Horror Stories - 4 Disturbing REAL Target Horror Stories That Will Make You Fear Late-Night Shopping

Episode Date: July 4, 2026

☕ Support the show, send your own horror stories, and help shape future episodes. 🎧 Join the darkness here: ⁠https://buymeacoffee.com/horrorstoriesnetwork⁠ 4 Disturbing REAL Target Horror Stories That Turned Ordinary Shopping Trips Into Nightmares brings you four chilling tales of quiet aisles, empty parking lots, strange customers, suspicious behavior, late-night shopping trips, and terrifying moments that made ordinary store visits feel deeply unsafe. What should have been a simple stop for groceries, clothes, or last-minute items quickly became something far more disturbing. These real Target horror stories capture the unsettling fear of being watched, followed, cornered, or trapped in a place that should feel familiar and safe. If you enjoy disturbing real-life style horror, creepy retail stories, suspenseful narration, and terrifying encounters based on everyday situations gone wrong, this video will keep you tense from beginning to end. Turn off the lights, put on your headphones, and get ready for four Target horror stories that may change the way you feel about late-night shopping forever. #TargetHorrorStories#TrueHorrorStories#ScaryStories#CreepyStories#DisturbingStories#RealHorrorStories#RetailHorror#HorrorNarration#StorytimeHorror#NightmareFuel 4 disturbing real target horror stories, target horror stories, real target horror stories, disturbing target stories, scary target stories, creepy target stories, target shopping horror stories, real retail horror stories, retail horror stories, scary store stories, creepy store encounters, disturbing true horror stories, real life horror stories, late night shopping horror, empty parking lot horror stories, creepy aisle stories, true scary stories, horror narration, storytime horror, disturbing real encounters, scary shopping stories, nightmare fuel stories, creepy story narration, scary stories to listen to, horror stories based on real life, unsettling retail encounters, dark store horror stories, creepy customer stories, followed in a store story, terrifying shopping experiences, real scary encounters, creepy checkout stories, big box store horror stories, fear in public places, true scary stories for youtube Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Hello, everyone. and welcome back to horror stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep, so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe

if you're enjoying the episodes. Story 1. This happened when I was about 13 years old. My mom and I were at Target doing normal shopping, nothing out of the ordinary. We were not in a hurry or anything, so I was wandering off through different aisles like I usually did. It was my routine.

Browse around for a while, look at things, and then meet back up with my mom. No big deal. I was in one of the aisles, calm and minding my own business, when suddenly a woman I had never seen before came straight up to me and wrapped me in a hug. Not a polite, quick hug, but a deep one, full of emotion, almost desperate.

At first I was not alarmed. I am Hispanic, and my extended family is huge. It is not unusual for an older relative to greet me with a hug even if I do not recognize them right away. I assume she was someone from the family, maybe a distant aunt or a friend of my moms who had not seen me since I was little. But something did not feel right.

She held onto me for too long, and I heard her sniffling like she was crying. Then she started calling me by a name that was not mine. I do not remember exactly what it was. Let us say it was Eliza. Eliza, it's you, sweetheart. I've missed you so much, she whispered to me. That was the first moment I felt a small spark of unease.

I pulled away gently and told her, as politely as I could, that she had the wrong person, that I was not Eliza, that I had not. never seen her before. I thought it would turn into some funny misunderstanding, something we would laugh about before she apologized and went on her way. But then everything took a very dark turn. She just stared at me, and her expression changed into something bewildering, disturbing. It was as if she had not heard me at all. Her eyes filled with tears and she reached out to touch my face, as if trying to convince her own senses that I was real.

And then in the most broken voice I have ever heard, she whispered. But baby, you died. My stomach dropped. It was not just that she was mistaking me for another girl. She truly, with absolute and complete conviction, believed I was her dead daughter. She kept talking, her words tumbling over each other as if she were in shock. Why did you die, my love? Where have you been?

I buried you. I saw you in that car. But you're here now. Thank God you're here. I had no idea what to do. Every logical part of me was telling me it was a horrible case of mistaken identity. But the way she was looking at me threw me off so badly that for a second I actually started to doubt myself. I had the strangest thought. What if she is right? What if I am Eliza? What if I forgot everything? I repeated that I was not Eliza, but she would not accept it. She smiled through her tears, shaking her head as if I were joking. Of course it's you. A mother recognizes her own daughter's face. At this point, you might be thinking, okay, maybe she had some kind of mental health issue. Maybe she was homeless or under the influence of something.

But no, she was perfectly put together. Well-dressed, clean, wearing makeup, with a normal shopping basket full of everyday things. She did not have that confused or lost look you sometimes see when someone is in the middle of a crisis. Everything about her seemed ordinary, except for the fact that she was absolutely convinced I was her dead little girl. The more she talked, the more it felt like she was reliving a trauma from the past in real time, as if she had truly believed her daughter was gone forever, her, and then suddenly, against all odds, had her right in front of her again. And the more it went on, the more panic started to take over me. I felt trapped, like I was losing my grip on reality.

The weight of her words, the intensity of her emotions. I could not handle it. I mumbled some excuse and practically ran out of that aisle, weaving through the store until I found my mom. I expected my mom to brush it off, maybe even laugh when I told her what had just happened. But as soon as I explained it, the look on her face scared me more than the woman herself. My mom is not the overprotective or clingy type. She has always given me a lot of independence. But for the rest of the time we were in that target, she did not let me out of her sight. She held onto my arm while we walked, kept looking over her shoulder again and again.

and even made me stay right next to her while we checked out. She was shaken, and that made my blood run cold. That moment stayed with me for a long time. For weeks I kept expecting someone else to approach me. A father, a brother, a grandmother, some other member of Eliza's family, someone who would look at me with that same heartbreaking recognition, that certainty that hits you in the pit of your stomach. Thankfully, it never happened, but to this day, I still think about that woman.

Story 2. When I was around six years old, my mom had a weekly routine. Every Wednesday at 11 a.m., right after an appointment she had, she would take my little brother and me to target. And it was not just any target. It was one of those huge super targets that has everything, from groceries to home goods. and it was also in a nice safe neighborhood. The kind of place where mom shop with their kids,

older couples stroll around looking at random things, and on the surface, nothing bad ever seems to happen. I always loved those target trips. My brother and I would almost always get a little treat, and we would run to the toy aisle while my mom picked up whatever we needed that week. It was such a normal part of life that I never questioned it. until the day I noticed him. The first time I saw the man, there was nothing especially remarkable about him.

At least nothing I could understand at six years old. He looked scruffy, probably in his mid to late 50s, wearing a worn out Carhart jacket and jeans full of holes and paint stains. He had a strange, toothless smile, the kind that makes your stomach turn. I was a child and children stare, so I kept looking at him and he looked right back at me then we turned down another aisle

and he disappeared the following week I did not see him at all but the week after that he showed up again this time only a few aisles away at first I did not think much of it maybe he was just someone who happened to shop at the same time we did but week after week he kept appearing

sometimes I would spot him in the grocery section other times near the registers. And one day I saw him standing in the toy aisle. That was when I started to feel uneasy. Even so, I did not say anything to my mom because what was I supposed to tell her? Hey, I keep seeing a weird guy at Target. It did not seem like enough reason to raise an alarm.

Then one day everything changed. We were shopping like always when my mom asked my brother and me to go to the next aisle over. to grab something. We did not think twice and went. But the second we turned the corner and were out of my mom's sight, he was there. He walked right up to us and said, hi. My little brother grabbed my arm. We had been taught not to talk to strangers, so we did not answer. We just took a small step back, hoping he would go away. He did not. Instead, he stepped forward again and said, my name is Tom do you want to go look at the toys with me at that moment my brother and i completely fell apart we burst into tears and ran back to my mom as fast as we could barely able to get words out between sobs i do not even remember exactly what i told her i just know i was crying so hard i could hardly breathe my mom did not panic at least not in any obvious way she pulled us in close

on either side of her, whispered for us to stay next to her, and kept shopping. But I could feel that something in her had changed. She was on guard. About 10 minutes later, we were in the children's clothing section. My brother and I were still hiccuping from crying so hard, trying to calm down when I saw him again. He was walking straight toward us. I grabbed my mom's arm and pointed at him. Her eyes followed where I was pointing. and immediately she started moving. She did not run or yell. She simply began walking with us,

calmly toward the store's security guard, who was standing near the exit. In a low, steady voice, she explained to the guard that a man had been following us around the store and had approached her children trying to lure us away with him. She was still explaining when,

as if he had been summoned, Tom came and stood right beside us. I swear, my heart stopped. He did not even try to hide what he was doing. He started talking over my mom, loudly, slurring his words so badly they were almost impossible to understand. I do not know what he was saying, but I remember his voice, rough, angry, like he was upset that we had said something. Then suddenly he looked down at my brother and me and said, Why are you crying? I was already terrified, but hearing that made me fall apart all over again. We clung to our mom while

we cried. The guard must have decided he had heard enough because he stepped between us and Tom and told him very firmly that he needed to leave the store immediately. But Tom did not leave right away. Instead, he took another step forward, stared directly at my mom, and started unbuckling his belt. Chew need this, he said, smiling. Chu need this. I still do not know what he meant by that, and honestly I do not want to know. At that point, the guard grabbed him, pulled him back, and dragged him out of the store. After that, I do not remember much. My mom held us tightly, shaking even though she was trying not to let us notice, and we left the store as quickly as possible. We never saw Tom again,

but I have never forgotten him. Even now I still hate him. going to that Target. Story 3. When I lived in the city, going to Target was practically part of my daily routine. Whether I needed something or not, I could always find an excuse to stop by and browse. On that particular day, I was looking for a pair of pants for a party I had later that week, so I decided to go into Target to see if I could find something I liked. I walked in like usual, not really thinking much about anything.

But right as I came through the door, I noticed that a guy walked in behind me. At first, I did not think much of it. People go to Target all the time, right? But as I wandered through the aisles looking at things, I realized that every time I turned around, he was there. It was not once or twice, but over and over again. I would switch to another aisle, and there he was. I would move to another section.

Boom, there he was again. At first I brushed it off, thinking maybe we were just following the same shopping route and looking for similar things. But then I headed over to the makeup section to grab a new foundation. Mine had run out. And when I turned around, I saw him again. He was standing right in front of the NYX display. Only this time he was not even pretending to shop. He was not holding anything, not looking at any specific product.

He was just standing there. The way he avoided eye contact every time I looked at him sent a chill down my spine. That was when my instinct started screaming at me. Something is not right. I did not want to make a scene, but I no longer felt comfortable, so I decided it was time to leave. I went straight to the checkout lanes, trying to shake off that weird feeling crawling up my spine.

But then I noticed him again, following the way. me toward the registers, and just like before, his hands were still empty. He was not holding a single item. He was not in line to pay. He was just standing there looking around, acting like he was not watching me, when I could feel his eyes fixed on me the entire time. I took my bag and was about to walk out the door, but my instincts told me not to. The last thing I wanted was for him to follow me to my car. Instead of leaving, I changed a direction and headed toward the back of the store, straight to the bathrooms. At first, he did not follow me, which gave me a little relief, but when I came out of the restroom a few minutes later, I froze. There he was again,

standing in the men's section, pretending to look at underwear and socks, again without holding anything, just standing there watching me. At that point, I knew for sure it was not a coincidence. He was not just some random shopper minding his own business. He was following me. He was waiting. I did not want to panic, but I also was not going to take any chances. Instead of trying to lose him again, I walked straight up to an employee and quietly asked to speak to the manager. When the manager arrived, I pulled him aside and whispered that a man had been following me all over the store since I came in,

and that I was scared to walk to my car alone. The manager's expression changed instantly. He got serious very quickly and told me they had already had problems before with people trying to kidnap women for trafficking. Apparently there had been an incident just a couple of months earlier at that same store. He assured me that I had done the right thing by trusting my instincts and staying inside.

The manager called the police, but the man must have realized that something was wrong because he ran off before they arrived. I never saw him again. To this day, I do not like to think about what could have happened if I had walked out to the parking lot like nothing was wrong, if I had ignored that gut feeling. I do not know what his real intentions were,

and honestly, I do not want to know. But I do know one thing. If you ever feel deep down that something is not right, listen to that feeling. That day could have ended, much worse for me. Story 4. A few months ago, I took my pregnant wife and our two-year-old son to Target for a quick evening trip. It was around 8 p.m. and the store was pretty empty, with only a handful of shoppers wandering around. My wife went off to look at a few things

while I kept an eye on our son, who was having a great time playing around the clothing displays. It was a completely normal target visit until I noticed something that gave me a bad feeling. Two men kept showing up in the same aisles we were in. At first, I chalked it up to coincidence, but after a few minutes I realized they were not even shopping. No cart, no basket, not even pretending to look at anything. One was wearing a hoodie, the other had on a cap, and they were definitely watching us. My instincts started going off, but I stayed calm and made a point to keep paying attention. As if the situation was not already strange enough, my son decided to throw an all-out tantrum because I would not buy him another buzz light year. A typical toddler

meltdown. Since it was getting late, I told my wife to go check out while I took our son to the car. As I headed toward the exit, I looked back and noticed that the guy in the hoodie was following us. At first I thought maybe he was leaving too, but as soon as we stepped into the parking lot, I kept glancing over my shoulder and sure enough he was still behind us. I picked up my pace to stay ahead while carrying my son, but I could feel him closing the distance. Instead of going straight to my car, I decided to head back toward the front of the store, and that was when he appeared right in front of me. We ended up about ten feet apart, just staring at him.

each other. We were alone in the parking lot, in this strange silence, and I was holding my son with no real way to run from the situation. Keeping my voice as controlled but firm as possible, I said directly to him, why the hell are you following me? And he replied, I just wanted to make sure that child is yours. I froze for a second. Had he really just said that? He kept repeating, is he your son as if he were trying to convince himself of something and the way he was looking at my child set off every alarm in my body every instinct was screaming at me that this guy wanted to take him i did not hesitate i slid my hand under my shirt and gripped the handle of my concealed handgun making sure he understood i was not joking without actually drawing it he is my son i took

told him, and you are going to step away right now. But he would not back down. He kept insisting that maybe I was kidnapping my own child as if he wanted to cause a scene or wait for the right moment. At that point, I was not going to back off. I looked him straight in the eye and said, Back away or I'm calling the police. That must have been enough because after a few ten seconds, he suddenly took off running, crossed the parking lot, and jumped into a car that sped away as if he had never been there. When my wife came out, I was still standing there with my heart racing, trying to process what had just happened.

I told her everything, and we agreed that we would never shop late and separately at Target again. I do not know what that man's real intentions were, maybe some self-appointed vigilante trying to play hero. Maybe he was looking to provoke something, or maybe he was waiting for an opportunity to snatch my son. I would rather not dwell on it too much. But one thing I am absolutely sure of, I am very, very glad I was with my family that night.