed the phone and whispered to the police while Priya curled up on the bed hugging her knees. They advised us not to confront the host and to wait. Every minute dragged on like an eternity. Every creek of the floor, every gust of wind made my heart pound in my chest. Finally, siren shattered the silence. Officers burst into the apartment and discovered something we hadn't even noticed. A locked door at the end of the hallway. Gary had never mentioned it. We assumed it was just a storage closet.

Starting point is 00:07:02 The police forced it open, and what they found inside still haunts me today. It was a small room with a single chair and a desk. On the desk sat a laptop streaming multiple live feeds from the hidden cameras, even from the bathroom. And slouched in front of the screen was Gary. He didn't even look up when the officers entered, just sat there, hypnotized by the monitors with a sick grin on his face. You ruined the fun, he muttered as they had. handcuffed him and took him away. We later learned that Gary had been renting out his apartment for years with the sole purpose of spying on his guests. He had hidden the cameras with meticulous

Starting point is 00:07:39 care and turned that locked room into his control center. Priya and I didn't sleep a wink that night. The very thought of having been watched like that made my stomach churn. We flew back to India the next day, cutting our trip short. For weeks, I couldn't shake the feeling of being observed. I distrusted strangers, stopped using Airbnb altogether, and even covered the cameras on my phone and computer. I never found out what Gary's true intentions were, whether he was just a voyeur or had much darker plans. But what I will never forget is the look in his eyes as the police dragged him away. Story 2. This happened in 2012. At that time, I was looking for a quiet place where I could escape the stress of city life.

Starting point is 00:08:29 After spending hours scrolling through endless listings online, I came across a farm stay that seemed perfect. The photos showed a picturesque country house surrounded by wide meadows, a porch with rocking chairs, and a small chicken coop. The owner named Victoria had glowing reviews. Guests described her as warm and attentive, and they all mentioned the peace and serenity of the farm. One review even said she had welcomed them with freshly baked bread upon arrival. When I made the reservation, Victoria was very attentive, answering all my questions quickly and even sharing recommendations about hiking trails and nearby attractions. Everything seemed so good it was almost too good to be true.

Starting point is 00:09:12 But two days before my arrival, her replies stopped completely. I sent her several messages to confirm my arrival time, but I never got a response. I assumed she was busy preparing the place. On the day of my trip, I drove straight from a campsite deep. in the forest. My phone signal was terrible, almost non-existent, so I couldn't check if there were any last-minute updates. I followed the directions Victoria had sent me earlier, which led me through winding country roads and sleepy little towns. The farther I went, the fewer houses I saw, until the scenery turned into neglected fields. Finally, after driving down a dirt road lined with

Starting point is 00:09:52 thick trees, the farmhouse appeared. By the time I arrived, the sky was already dark. The house looked run down, and the garden was overgrown with weeds. The chicken coop was empty, and there was no sign of the horses Victoria had mentioned in the listing. The whole property gave off an air of abandonment. My unease grew when I noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. I turned off the car engine and hesitated a few seconds before stepping out. The silence was absolute. No rustling leaves, no distant hum of cars. Only the car. Only the car was a little. crunch of gravel beneath my boots as I walked toward the entrance. Hello, Victoria, I called, but my voice sounded far too loud in that stillness.

Starting point is 00:10:37 No one answered. The house looked as though it had been abandoned in a hurry. The porch light didn't work, and the windows were dark. I pushed the door open a little more and peeked inside. The interior was in disarray, blankets strewn across a half-deflated air mattress. The kitchen counter cluttered with random objects. And the The faucet dripped weakly when I turned it. The refrigerator reeked of spoiled food, and on the floor sat a dish of dry cat food, untouched. There was no cat anywhere. The more I looked, the stranger it all felt.

Starting point is 00:11:12 It was as if someone had walked out in the middle of their routine and never returned. My instincts screamed that something was wrong. I decided it was best to leave and find another place for the night. I was just about to go when I froze. A soft knock at the door echoed through the silence like a gunshot. My heart skipped a beat. I slowly approached the entrance and asked, Hello? Who's there?

Starting point is 00:11:36 No answer. The knock came again, this time louder and with an insistent rhythm. I reached for the doorknob but stopped mid-air. There was something unsettling about that knocking. Too deliberate, too methodical, as if whoever was outside was patiently waiting for me to open. Instead of doing so, I looked out the side window. The porch was empty. My chest tightened when for the third time the knock thundered through the house, louder than ever. I grabbed my keys and sprinted to the car, my footsteps pounding in the silent night. When I reached the vehicle, I saw it, a silhouette at the edge of the property, half hidden among the trees. It was a tall man broad-shouldered, standing still and staring at me. I froze for a few seconds, clutching the the key so tightly my knuckles turned white. The man stepped forward, then another step,

Starting point is 00:12:30 and suddenly he began running straight toward me. Panic surged through me. With trembling hands, I fumbled with the key until I finally managed to unlock the car. I threw myself inside, slammed the door shut, and started the engine. The stranger kept running, his face obscured by darkness. I reversed hard, tires skidding on the gravel. As I turned onto the dirt road, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The man was no longer running. He was standing motionless at the entrance of the house, staring at me. I couldn't make out his features, but that still figure sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

Starting point is 00:13:08 I drove as fast as I could, my hands shaking on the wheel. I didn't stop until I reached a town half an hour away. There I parked at a brightly lit gas station and tried to calm down. At last, my phone regained signal, so I called the rental platform to report. what had happened. They apologized repeatedly, promised to investigate, and refunded my money, but none of that eased my nerves. Later, while searching online, I found something that took my breath away. The farm had been put up for sale months before my arrival. The family had moved out suddenly, leaving the property abandoned. The listing had been removed, but for some reason the rental

Starting point is 00:13:47 platform hadn't flagged it. I never found out who that man was or what he wanted that night. maybe he was squatting there, or maybe he was waiting for unsuspecting travelers like me. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm grateful I listen to my instincts and left that place in time. Story three, I had always felt fascinated by Paris, its streets brimming with culture, its air steeped in history. So when a friend suggested renting an Airbnb for a weekend in the 18th District, I didn't hesitate. A cozy retreat, he said. An opportunity to disconnect, I thought. It sounded perfect.

Starting point is 00:14:33 The four-story apartment had a rustic charm with tall windows overlooking cobblestone streets and a wrought iron balcony, ideal for sipping tea while pretending not to be just another tourist. I was the last to choose a room, and by twist of fate or bad luck, I ended up in the attic. The attic was nothing like I had imagined.

Starting point is 00:14:55 A narrow creaking staircase led up to a door that groaned when opened. The space was small, with a roof so low and slanted I had to hunch over. The air was heavy, stale, and the absence of windows made it feel like a tomb. From a single cable hung a light bulb, casting a weak glow on the bare walls. Something about the room unsettled me. Goose bumps crawled over my skin, as though I were being watched. I tried to brush it off. It's just a place to sleep, I told myself, setting my suitcase beside. the worn-out bed frame. My friends laughed at my dramatic reaction, but the unease stayed with me like a persistent buzz. The afternoon passed with laughter, tea, and Parisian takeout, and for a while

Starting point is 00:15:41 I almost forgot the oppressive atmosphere of the attic, almost. By the end of the night, slightly tipsy from drinking and exhausted, I climbed the stairs to my room. The bad feeling returned stronger than before. The door seemed heavier to push open. Inside the air was colder and the light bulb flickered erratically. I slipped under the thin blanket, body stiff, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Hours dragged on and sleep never came. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the building's occasional creaks as it settled. My restless mind began to wander. Stories of haunted addicts, restless spirits. I tried to shake them off, but they clung to me like cobwebs. Around four in the morning, I heard it, a faint creek, the sound of footsteps on the stairs. I froze every sense on high alert.

Starting point is 00:16:35 The steps grew clearer, sharper, rising slowly, as though someone savored the groan of each stare. It's one of the guys, I whispered shakily. A prank, I thought. I waited for laughter, for mocking. but it never came. The footsteps reached the attic door. My heart pounded wildly as I watched the doorknob turn. The door opened with a long grating squeal, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. Who's there? I asked, my voice breaking. Silence.

Starting point is 00:17:08 The door swung fully open, and then I saw it. A shadowy figure framed in the doorway, its silhouette faint but unmistakable. My throat tightened as it stepped inside. slow, deliberate. I scrambled for something to defend myself with. My hands closed around the bedside lamp, and I clutched it tightly, pressing against the wall. Don't come closer, I shouted, though it came out more like a desperate whisper. The figure paused as if mocking my weak attempt at authority.

Starting point is 00:17:40 Then it moved again, advancing, its presence crushing. I swung the lamp, shattering the bulb against the floor. The intruder didn't react. Panic overtook me. I tried to edge past, keeping my distance, but the attic seemed to shrink. The walls closing in. Without thinking, I hurled the broken lamp at the figure. The crash echoed through the room, and in that instant I bolted.

Starting point is 00:18:05 I flung the door open and stumbled down the narrow stairs, bare feet slipping on the worn wood. Panic drove me. Adrenaline drowned out the pain in my legs. I reached the third floor and banged frantically on my friend Sophie's door. She opened half asleep and confused, but I didn't give her a chance to ask. There's someone in the attic, I gasped. We have to leave now. Her expression shifted from annoyance to alarm at the sight of my terror.

Starting point is 00:18:33 Without argument, she grabbed her coat, and we hurried down the stairs. When we reached the ground floor, something froze us in place. The front door stood wide open. We didn't think. We didn't grab our things. We ran. The cold Paris air. stung our faces as we fled down the street, panting.

Starting point is 00:18:53 We didn't stop until several blocks away, where we collapsed onto a bench beneath the flickering glow of a street lamp. Sophie tried to piece together my rambling words. Footsteps, door, shadow. She widened her eyes, and though she didn't question me, she only said, We need to warn the others. None of us had a phone. We returned to the apartment hours later.

Starting point is 00:19:17 The others were already awake. their faces a mix of confusion and irritation. What the hell happened? Alex asked. I tried to explain, but to them my story sounded absurd. They went up to the attic and found nothing unusual. The open front door, they insisted, was probably because we'd left it that way. The shattered lamper and Sophie and me accusations that we'd made a mess in some drunken escapade. You imagined it, one of them said dismissively.

Starting point is 00:19:47 The place is fine. I wanted to believe them, to convince myself it had all been a bad dream brought on by the attic's heavy atmosphere. But the memory of those footsteps, of that silhouette haunted me. By midday I couldn't take it anymore. I suggested to Sophie that we book a hotel, and bless her, she didn't object. The others mocked us, annoyed more than worried, but they let us go. As I packed my things, I glanced one last time at the stairs leading to the attic. The door was shut as though nothing had happened, but I knew the truth.

Starting point is 00:20:22 Up there was something, something I could never explain.

Horror Stories - 3 Disturbing TRUE Airbnb Horror Stories You Won’t Believe

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